The Pit

By: Heather F

Librarian Note:

We have tried to reach Heather F, but have not gotten any replies. This story has been rescued. Since Lady Angel's Library (now M7FC) was already hosting some of Heather's other stories, we assumed implied permission to host this one as well. If you know how to reach the author, please ask her to contact us.

"Come on Ezra hurry up," JD exclaimed impatiently from the saloon batwing doors. The gambler ignored the youngster sipping carefully on his coffee. "Buck’s coming with the horses," Dunne announced as he peered down the dusty main thoroughfare. Standish merely nodded his head in agreement. Jackson, Sanchez, Tanner and Larabee smiled as they continued to eat their breakfasts undisturbed.

The early summer sun had only come up a few minutes ago. Already the day was proving to be a scorcher. Vin eyed the gambler. Standish had not dressed in his normally formal colorful clothing, but adorned a regular white shirt, no vest and his brown rough turn out coat. His green eyes usually sharp and clear appeared dull and half hooded. The tracker smiled.  Standish only saw morning’s when he pulled himself from the gaming tables to retire to bed.

"You better get going Ezra; JD over there is going to go into fits," Sanchez intoned amused. Like the others he enjoyed the early morning quietness, Standish on the other hand had never met a morning he liked.

Standish rubbed his head, mussing his hair, appearances must not be important in the wee hours of the morning. Jackson observed the gambler with a critical eye. His countenance seemed paled under rosy cheeks.  Nathan marked it up to slight sunburn -- Standish’s fair complexion tended to burn not tan, the curse of an Irish heritage.

"Hey lets go!!" Buck’s voice boomed from outside the saloon. Larabee chuckled when Standish closed his eyes and sighed pushing himself from the table.

The other four men watched and listened as the three others left the area. Inez brought more coffee over to the table.

Vin spoke up, "geez Ezra looked rough this morning." The tracker wondered how someone could stay up all night and then do it all over again the next night.

"Must have indulged in the wrong spirits last night," Josiah added. Standish did not normally drink heavily, not like the others. His profession demanded that he keep a sharp mind and on more than one occasion quicker reflexes.

"Senior Standish retired early last evening," Inez intoned as she poured coffee into the empty and half empty mugs.

"Early this morning you mean." Nathan corrected.

The spirited saloon keeper smiled tolerantly, she knew her own mind and what she meant, "No.  Just after dinner with you last night, he went to bed." She finished topping off the mugs ignoring the inquisitive silence that was directed at her. Without meeting anyone’s eyes and picking up Ezra’s untouched breakfast plate she added, "He turned down a game and went to bed." With that Inez cleared some breakfast things and smoothly left for the kitchen. The others glanced at each other and shrugged.

"Nathan nail him down when he gets back find out if he’s feeling okay," Larabee directed the healer, and then on second thought added, "You better have Josiah help ya."   Chris kept his thoughts inward. With the impending arrival of the Terrell gang, he needed all his men on their toes. Chris had no doubt that Buck, JD’s and Ezra’s excursion to the abandon mine would return them in time to prepare for the potential confrontation of the hard riding gang of bank thieves.

Buck and JD rode side by side with Standish’s chestnut gelding dogging lazily behind. Standish laughed quietly to himself as he listened to bits and pieces of the constant bickering between the two in front of him. The gambler had removed his heavy course work coat earlier in the ride but now he wiggled back into it. It seemed odd to feel cool when the sun beat down on them. He wondered tiredly if he were coming down with a cold. Not likely.  He was not one to get sick -- nothing a good night’s rest could not cure.

"We’ll ask Ezra he’d know." Standish heard JD challenge.

"Well Ezra?" Buck asked both men turning in their saddles facing the gambler expectantly.

Standish pulled from his own private musing smiled confidently, "Excuse me gentlemen, what is it you think I know?"

"Geez Ezra weren’t you paying attention?" JD asked with exasperation. Sometimes the young sheriff wondered how Standish could be so observant but not follow a simple conversation.

"I apologize Mr. Dunne but my thoughts must have strayed from your engrossing dialogue with Mr. Wilmington there." Standish laid his wrists lazily over the saddle horn matching the gazes of the two men in front of him.

JD threw Buck a questioning glance.

Buck sighed, "He says we’re boring."

"Oh no quite the contrary Mr. Wilmington I am constantly amazed how you two gentlemen can carry on for so long and not truly say anything important." Standish’s dimpled smile spread mischievously across his clean shaven features softening his words. Buck chuckled. He had been worried, Standish had been quiet all morning.  Buck started to think he was coming down with something. Apparently not.

"Who wrote ‘The Three Musketeers’?"

This took the conman by surprise and he did a double take on the two men. "You’re kidding. You two have read ‘The Three Musketeers’?"

Without skipping a beat both JD and Buck stared at the gambler like he had lost his mind and both shook their heads.  "No," articulating their answer at the same time.

"Then why do care who penned the story?"

"Told you he wouldn’t know," Buck stated. Turning an ‘I told you so expression’ to the boy. JD let out a sigh of disappointment, he really thought Ezra would know. The gambler knew a lot about books.

"Of course I do, Alexander Dumas. He also wrote ‘The Man in the Iron Mask’," Standish added with practiced patience. Those two never ceased to amaze him, it was good practice for his neutral expression. JD threw Buck a triumphant smile.

They rode a few more hours. Standish had peeled off his coat again only to put it back on later. They finally reached the mouth of the old mine. JD leapt off his horse with barely contained excitement. Buck tethered his horse to a near by tree and joined his young friend at the entrance lighting torches. Standish tied Chaucer and patted it’s neck tenderly leaning slightly into the horse, the gambler’s legs and back ached tiredly.

"Gawd ole friend I feel lousy." Chaucer munched quietly on grass -- Standish knew his horse would never give up his secret.

"Come on Ezra!!" JD yelled. Standish gave Chaucer one more affectionate pat and made his way over to his friends.

They entered the darkened mine; the bright sunlight quickly swallowed by the ever foreboding mine shafts. At first the dirt floor ran level and then it began to slope upward. The large support beams seemed to have weathered the effects of time fairly well. Wilmington held a torch up to the braces checking them out before they went too far and committed themselves needlessly to any undue danger. If JD had not been there, Buck mused, he probably would have charged into the mine heedless of his own safety. But JD’s presence stirred something in the carefree man and suddenly Buck found himself taking things cautiously, watching for any hidden dangers that might threaten the youngest member of the seven. Buck stared over at the gambler. He had that coat back on.  Buck knew the south was hot, but surely the summer heat of today was enough to warm the conman’s bones. Wilmington chuckled the prospective lure of money was about the only thing that could drag the gambler out of his bed so early in the morning. Buck suspected the true reason for Standish joining them was companionship other than at the gaming table. Funny, Buck never expected Ezra cared one way or another about being alone. But he had begun to sense a change over the man of chance and discovered Standish hesitantly putting one foot forward in the direction of friendship. Ezra was not one to trust or depend on anyone, so when he offered to tag along, Buck was surprised. He suspected the conman up to something, but when he saw the benign expression, Wilmington figured Standish only wanted to partake in the adventure. So the three of them ventured deeper into the mine, the torches casting long shadows on the man carved walls.

The mine did not go very deep or very high. Many tunnels had been started only to be abandoned. The mine had not been fruitful and so it to had been abandoned. The threesome explored it for a few hours. JD pelted them endlessly with questions. It took two of them to keep up with JD’s energy. Being born and city raised, Dunne had little experience or knowledge in the working of mines. He had assumed the others being older and more experienced would know all there was to mining. Buck and Ezra filled in the gaps of information, on mining. Both men were pleasantly surprised that together they had a fairly good working knowledge on the ways of mining and mining tools. If JD had not been there to find excitement behind every turn or in every piece of run down or discarded tool then the trip would have been a colossal waste of time. Instead Dunne entertained the two men while he explored and investigated this new world. Wide eyed, moving and talking excitedly. Buck held back and spoke to Ezra.

"He’s having a ball," Wilmington softly intoned.

"It’s good to see him behaving like a kid should," Standish intoned a little wistfully.

Buck threw a sidelong glance at the gambler. Wilmington clasped Ezra’s shoulder and added, "Indeed it is; indeed it is." Buck trotted ahead to catch up to the disappearing sheriff leaving Standish alone with his thoughts. Ezra grinned contentedly to himself.  This actually was a lot of fun, even if no profit were to be had. He heard JD and Buck make their way back to him.

"No money or glory to be had here boys." Buck whispered his voice vibrating off the walls.

"We best be getting back." The two men strode past the gambler who leaned tiredly against one of the walls. They headed toward the entrances and back to their horses.

When they exited the mine the sun had already started down from it’s zenith, late afternoon had descended.

"Shoot Chris is expecting us by night fall." JD uttered. It had taken them nearly three and a half hours to get to the mine.

"We’ll be back in time," Buck reassured. Dunne hoped Buck was right, he did not want Chris to worry about them worse yet get mad at them.

JD led his horse across the small clearing, Ezra right behind him followed by Buck. Ezra was not paying attention too much around himself, his muscles ached and a chill had settled in his bones. He had removed his coat again, and now thought about putting it back on. He stopped.  Chaucer, gauging his master’s body language, had stopped as well without being asked and avoided bumping him. Standish was about to turn around when he heard JD scream.  Ezra watched as Dunne at first slowly and then rapidly began to disappear from view. Without thinking Standish dove for the outstretched hands, as JD vanished beneath the grassy clearing. Ezra’s hands clasped around JD’s hands. Suddenly Ezra found himself sliding forward being pulled by JD’s weight down a dark narrow hole.  JD’s screams were muffled as he disappeared from sight, dragging the gambler with him.

"Buck!!!" Ezra screamed as his head and shoulders slid over the edge and started down the narrow black shaft. Then like an answered prayer, something solid grabbed the gambler’s left ankle.

"Hold on." Ezra heard Buck gasp. 

Buck watched horrified as the ground disappeared from underneath JD. One second the kid was standing there and the next he was gone. Ezra dove and grabbed the out reaching hands, everything halted for only a split second and then Standish began sliding toward the hole’s edge with increasing acceleration. Wilmington took a few running steps leaping and managed to grab one of Ezra’s feet.

Buck dug in, switching his position, he scrambled around cautiously and dug his heels into the earth before him. Ezra’s upper body was no longer visible. Buck leaned back bracing his boot heels in the dirt and began to pull back. Standish felt himself get stretched out. In the inky blackness the gambler could not even see the top of JD’s head. Standish felt his upper body get pulled over the lip of the shaft.

‘This is it’ he had thought, until Buck grabbed his ankle. Then everything stopped.

"Buck?" It was a small frightened voice. JD’s voice.

"It’s ok JD, Mr. Wilmington has a firm grasp of me." Ezra tried to reassure the boy. Then the unthinkable happened. Ezra’s foot began to slip from the boot. Slowly at first, Ezra tried to arch his foot to hold it in the boot. He felt Buck desperately shift his grip, he must have realized what was happening also. It was all to no avail. JD sensed he still descended into the black unknowns depths of the hole, as did Ezra and both screamed, "Buck!!!" when Standish’s foot slid free of the boot. Both men fell.

Buck grasped fiercely to the boot, he felt Ezra’s foot start to slip and readjusted his hold. Wilmington still tightly held the now empty boot and closed his eyes as his two friends screamed out his name in abject terror.

The clearing now stood in relative quiet. The horses had shied away from the hole that Buck now lay beside very much alone, no evidence of the other two men. Buck climbed to the edge of the shaft and tried seeing down to the bottom, but the thick darkness stopped him only a few feet below the surface.

"JD!!!  Kid, can you hear me?!!"

Ezra and JD landed with a splash. Entangled as they were the gambler was surprised they weren’t killed. The shock of the icy water threw the con man immediately to his feet. He stumbled a few steps and fell backward onto his butt hitting his head against the mucky clay walls.

Standish sat for a brief moment soaking up the cold and pain and then a panicky "JD?" No response. "Oh shit." Ezra began searching under the water on his hands and knees, wiping his hands in large arching motions. He hit something hairy and solid. Ezra grabbed a fist full of JD’s dark hair and hauled the kid’s head above the surface. Standish heard Buck calling for JD but the gambler ignored him for now. Ezra quickly checked for a pulse and sighed audibly when he found it beating strong and steady. Ezra turned his attention upward and could make out the silhouette of Buck against the afternoon sky. "He’s alive Buck," Standish shouted.

Buck winced at the gambler’s use of his first name. Standish only addressed people informally in dire situations. Problem was Ezra’s idea of a dire situation normally meant Nathan Jackson would be kept very busy or a funeral would need arranging for someone.

"He okay, Ezra?" Buck waited impatiently. "Well?"

An irritated answer erupted back up at him, "how the hell should I know, He’s breathing and has a pulse."

Wilmington bit his lip. Ezra never lost his temper in front of anyone. "Okay, okay, just calm down." Buck tried to soothe. He did not know who he was trying to calm down himself or the gambler. "I’m going to drop a rope down to you. I’ll haul JD up." Again he had to wait for an answer. "Ezra?" He asked cautiously. Buck licked his dry lips; JD had to be all right.

Standish heard Wilmington, but he could not trust his voice. He leaned back against one of the walls sitting down and held JD close to his chest. He could feel the kid had a broken leg but could not discern anything else. Finally he answered gazing back up at the entrance. "Yeah, sounds like a splendid idea." Ezra watched as Buck’s silhouette shot from view to immediately reappear again. The conman heard the rope drop. It hung seven feet from the shaft floor. It might as well still be tied to the saddle. "Buck, it’s too short. Do you have two?"

He heard Wilmington swear. Standish knew what that meant before he heard Buck’s angry, "No." Ezra went back to JD and tried to revive the kid.

"Jeeezuz, Ezra, why the hell don’t you carry a rope on your saddle!! You too much of a gentleman to be of any help to anyone.!!" Buck yelled down in frustration. He regretted it the second the words slipped past his lips. This was not the gambler’s fault. Standish gritted his teeth against Wilmington’s remark. The man was worried about the kid. Standish none to gently slapped the boy’s face wondering if JD realized how lucky he was to have someone like Buck Wilmington watch over him. Still Buck’s words hurt. Ezra was a gambler, not a gun fighter and unfortunately not one of their family. A fact. Nothing to be fussed over or lamented over. A fact.Something he needed to accept. The quicker he accepted it, and stopped trying to be one of the ‘boys’ the easier it would be to deal with situations like this one. He was dealt a bad hand. Change the cards. It was simple, the solution lay in front of him. ‘Quit feeling sorry for yourself,’ he chided, ‘so Buck hurt your feelings big deal what do you care, help the kid. Get the kid out of this mess.’

"Ezra?" Buck again, gentler tone.

"Give me a second Mr. Wilmington." The cool reply. Buck shut his eyes.

"Come on JD." Ezra slapped the young man’s slack features. A groan and slight movement. "JD wake up!" Ezra slapped the boy again, harder. Standish cringed.

"JD!!" Buck yelled down.

"Buck!" JD cried back, trying to stand up. Standish held him still. "Easy, Mr. Dunne.  I’ll get you reunited with your keeper if you just keep still."

"JD quit moving around and listen to Ezra." Buck shouted down as he heard the sounds of an increasing struggle.

"What have you got planned Ezra?" Buck asked. Wilmington hated not being down there. He would give anything to trade places with the gambler. Not that he did not trust Ezra, Ezra was good man, just most times he watched out for himself . Buck grudgingly conceded that Standish would do anything for the kid, and had proved it again today.

Ezra ignored Buck for now and directed his attention back to the sheriff. "JD you have to sit on my shoulders and put that rope around yourself and then Buck will haul you up. Okay?" The gambler waited for the boy to answer.  "You ready?" Ezra could just make out the imperceptible nod. "Good, now this is going to hurt, but it will be over in a few minutes, okay?"

JD answered by carefully pulling himself up onto his one leg. Standish had no idea how they were going to pull this off until he spotted the ledge. It was more like a small shelf, a foot above the water. Ezra led JD over and sat him on the ledge.

From there JD easily slid onto the con man’s shoulders. Using the wall as a guide Ezra carefully straightened out. Gritting his teeth he waded through the mid thigh water to the dangling rope. JD fitted the loop around his shoulders.

"Mr. Wilmington, are you ready to effect our young Mr. Dunne from his captivity?" Ezra breathed out.

Standish sighed when he heard Buck answer, "Hold on a second."

"Please, Mr. Wilmington, not too long," Ezra whispered to himself, his legs shaking from the cold and weight.

Then a distant, "Okay."

Slowly the weight left the gamblers shoulders and JD was eased back to the surface. Ezra peered up and watched as Buck grabbed the youngster and pulled him to safety. Standish smiled.

Buck greedily grabbed a fistful of JD’s soaked shirt and hauled the kid out of the shaft. He dragged him clear of the opening avoiding any chance he should slip back down it. "You okay kid?" Buck took quick inventory of Dunne. Blood adorned the side of his head and face. His eyes were dilated and a bewildered expression covered his face. "You hurt anywhere?"

"My leg, I think I broke my leg." Dunne shivered uncontrollably. Buck easily recognized the signs of shock and stripped the young man of his wet shirt. He did not dare mess with the leg.

"You think you can ride?"

"Yeah , but what about Ezra?"

"Shit, Ezra." Buck reflexively peered back at the near invisible hole in the ground and then back at the boy, "You just sit tight." He took a few furtive steps away from the boy and said, "Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back." JD would have normally been very annoyed but he could not understand half of what Buck was saying. Wilmington leaned back over the opening, "Ezra I’ve got JD."

Standish chuckled dryly, "I’ve gathered that, Mr. Wilmington. And what about my emancipation?" Ezra shivered it was cold down here in the hole and his shoulder started to hurt persistently.

"I don’t have a second rope. I don’t know how else to get you out. JD’s hurt pretty badly." Wilmington quickly uttered. "I’ve got to get help from the others."

Ezra held his breath, his fear reaching new heights. He trembled, oh gawd please don’t do this to me, he pleaded silently. He heard, as if from a nightmare as Buck continued, "I’ve got to get the others. I’ve got to leave you. You gunna be okay?"

Standish slumped back against the wall, his legs quaking, oh no, oh no, don’t do this please don’t leave me down here, please get me out of here.

Buck waited for a reply, "Ezra?" Wilmington gazed over at JD the boy had slumped to his side. The urgency of the situation took on a whole new level. "Ezra! JD’s hurt. I promise I’ll be back for you! You hear me, come on Ezra say something."

"Of course Mr. Wilmington, I won’t be going anywhere. Take care of your young charge." Buck missed the empty resignation, and lack of hope.

"You just hold on Ezra, I’ll be back, right quick. I promise." Buck quickly left the edge of the hole satisfied all was well with the gambler and went to JD. The boy was hurt bad.

Standish watched Buck leave the edge of the hole. His heart sank with panicky despair.

"Sure," he muttered and made his way over to the small ledge and lifted himself up on it. At least he was out of the water. He heard Buck wrestle JD onto the saddle and then horse hooves striking the ground at a quick walk.

"Hold on Ezra I’ll be back for ya."

Standish smiled sadly and shivered. His mom used to say the same thing. Then the chills hit in earnest.

Buck rode his gelding as quickly as he dared. He leaned JD back against his chest holding him fast with his arm. Dunne had drifted in and out throughout the whole ride but never truly thrashed about. The broken leg hung painfully against the side of the horse.

Four hours later, Wilmington heard the gunshots before he could make out Four Corners. The Terrell gang. They were early. Buck skirted around the town and entered from behind the saloon.

The terrain was tough and offered very little cover to anyone trying to sneak in unobserved, therefore the like of the Terrells would avoid it. The sun had set and the sky had slowly begun to darken. JD felt himself get pulled off the saddle, and then nothing.

Buck kicked open the back door of the saloon he came face to face with Josiah Sanchez’s weapons. "Whoa hold on, Josiah, it’s just me," Buck soothed as he deposited his burden in the relative safety behind the bars.

"Good way to get yourself killed, Buck," Josiah hissed going back to his vantage point by the batwing doors.

"Where’s Ezra?" Sanchez asked between shots.

"We ran into some trouble."

"JD okay?"

"I don’t know, broke leg and hit his head." Wilmington answered joining his partner at the doors. "Where are the others?"

"Chris is over by the Merc with Nathan. Vin is in the bell tower." Josiah answered tightly squeezing the trigger again. The Terrell gang numbered in six total but two littered the street. The other four found themselves pinned down near the bank.

They were not ones to give up, but nor were the peacekeepers of the Four Corners. The gun battle waged on. As munitions ran low, shots were volleyed off carefully and well placed. Positions were shifted for better vantage points. It seemed they were at an impasse. The darkening early evening finally succumbed to night, brightened only by a full moon. The stillness of the evening was broken by Larabee’s cutting voice, "Give it up Terrell, you’re not getting out of this town alive."

"Oh I think we will" Came the reply. Then an opportunity presented itself to Vin and a rifle shot rang out and soon a third body riddled the street.

"I think not brother." Josiah muttered from the safety of the saloon.

"What’d ya say we call it a night, and you boys surrender," Buck called out from the saloon. He had checked on JD a few minutes ago, the boy shivered and mumbled incoherently. He really needed Nathan.

Chris heard Buck’s voice and wondered where JD and Ezra were. He had not heard the distinctive sounds of Dunne’s colts or Ezra’s Remingtons. What the heck was going on? Another shot rang out nicking the wood at the saloon entrance, causing both Josiah and Buck to involuntarily wince. Chris’s guns rang out and a fourth body fell to the street. Two left.

"All right. All right. We’re coming out. Just hold your fire!" There was a pregnant pause.

"Well then git on out here." Buck shouted impatiently. Larabee noticed the edge in voice something was wrong. JD had to be hurt. The two outlaws threw down their guns and hesitantly raised themselves up from behind their cover. Josiah, Chris and Nathan converged on the two surrendering men. Buck saw the healer. "Nathan!!" This got everyone’s attention but Chris’s who held his gun trained on the two men. The healer quickly made his way over to the ladies man. Buck disappeared inside knowing Jackson would follow him.

"Nathan over here. JD’s been hurt," Buck said from behind the bar.

"What happened?" Jackson asked as he expertly ran his hands over the boy, carefully palpating the broken leg and laceration on the head.

"He fell down a shaft of some kind."

"Let’s get him up to the clinic," Nathan said standing and already heading over to his small place. Buck gently gathered the boy up in his arms, he could feel the fever already, and hurried after Nathan.

Buck paced nervously outside on the second story porch as Josiah and Nathan worked on JD. Chris and Vin joined him once the prisoners were settled behind bars.

"Buck what’s going on?" Vin asked as he climbed the stairs two at a time. Wilmington paused, staring at his two friends.

"JD fell down an air shaft or something. Busted his leg and hit his head." Before he could continue Nathan and Josiah opened the door and stepped out. They were both sweating. It proved to be an even hotter evening. "How is he?" Buck asked nervously if anything happened to the kid, he’d never forgive himself. The others knew this as well so Nathan put on his best reassuring smile.

"He’s gonna be fine, We splinted the leg, the bump to the head doesn’t appear to bad, just needs to be kept warm. He’ll be up and bothersome by tomorrow."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. JD was like a little brother. Finally Josiah asked as he surveyed the group, "Where’s Ezra?"

The color drained from Wilmington’s face and he breathed out an "Oh God....Ezra." and stepped back against the railing. No one said anything until Jackson asked worriedly, "What about Ezra?"

"Oh god Ezra. We’ve got to get Ezra, I forgot. I just forgot." Wilmington made to run down the steps when Chris grabbed his arm. "What did you forget?"

"Ezra he’s still down in the hole. The rope wouldn’t reach him. He had to lift JD up to it and then I hauled him out. But Ezra couldn’t reach it. I promised him I’d be back right away." Wilmington pulled his arm out of Chris’s grasp and sprinted down the steps, the others on his heels.

As Nathan ran passed the Clarion, he grabbed Mary, "could you keep an eye on JD. He’s upstairs. Please I’ve got to go." He offered no more explanation and Mrs. Travis merely nodded with confidence. Of course.

The five men galloped out of town their horses knowing the first part of the trail making traveling in the moon light at that speed dangerous but an acceptable risk.

Ezra shivered and huddled closer to the damp wall bringing his knees up to his chest. He dozed and jerked awaked and dozed again. In the beginning he had been hungry and cold but now he was just cold. Standish gazed around the small cavern he found himself in and sighed. He had tried to climb out earlier. Almost made it too. His hands had hungrily grabbed at the dried out meadow grass that circled the entrance of the hole but as he searched for a suitable hand hold to pull himself out, his footing crumbled and he crashed back to the cavern’s watery bottom. His shoulder had given out and no matter how hard he tried no matter how determined he was he could not raise his arm over his head. Standish rubbed absently at the back of his head. He found a sore spot and grimaced. How’d that happen? Standish sat on the ledge waiting.

Waiting for who?

He dozed off again only to waken shortly after. It had become pitch black in the hole.  Even when he gazed up at the entrance he found only more blackness, and some stars. How’d he end up here? Chills racked his body. He stared at his surroundings, and his muddled mind finally grasped what was happening.

He was back in his uncle’s pit.

Ezra hated the pit. His uncle would throw him in there whenever the boy misbehaved and beating him was not enough. Ezra’s definition of misbehaving did not match or fall into the same realm as his bible toting reverend of an uncle. So whenever young Ezra was caught practicing with his deck of cards or reading something other than the bible, into the pit he went. Standish hated his Uncle and dreaded the dark cold confines of the earthly prison. Sometimes they left him there alone for hours one time a whole day, because they forgot about him. Each time they hauled him out very weak , cold and hungry, and then the sermons started. They would drive the devil out of him or so, they would tell young Standish. Ezra would only close his eyes and wonder when his mother would keep her promise and come get him.

Ezra slid sideways on the ledge and drifted off. Chills rattled his body. He hated his uncle and cousins.

The five men let their horses pick their way down the narrow wooded path. The windy path opened into the small innocuous appearing clearing. The men were tense and the horses sensed it. The clear night sky held an infinite number of stars of early morning, the full moon now hung on the horizon. ‘Thank God for the full moon," thought Vin Tanner, as he dismounted his wild colored red paint. He heard the others dismount and watched as their silhouettes moved about tethering horses to trees. The silence was almost deafening. The sounds of the night became still replaced by the quiet breathing and stomping of horses.

"All right Buck, where’s the hole?" Chris Larabee asked his voice strained. Wilmington quickly made it to the center of the small grassy clearing. "Be careful the ground just went out from underneath ’em."

They could hear Nathan jogging up the path they themselves just traversed on horseback. The healer had been forced to leave the buckboard a few hundred yards back down the trail because the path had narrowed considerably.

Larabee peered down into the inky black hole. It seemed to narrow to swallow a man but this one had claimed two. Only one had been extracted. No sounds could be heard from below.

"Ezra!?" Chris called his voice shattering the quiet of predawn morning. No response. Chris gazed over at Buck Wilmington, and did not need to see the mustached features to know he was worried. Fear and worry emanated from all of them.

Buck answered the unasked question, "I think he was all right -- he didn’t say he was hurt."

Tanner peered down the hole, his vision unable to penetrate the wall of blackness. Buck had extracted JD from the shaft with the gambler’s help over twelve hours ago. That was an extremely long time ago. They all knew it. Chris stared back into the hole. There was no way they were going to be able to send someone down there. JD and Ezra were easily the smallest of the bunch.

"Ezra can you hear me?!" Larabee called again.

Standish climbed from the depths of a deep slumber. He lay curled on the small ledge. He thought he heard someone call his name. His eyes blinked opened and took a moment to adjust to the near suffocating blackness. His numbed mind agonizingly filtered in the information his dull senses picked up and realized he still lay captive in his uncle’s pit. Aww hell. He cursed himself not sure if he vocalized anything or not. He lay for a minute his muscles aching and cramping, hating his predicament. Then he heard it again, someone calling his name. With monumental effort he sat up. His feet, one with a boot and one without, slipped into the still waters. He leaned tiredly back against the moist wall. ‘They must have come back to torment me again.’, his cousins and their father. Standish would not give them the satisfaction of knowing how badly he felt. He would not let on how much he wanted out of this cold dark hell, or how he craved to lay in the sun in dry warm clothes and sleep. He heard his name called again, in a none to gentle tone.  Yup, his Uncle was up there. So he summoned his strength and sat up straighter and hollered back:

"’Ey, Uncle, that you?" With the thought of an ensuing battle of wits a crooked smile crossed his ghastly pale features.

The five men stared expectantly at each other.

"He just call me ‘Uncle’?" Larabee asked no one in particular. In the moonlight he could not read their expressions but their unease was almost palatable.

"Yeah." Vin answered.

"He’s been down there along time, the cold could be affecting him or he’s hurt real bad or both." Jackson tried to explain.

Josiah nodded.  The preacher turned to the leader of the group and said, "Keep him talking maybe he’ll come around."

Larabee nodded and yelled down to the gambler, "Ezra, you okay?"

The response was sarcastic and the southern accent very thick. "Jes’ fine you som’bitch. But you’re a bit premature. I ain’t dead yet!" They heard him chuckle and then a splash. The five listened intently as the gambler moved about the water below.

Standish left his ledge and slid into the water. He gazed up to the entrance of the hole and stared at the silhouettes of the men looking down at him. Standish nudged a rock with his booted toe. A smile creased his features.

"Ezra, listen, we’re gunna get you out of there," Larabee shouted back, ignoring the southerner’s ramblings, wishing to God he could see the gambler.

"I won’t hold my breath, Uncle!" Chris heard the remark and suddenly something sharp slapped him off the head. He let out a yelp and rolled back holding his bleeding forehead.

"Aww gawd." he exclaimed. The others heard Standish laugh as the rock plunked back into the water.

"Geez Chris you all right?" Vin asked going to his friend who held his now bleeding head.

"That son of a bitch," Chris hissed, "I’m gonna kill him."  Vin suppressed his laughter.

"Easy brother, I think that’s exactly what he is afraid of." Sanchez reasoned.

The voice from below pulled them back to the edge. "Ehh Reverend, that hurt?" Standish taunted from somewhere down below. He paused and chuckled furiously, "I must still have the devil in me. I don’t think he plans on leaving any time soon." He laughed again and another rock hissed from the murky depth, connecting with the bridge of Wilmington’s nose. He let out a cry and pulled back from the edge cursing. Standish heard this and laughed again, "Yup still got the devil."

"Goddamn, that hurts." Buck spat holding his nose feeling the swelling already set in. Vin fought back a chuckle. "It ain’t funny Vin." Buck shot back. The pain in his face making frayed patience even shorter. "I know I know, but he’s got one hell of an arm."

Larabee crawled back to the edge of the hole, feeling blood trickle down the side of his face. Careful not to peer over the edge he opened his mouth to say something when another rock shot out of the hole, falling harmlessly a few feet away. Larabee was becoming frustrated and angrily shouted, "Ezra knock it off!" He let the threat go unfinished. This normally would have been enough to cease most men. The anger and deadly intentions clearly audible in his sharp demanding tone.

"Why don’t you come down here and make me you rat bastard!" Standish replied, mocking his uncle, knowing full well the larger man would not pursue his young nephew into the pit. When he did get out of the pit, Ezra knew it would be a different story. He would pay for his indiscretion dearly. To hell with it, Ezra thought, he might as well earn it and fired more rocks up at the opening.

Josiah sat beside Vin and like the others, well away from the opening of the shaft. "He’s a mite upset." Sanchez pointed out. He could not keep the smile from his voice despite the dire situation they found themselves.

The stubborn conman was indeed a fighter.

"You think?" Buck intoned in response to the preachers comment, rubbing the bridge of his injured nose. Jackson, who had been silent through most of the ordeal finally spoke up. "We’ve got to git him out of there....soon." The sky had begun to lighten, stars slowly fading out as dawn threatened the blackness of night.

"How do you propose we do that?" Chris asked fingering the cut that graced his forehead.

"We could string two lariats together and drop ‘em down." Jackson answered. "We could haul him out."

"I don’t think he’ll be to cooperative." Tanner answered.

The healer nodded and then added, "Then we have to send someone down and make sure he cooperates."

Vin wrinkled his face unhappy with the solution but nodded. The five men peered at the narrow opening. It became obviously clear who would have to descend to the bottom of the shaft.

Tanner swallowed nervously. He hated dark enclosed spaces with an irrational almost panicky fright. Sweat beaded his forehead. He licked his dry lips and thanked the predawn darkness for hiding his almost tangible terror. Ezra was a friend and Tanner had very few of those in this world, therefore he had to help the ones he did manage to find. The tracker silently made it to his feet and with Jackson following went to gather the lariats. His stomach flip-flopped with nervous fluttering butterflies. Vin prayed he did not vomit. He had to help Standish, the crazy gambler would do the same for him. He heard Chris call back down to the gambler.

"Ezra we’re gonna send Vin down to ya okay?" Larabee waited and to his and everyone else’s surprise a barrage of obscenities and litany of threats erupted from the hole followed by rapid succession of rocks. Buck, Chris and Josiah took cover.

Standish heard his uncle. They had Vin! They were going to send Vin down into this frigid hell. Standish exploded, "You son of a bitch, leave Vin alone!" With all his might he threw rocks up at his captors, no longer aiming but hoping to hurt his tormentors like they planned on hurting Tanner. "Leave’s alone.! He ‘ates dark places" Standish’s tirade continued as rocks haphazardly found there marks on hunched backs. "I’ll kill ya with my bare ‘ands Uncle. You better not send ‘im down here!" The conman knew the terror that gripped the young tracker whenever they found themselves enclosed or tied or in any tight confinement. To Tanner’s benefit he hid it well but Ezra could read people like Vin read tracks. Vin Tanner did not handle confinement. Ezra soon lost steam and slumped against the cold dank wall heaving for breath. "I’ll get even with you Uncle." he muttered.

Larabee, Buck and Josh slowly crawled back to the edge of the opening. They had heard quite clearly what Ezra had said. Tanner and Jackson just stood off to one side with the ropes.

Josiah spoke up , "That true Vin?"

The tracker’s mind raced. He did not want to go down the hole but Ezra needed help. His hands trembled and sweat soaked his body. He shivered. His lack of denial spoke volumes.

"I can do it," he stated simply hoping he left no room for argument.

"It’s all right I’ll go down," Chris said. Larabee stood up gingerly, a few well placed rocks left their marks on his back. He took the ropes from the tracker, "It’s ok Vin, I understand." Chris spoke softly. He wondered how the seemingly self indulged gambler picked up on the Tracker’s fear while everyone else missed it. Then again the very nature of Ezra’s profession demanded such scrutiny in others.

"Thanks Chris." Tanner replied ashamed of his unconquerable fright.

Ezra had grown extremely tired. With more effort than he thought possible he hiked himself back up on his ledge out of the water. He lay down curling himself into a tight ball. His whole body ached. He blinked slowly his eyelids very heavy. He would go back to taunting his uncle in a few minutes. He just needed to rest.

Vin, Buck, Nathan and Josiah slowly lowered Chris below the ground. As the gunslinger dropped in a jerky fashion the warm summer night suddenly gave way to cold raw environment. Chris felt himself shudder as the sweat that clung to his clothing began to chill him. In no time he stood in knee deep freezing water. Larabee swore, Standish had been down in this damp chill far too long. If it had not been so dark the gunslinger thought he would have been able to see his breath crystallize in the air. Larabee waited a moment to let his eyes adjust to the suffocating blackness.

Soon he could make out the outlines of the small cavern. The narrow shaft had widened out to seven feet diameter. Clay and rocks lined the craggy soft walls. Larabee quickly spotted the gambler balled on his side on an impossibly small ledge. At least, however, he was out of the frigid water. The gunslinger gazed back up at the others. He could not make out their features but against the paling sky he could discern who was who from the silhouettes. He waved to them but realized they could not see him. Larabee cautiously crossed the watery distance to the con man.

"Ezra?" He called quietly laying a hesitant hand on the still form. "Ezra?" He shook the hunched shoulder. Larabee noted just how cold and wet both Standish and his clothing were -- he should not have lasted this long. Ezra moaned and curled tighter into himself.

"Ain’t dead yet, uncle," he mumbled defiantly.

Chris smiled tightly. Standish would fight you to the grave. "It’s me, Chris. Come on Ezra, snap out of it." Larabee shook the gambler roughly trying to drag him back to the land of the living.

Finally a quiet, "Chris?" the soft southern drawl sounded unsure and disbelieving. Not the same belligerent voice that had been assaulting them earlier.

"Yeah, Ezra, it’s me. Let’s get you outta here." He sat the gambler up. Chris swore, he had handled warmer corpses in the winter time.

Standish leaned against the clay wall. A figure stood before him talking about leaving. Sounded like Larabee. Ezra laughed. It would be a cold day in hell before Larabee would find himself in a place like the pit. Chris stared confused at the outline of the gambler, why was he laughing. Ezra began to slide to the side but Chris held him up right.

"Go away." Ezra mumbled. He felt so tired, he just wanted to sleep.

"No, Ezra, we’re gonna get you out of here." Larabee eased the rope off from around himself.

Standish laughed once more, "Gawd I’m hallucinating again. Mr. Wilmington what happened? Why didn’t you come back?"

Chris tried to slip the rope around the gambler. This shocked Ezra and he lashed out with his barefoot catching the gunslinger in the hip forcing him back.

"Leave m’alone," he growled.

"Goddam it Ezra cut it out," Chris said with exasperation. The other four men listened above and shook their heads in amusement. Larabee and Standish would and could butt heads no matter the situation or location. They had clashed since the day they met.

"You’re pretty annoying for a hallucination, you know that?" Ezra drawled out. He just wanted to lay down and sleep. In a few minutes he would get up and try to climb out again. The apparition before him would not let him be.

"Ezra you’re not hallucinating, now come on." Larabee had begun to lose his patience. Why did the gambler have to resist at every turn. Standish sighed, he felt so confused, his mind was not near as sharp as it should have been.

"Uncle’s pit does strange things to people," Ezra intoned sheepishly. Larabee cursed silently. The gunslinger at first had no idea what Standish meant when he spoke of his Uncle and ridding him of the devil but now he was beginning to grasp a better understanding. Before Chris could say anything the gambler spoke again, and again the normally lilting carefree southern accent was replaced with a thick simple almost childish southern tone.

"Uncle threw Big Jim in here. He died." Standish drew his legs up hugging them to his chest, "His bones are under the water -- rats picked ‘em clean." Standish shuddered and moaned, "I hate rats." Larabee watched the conman not saying a word and trying to catch up to the conversation. "Ain’t gonna happen to me, though. I’ve climbed out before, can do it again." The voice had become defiant again.

Finally Larabee spoke, his tone gentle as if he were speaking to Billy Travis, "Ezra this isn’t your Uncle’s pit. Your Uncle isn’t here." He wondered if he penetrated the delirious mind.

"Yeah he is, he’s up there," a pause and then a gleeful chuckle, "I pegged him with a rock." Standish’s childlike chuckle ended and Larabee watched as his friend hid his head behind his knees, "He’s gonna beat me but good for that." The resignation hung heavy in the dank musty air. Chris fingered the large cut that adorned his head. When that rock smacked his head, for a brief second he wanted to wring the con man’s neck but the urge quickly passed, apparently Ezra’s Uncle did not ignore such impulses. Chris tried again. He had lost sensation in his feet and his legs were becoming painfully numb.

"Ezra, he isn’t up there." Chris paused and continued, "Buck and the others are up there, so come on, let’s go." Larabee watched with dismay as Standish shook his head no without looking up.

"Buck ain’t coming back, or he would have been here long before now." Standish mumbled. "They never come back." He stopped and gazed up at Larabee; a sad smile cracked his haggard features, "It’s okay though, I don’t mind.  Never really expected him to come back anyhow. I’ll git out of this," his smile turned cocky and he laid back down, "always do."

Larabee listened and watched as the gambler curled back up, "Ezra we’re right here." How many times, Larabee wondered, had the gambler heard promises of support and aid to be left alone to fend for himself. Watching his younger friend now, the gunslinger realized it happened on more than a few occasions in the gambler’s mysterious past, and now he relived it as an adult. A child’s fear manifested in adult form. The pain and mistrust just barely disguised under an air of self confidence, had resurfaced, exposed for all to see. Chris’s building frustration slowly fizzled. Standish was no stranger to betrayal, and questioned, rightly so, any undo act of kindness or friendship. To him it was all a sham, a con, it would not be taken on face value. He would resist until he could not fight anymore, that was something Larabee could understand.

"Ahhhuh, you’re a pain in the butt in real life, Mr. Larabee, but your apparition is even worse." Ezra mumbled tiredly, "if you’re gonna hang around, then make yourself useful and wake me up in 20 minutes, so I can climb out of here."

Larabee merely shook his head and waited as the conman slipped into a deep sleep or unconsciousness. Chris could not be sure which, not that it mattered. He manipulated the rope around the younger gambler, it proved more difficult than he suspected. Standish offered very little resistance mumbling incoherently, trying to curl even tighter in on himself. Chris secured the rope snugly around his friend and again wrestled him into a sitting position. Standish bonelessly slumped against the wall and slid sideways, forcing Larabee to hold him up right.

"Okay," Chris whispered keeping one hand on the gambler he hollered up to the others, "Okay, get ready." Vin, Nathan, Buck and Josiah took up the slack in the rope. Larabee squatted down and allowed Standish’s limp body to topple over his shoulders. Chris shifted the weight more comfortably on his shoulder and shuffled through the water until he stood directly under the hole’s entrance. "Pull ‘im up," he hissed.

The dead weight of the gambler put undo strain on his freezing trembling leg muscles. In no time the pressure lifted from his shoulder and Larabee watched as Standish slowly but steadily was hauled out. Chris watched as hands greedily grabbed clothing and limbs, Ezra quickly disappeared from the lip of the hole. The rope suddenly dropped back down to the water and Chris placed the rope around himself and like the con man quickly extricated from the watery cavern.

Buck and Vin helped Chris climb over the grassy rim of the hole onto solid ground. "How is he?" Larabee asked as he freed himself from the lariat. No one answered right away. Larabee could easily make out Nathan and Josiah as they worked over the body of their friend. Chris crab crawled over and knelt beside Standish’s soaked head. "He all right?"

"He’s freezing. We need to get him warmed up and back to town, don’t think he has any broken bones. A lump on the back of the head and minor bruises and scrapes all over him, his shoulder again," Nathan said tightly.

Chris looked up as Vin led some of the horses over, "I’ll ride him down to the buck board."

Without a word Buck and Josiah raised the half stripped gambler up onto the saddle, where Tanner wrapped his arms around the chilled abdomen securing his charge. Standish’s head lolled to his chest, muttering and occasionally lifting a hand as if in conversation.

"He never quits," Buck uttered to himself. The others heard, smiles creased their tired faces.

The ride back to Four Corners seemed to go faster than the ride out to the mine. Josiah held the reins of the buckboard -- with daylight they were able to travel with more confidence. Nathan and Buck sat in the back, with Ezra, who lay wrapped in cotton batting and wool blankets, only his head stuck out from under the mound of covers. The sun had just started its slow journey into the sky, casting the early morning sky into brilliant pinks and purples. The few scattered clouds that hung lazily in the sky added to the sharp contrast of colors only highlighting the morning beauty. A soft breeze had kicked up whispering across the land offering some possible respite for the impending blast of summer heat that was due to bake the land later that day.

The five men rode in silence the only sounds coming from the horses and creaking buck board. Occasionally Standish would call out or laugh at some unseen thing or person only to fall silent quickly again. Buck would glance up worriedly at the healer but Nathan would just shrug and lay a comforting hand on the blanketed shoulder. They entered town. Four Corners was showing signs of awakening. The hotel kitchen fire had been revived, breakfasts were being prepared. The Merc and saloon appeared quiet, but they all knew that Mrs. Potter was in the back of the Merc getting it ready for the day’s business, as little as it saw in one day. The telegraph office showed some life as the blinds were pulled up. The bank stood by itself still very much asleep. Chris and Vin pulled into the livery, ponying Chaucer, Buck, Nathan and Josiah’s mounts. Toby and Juan, two livery boys, ran out to meet the peacekeepers. Immediately the young teenage boys knew something had gone wrong. Chaucer and the other horses had been missing all night and now Mr. Tanner and Mr. Larabee ponied the animals into town. No, that was not good at all. The smiles quickly left the boy’s faces as they took the animals. The two men left the horses to the boys expertise. The kids would treat the animals better than they would treat themselves.

Buck tossed back the blankets on the second unoccupied bed in the clinic. Mary had opened the door when she heard the commotion below. She quickly stepped aside as Buck skipped up the steps. She watched as Josiah gathered Standish from the wagon, shifted his burden’s weight and then navigated the steps. Nathan pressed a supporting hand on the small of the preachers back, guiding him up the wooden staircase. Sanchez huffed past Mrs. Travis bending slightly under the gambler’s weight. He laid Ezra down careful as if he held a fragile bundle that might break with any sudden movement.

Buck threw a quick glance at the sleeping JD, even with all the commotion the kid did not stir. Mary saw the worried look of concern and answered, "I gave him some of Nathan’s tea." Wilmington smiled halfheartedly, Dunne would sleep for awhile.

"Mary would you mind giving us some privacy while we get Ezra, here, settled?" Nathan asked his tone pleasant but the seriousness of the situation clearly present. Mary gazed down at the card shark, his face pale almost grey, his lips had a purplish tinge as did his well kept pruned hands and feet.

"Is he going to be ok?" She asked. Her strong voice soft and full of concern. Ezra Standish was a good friend, he treated Billy kindly and always went out of his way to show her son a new card trick. The gambler had to be okay. 

Josiah put his arm brotherly around her shoulders and guided her toward the door. "He should be fine Mary, you can come back in once we get him comfortable." Mrs. Travis merely nodded and took a seat on the wooden bench adjacent to the door.

Twenty minutes later Josiah opened the door, Buck, Nathan and he stepped out, joining Vin, Chris and Mary on the modest second story landing outside the clinic.

"They okay?" Vin asked quietly.

"JD’s gunna be fine, we set his leg last night and the bump to the head isn’t that serious." Jackson paused rubbing his face tiredly. "I’m not to sure about Ezra. I think he might have been coming down with something before this all happened, from what Inez and Buck have said. We’re just gonna have to wait and see." Nathan leaned against the door frame, "he’s got a nasty raspberry down the side of his back and a cut on the back of his head but they’re relatively minor. He hurt that same shoulder again, we reduced the dislocation." Nathan leaned tiredly against the clinic wall. The night never truly cooled anything off and now the sun promised to over heat the day once again.

"Ezra coming down with something?" Vin asked incredulously. The gambler had managed to avoid catching any illness the other six might have contracted over the past year. They were few and far between but one particular time the six had been knocked cold by a flu bug. They had contracted the illness from the kids at the Seminole village. The only one not affected happened to be the gambler. Standish had smiled and chuckled at his six ailing comrades and commented he escaped unscathed because he lead the good life. Now, the other five understood the tracker’s disbelief. Jackson merely shrugged, in the last one and half years the knife wielding healer had known the gambler, not once did he come down with an illness or fever unless lead was involved.

"Why don’t you all get some rest and I’ll sit with JD and Ezra," Nathan said. Yesterday had been a long hot day and the evening even longer. The men were exhausted as was Nathan. The healer knew he would not sleep, however, two friends lay hurt within his clinic. He would sleep when he thought they would be okay. No one argued, not even Mary, who suppressed a yawn. It had been along time since she went to bed at seven in the morning. She wondered how the gambler did it night after night.

Nathan laid a cold compress on Standish’s forehead. The fever steadily climbed. Hard to imagine just a few hours ago he was cold as ice. The gambler’s hands and feet were still pruned from the time in the water. Jackson checked on JD’s leg. The swelling had gone down considerably, the heavy dark bruising grotesquely discolored the lower leg up to mid thigh. The boy would be in incredible pain when he woke up. Nathan would be ready. It was easier he found to manage pain and keep it under control before it set in, than it was after it hit full force. Mary did good by giving the boy the tea. He would get a few more hours of rest, before his life became miserable.

Nathan yawned standing and stretching arching his back with his arms raised over his head. He had not felt this tired and drained in along time. The summer heat just sapped energy from you and today proved to be another scorcher. When he dropped his lanky arms he was surprised to find Standish staring up at him. Nathan immediately recognized the dazed and wary expression. Fever did some unusual things to its victims.

The healer put on a friendly smile and approached the con man. Nathan watched in dismay as his southern friend shrank back, his green eyes narrowing.

"Hey Ezra, how you feeling?" Nathan’s voice soft, patient and sincere. Jackson sat on the edge of the bed he knew if Standish had the strength the gambler would have bolted. His fear very tangible. "It’s okay, Ezra, you just got a bad fever." Jackson reached for the compress on Standish’s forehead but stopped as the conman in near panic shoved his head deeper into the feather pillow trying to create as much distance as he could, never letting his piercing green eyes waver from Jackson. "You’re okay, you just got to get some rest." Nathan soothed standing up and backing from the bed.

Standish on a good day was standoffish, friendly, an easy laugh always on his lips. He kept his own company, unless in a card game or sharing a meal with one of the six. It was not that the gambler did not like the others, Nathan knew the gambler fit in with this strange grouping of men, that were almost surrogate family. It was just Standish did not know how to relate to the others without his cards as mediators. Trust was slow to develop from both sides and his loyalty grew with agonizing trepidation, but once rooted, both trust and loyalty were gripped tenaciously with two hands, like a dog with a bone. Standish would and did defend the other six as they had him.

Of the seven, Ezra Standish was the last to be fully accepted for who he was and he alone held out the longest in accepting the others. Nathan Jackson and Ezra Standish stood on opposite poles of moral and ethical view points, they held a common ground which they found situated in the other five men. The gambler and healer did not readily welcome each other’s company at first but they found a delicate bond and from that sprang a tentative friendship that slowly blossomed.

So seeing the wild fear in the normally unflappable gambler, Nathan Jackson backed off. He was not hurt from Ezra’s feverish reaction. The southerner was a product of his upbringing. Nathan Jackson marveled at how far the southern gentleman had come, from a bigot and a cheat to just an occasional cheat ( when the situation dictated). Jackson watched as the green eyes fought to stay open but eventually they fluttered closed. Nathan wrung out the cold compress and placed it back on the fevered forehead and then stepped outside. He was tired and hot, satisfied both patients were situated okay, he sat on the bench and dozed off.

Josiah leaned on the church step railing. The early afternoon sun beat mercilessly down, baking the ground. Waves of heat shimmered down the dusty main street. The preacher sighed tiredly, he would welcome a break from this heat wave. He raised a large callused hand to shade his eyes searching for any evidence of rain in the cloudless blue sky. None. As he lowered his blue eyes he noticed a form sitting on the peaked roof of the clinic across the street. He squinted his eyes peering intently at the figure and quietly swore. He hurriedly jogged across the street, creating shallow prints in the fine dust of the main thorough fare. Sanchez bounded up the clinic steps two at a time. He slowed his pace so not to disturb the sleeping healer and entered the humble clinic.

JD slept soundly, his chest rising slowly, blankets to his waist, his fractured leg propped on pillows wrapped in sturdy splints. The bed closest to the outside door lay empty. Josiah crossed the floor quietly and quickly and left the room from the opposite door. He crossed the hall and ascended the nailed wood rung ladder to the roof.

Mrs. Potter had also spotted the person on the roof and with some urgency entered the saloon, to find Mr. Larabee, Mr. Wilmington and Mr. Tanner. The three men turned their gaze to the newcomer. Mrs. Potter never frequented the saloon. Her worried countenance belayed any comments from the three peacekeepers.

"Mr. Larabee is there any reason why poor Mr. Standish is sitting on the roof of the clinic in this heat?" Mrs. Potter was well aware of the events of the last evening and subsequent early morning. Though she did not approve of Mr. Standish’s profession she could not deny that the man went out of his way to be kind to her children, putting smiles on their faces even after their father had been brutally shot down. She could over look his moral indiscretions for the benefit of her children.

At the news, the three men jumped to their feet and hastily made their way outside. Shading their eyes, despite the fact they wore their hats, they peered anxiously up at the roof. Sure enough Standish sat up there apparently only wearing his suspendered pants and no shirt. Then Josiah emerged from the crawl opening.  They watched as the giant bear of a man picked his way cautiously to the gambler. Without a word the three men trotted over to the clinic and up the stairs.

Josiah sat a few feet from Standish.  The gambler sat with his bare feet flush to the slanted roof, his knees bent with forearms crossed resting on bent knees, his chin on his forearms staring out across the meadow. Sanchez watched him for a moment; the gambler gave no indication that he knew someone joined him. 

Josiah swore, the roof had to be scalding hot on the bare feet but maybe the sun had not hit that side of the roof just yet.  Standish trembled a little as a chill ran through him.

Josiah finally spoke: "Ezra?" He waited a few seconds for a response. Standish merely turned his head not raising it, saw the preacher within a few feet and turned his attention back to the grassy meadow. Commotion to Sanchez’s left grabbed the preacher’s attention and he saw Larabee poke his head out. Another chill hit Standish. "We need a blanket." Josiah whispered. Larabee disappeared for a brief moment and then reappeared, hoisting himself up onto the roof carrying a blanket. Chris positioned himself behind the preacher and the gambler, squatting down. Gawd it was hot. Sanchez finally spoke again:

"What ya doin’ out here Ezra?"

A pregnant pause.

"Waitin," his accent very thick.  Larabee shut his eyes and smiled. Standish had never offered information unless pried from him. This had gradually begun to change until today. 

Sanchez merely nodded and started gently prying, "Waiting for who?" Again a pause.

Standish turned his head taking in the larger man, judging him with inquisitive piercing green eyes. "Capt’n Joe."

This got raised eyebrows from Larabee. The preacher undaunted continued, as if talking to a child.

"Where’s Captain Joe?"

The gambler gazed up at him confused and then pointed, "out there." Sanchez nodded in apparent understanding. Chris watched the exchange silently. Standish surprised both men as he continued, "He said he’d come back. Ms. Kate would be worried if he don’t."

Larabee threw Sanchez a questioning gaze.  The preacher merely shrugged.

"His ship normally comes from behind that jetty," Ezra intoned, pointing out to the tree dotted field at a harbor and jetty that only his fevered mind could see. Both gunslinger and preacher exchanged worried glances. Another chill hit Standish and he brought his knees closer to his chest. Larabee could not help but notice the scratched raw back and the old faint scars that crisscrossed the ribbed torso.

"You cold?" Josiah asked.

"No." A clipped denial, as again a shiver shot through the gambler.

"You want a blanket?"

Standish stared at the blanket, clearly wanting to accept it. "Can’t pay for it," he intoned.

"You don’t have too," Josiah answered, somewhat surprised by the response.

"I ain’t working for it either. So you just keep it." A sharp retort. Chris smiled sadly. Standish took nothing at face value, everything had a price no matter how benign the offer. Larabee watched the twosome, Josiah had infinite patience.

"How bout we trade for it," the preacher suggested.

This got the gambler’s attention as he curled tighter into himself his muscles taught with fever.

"I’ll give you blanket and you sweep the church aisle just one time."

Larabee watched as Standish squinted his eyes and then rested his head on his knees nodding in agreement. Sanchez reached behind as Larabee handed the blanket off and the preacher laid it over the bare hunched shoulders.

"Better?"

A simple nod in response. Standish leaned heavily on the black stove pipe that protruded from the roof. Larabee cringed. It had to be scalding hot, but apparently the blanket protected the gambler not only from the sun but the radiating heat of the pipe.

"He’s not coming back, is he?" A child’s question in a child’s tone. The defeat in the voice hung heavy in the air.

"Captain Joe? No Ezra, not today at least," Josiah answered watching his friend intently. The preacher had carefully moved closer to the conman.

"They never come back." Ezra intoned clearly and quietly wishing that it was not true. Again Josiah and Chris shared a questioning look.

"Ezra, let’s go back inside," Josiah prompted carefully.

"No." Simple flat statement that brooked no argument. "Uncle Clifford’s somewhere down there." A pause and a crooked smile crossed the rosy dimpled cheeks. "Thinks I got the devil in me, tries to rid me of him." A sigh, "I like the devil’s company more than Uncle Clifford’s." This brought a chuckle to the gunslinger and preacher

"I would too." Josiah agreed. Standish leaned heavily against the pipe closing his eyes.

"Josiah?" a quiet question.

"Yeah?"

"I don’t feel so good." Another sad sigh. The giant bear of a man reached over and gently pulled the smaller con man away from the pipe and leaned Ezra against his shoulder and chest, bringing a callused hand up and resting it on the younger man’s forehead. "I know son, I know." Sanchez softly muttered trying to soothe the delirious friend in his grasp.

Then a soft, "Josiah?"

And again, "Yeah?"

Another deep sigh from the gambler, as Sanchez held the light brown head close to his shoulder, in a quiet tired voice, "I ain’t your son." The southern accent still extremely thick but no rebellion laced his words. Just a simple fact. Chris chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. A genuine laugh rumbled through Josiah as he held the gambler comfortingly, resting his chin on the bowed head. He and Larabee exchanged bemused looks as Standish quickly drifted off to a fevered slumber.

After a few quiet moments Larabee finally asked, "He out?"

Josiah peered down at the slack face and nodded. The preacher felt Standish’s forehead, "Gawd Chris he’s burning up."

The gunslinger only nodded and said, "Let’s get him back inside."

Buck Wilmington carried the con man back into the clinic once again gently depositing him back into bed. Nathan pulled the blankets up over his patient. Ezra moaned and curled into a loose ball, muttering about rats. Vin placed a cold wet rag on the gambler’s neck.

"Nathan how long he going to be like this?" Tanner asked fixing the blanket up around the bare shoulders. Nathan watched the gambler with dismay, his fever raged unchecked, his time spent down in the hole had flung him back to another life.

"We just have to wait."

Wait they did. JD woke later that afternoon with a slow ache in his splinted leg that quickly escalated to unbearable pain. Dunne had come to on Chris’s watch. Larabee smiled sympathetically at the boy. JD’s pale features were taught with pain. For his part JD clenched his jaw against the agony unwilling to show his idol how much he hurt. Chris easily recognized what the youngest member of the seven was trying to do.

"Leg hurt pretty bad huh?" Larabee asked as he eased the curly brown head off the pillow. The pillow was soaked with sweat. JD merely nodded. Chris smiled tightly and gently eased some of the tea down the boy. When Dunne laid his head back down on the pillow he then noticed the gambler.

"What’s wrong with Ezra?"

Chris turned his attention from the sheriff to the gambler. For the moment Standish’s nightmares had relinquished him allowing him some respite. He had tossed and turned and fought demons only he could see, never crying out for help, relying sorely on himself to escape whatever demons threatened him. Chris smiled reassuringly back down at the sheriff.

"Just a little under the weather. Nothing to worry about."

JD pulled his gaze from the gambler to the gunslinger. He was going to ask him another question but a wave of pain shot up his leg causing him to gasp and grab for his thigh. Larabee intercepted the hand and returned the surprisingly strong grasp.

"Easy kid, ride it out," Larabee soothed. He watched as JD’s face relaxed a bit and loosened his hold on Chris.

"I’m okay," he breathed out tiredly. Chris watched thankfully as the strong tea took effect and Dunne slowly drifted back to sleep.

Josiah Sanchez, Buck Wilmington, Vin Tanner and Chris Larabee shared a quiet drink at a back table in the moderately busy saloon. Nathan had gone to get a light supper. The heat had squelched any appetite the others might have had. Buck could not help notice Ezra’s table sat empty. He smiled out of habit at Inez as she served another round of whiskey. She acknowledged the grin and smiled back, no biting retort followed.

The normal banter that accompanied the men did not exist tonight. Inez knew why and she felt her heart tighten. She wanted nothing more than to sit with Ezra Standish. They were friends, good friends. Where it went from there she could only hope. For now she was content with the strong bond of trust they seemed to have developed. She would be patient and see where it would grow.

"How is Senor Standish and JD?" she asked as she poured drinks.

Buck answered. His guilt eating away at him. The others had tried to assure him it was not his fault, there was no way he could have known of the hole, no way he could have pulled two adults up by gripping only one foot. What ate most at the fun loving gunman had been Ezra’s words as he spoke with Chris down in the hole. Ezra had not expected Buck to come back. Standish believed that he would be left behind, forgotten. Did he really believe it? Apparently, Buck surmised, he did -- Standish actually thought his life would be forfeit once JD had been freed. This bothered Buck until he fell into a morose silence.

"JD’s okay, in some pain, but he’s tough." Buck stated. The kid made him proud. No matter how bad he hurt Dunne did not complain, he smiled, weakly, but the smile always there. The kid did his best to reassure the others, surprisingly not the other way around. The kid had woken a couple of times that day, each time asking repeatedly about Ezra. With the concussion his short term memory could not grasp what the others told him.

Inez noted the omission, "Senor Standish?"

Buck met the senorita’s large brown eyes. He knew that she and Ezra were friends and the fact that the gambler had not asked Buck to back off from hounding Inez only hammered home to Buck that Ezra’s relationship with the Hispanic beauty so far was purely platonic.

"He’s still running a pretty high fever."

Inez bit her lip and nodded heading back to the bar. She would visit her managing partner in the morning.

Tanner jumped awake. He slept in the rocking chair that sat in the corner of the darkened room. Vin stood up before his body truly woke up. A soft breeze whispered through the open window offering very little respite from the summer heat. What had stirred him?

He gazed out the window at the starry night. The town slept, even the din from the saloon had slacked off quite a bit. Being mid-week the saloon tended to quiet down early. Judging from the stars Vin suspected it was just past midnight. Then a strange noise cracked the still evening air. The tracker turned his head toward the two occupants in their respective beds. Vin could easily make out JD’s distant form, the kid was forced to sleep on his back with his leg propped up. Tanner felt a twinge of sympathy for the boy. It had not been very long ago that it was he who was healing from a fractured foot. Tanner glided across the floor barely making a sound and watched the young man sleep. Dunne appeared okay. Another moan and curse followed by a brief struggle caught the tracker’s attention. Standish. Vin sat on the edge of the bed and watched in dismay as the gambler once again fought unseen adversaries.  Tanner placed a calming hand on the gambler forehead. The fever had gone up, the tracker was not surprised, that was expected at night, no one knew why, it just did. Ezra shrunk back from the touch muttering, thrashing about wrestling with the blankets that entangled him.

"Easy there pard, you’re gonna be okay," Tanner soothed much like he did when dealing with a fractious horse. He watched the tormented expression that etched itself in the gamblers clean cut features. "Hang on Ezra," Vin whispered. He used a cool compress to wipe Standish’s forehead and face.

Ezra for his part muttered about inconsequential things that did not make much sense to the tracker, but gambling and cards played a big role. Tanner chuckled quietly to himself, Ezra always had cards on his mind, even when he dreamed. Vin eventually shifted to a more comfortable position on the bed, leaning against the head board draping a cold compress on Ezra’s forehead. The tracker eventually dozed off.

"Hey cowboy." A hand slapped Vin’s booted feet off the bed. Tanner jumped awake, blinking.

"Huh?" he asked as he stood, trying to make out the grinning features in front of him. Vin smiled sheepishly, Chris Larabee, who else could sneak up on him but his brother (or the closest thing Vin had to a brother).

Larabee laid a concerned hand on the gambler’s forehead. Larabee noticed the shallow raspy breathing had not improved, if anything it seemed worse. The fever remained unchanged.

"How’d it go last night?" Chris knew the answer the minute he had opened the door and noticed the tracker sleeping on the bed.

Larabee had sighed, of the seven it seemed strange that the two most opposite people actually had more in common. Vin Tanner and Ezra Standish were loners. Both very slow to trust anyone, wary of everyone and everything, both held the same uncanny ability to read people, and both craved for family and home. The similarities were not as glaring as the differences between both men but under the surface they held many similar qualities.

"He didn’t get much rest," Vin simply answered. Chris nodded and turned his attention to JD, the boy had managed to shift onto his right side and slept with an arm curled under his pillow. At least he seemed okay.

The heat quickly soared to new highs as the morning wore on. JD had woken sweating and irritable. His leg hurt, his head hurt and he was not hungry. JD had tried to convey this to Nathan but the healer would not listen and shoveled soup down the boy’s gullet. JD balked until Buck explained the alternative would not be so pleasant. Dunne harrumphed but complied begrudgingly to Wilmington’s and Jackson’s demands.

The ladies’ man sat on the edge of Ezra’s bed. The conman slept curled tightly on his left side, burying his head in the pillow. The fever had yet to break. Even under the blankets Buck could see the muscle tremors. With a damp rag he began to wipe Standish’s face and head, anything that might help bring down his temperature.

At the touch, Ezra’s green eyes flew open roving wildly back in forth.

"Hey pard’ how you feelin.?" Buck asked somewhat surprised by the sudden movement. Nathan and JD quit arguing with each other and watched with curiosity.

"Be careful, Buck, I don’t think he’s seeing you." Jackson spoke softly watching Standish closely. The conman had a strange, almost dangerous look about him. If Buck heard Nathan’s warning he ignored it. Instead Wilmington reached down to the gambler. Ezra struck. Leaping from the bed snarling in a feral manner he tackled the unawares Buck, knocking him to the ground. Standish maintained a choke hold with one hand as he threw controlled punches at his startled victim.

Josiah, Chris and Vin headed up the outer clinic steps when they heard the strangled yelp and then a crash. They threw open the door and rushed in.

"Shit." Chris uttered as he saw Ezra landing punches on Buck’s head and face. Josiah quickly crossed the floor and enveloped the smaller gambler from behind in a tight bear hug, effectively pinning his arms. Standish suddenly finding himself trapped fought wildly.

He threw his head back using it as a weapon, smashing it against the preacher’s chest. Sanchez held on and dragged his charge off Buck. Chris hauled Wilmington out of harms way. Nathan pushed JD back down on the bed hissing, "stay put."

Josiah sat heavily on the bed still tightly holding the squirming gambler.  "Easy Ezra, take it easy," he whispered over and over.  For his part Ezra had not uttered a word or a scream. He remained oddly silent, only his heavy labored breathing as he fought the arms that pinned him. Vin grabbed Standish’s wildly tossing head, as Josiah kept his own tilted back out of the way.

"Ezra?! Ezra?! Quit now.  Calm down," Tanner soothed calmly as he would a wild colt. Like the frightened crazed eyes he had seen in some of the most unruly animals he now saw in his friend’s. Something frightened Standish, and like a creature of instinct he lashed out trying to protect himself. Standish did not respond by slowing down, instead his blood shot green eyes met sincere worried blue eyes, and shot out with a kick sending Tanner reeling backward. The fight was on in earnest. Josiah was losing his grip, and Standish showed no sign of letting up. Larabee broke Tanner’s fall, and both men rushed into the fray.

In a few seconds they had Standish pinned under them on the bed. All four men heaved for breath. Standish lay on his back pinned by Josiah’s shin under his chin. Chris and Vin held his legs and arms. The sound of haggard breathing filled the room. Sanchez watched as the green eyes began to flutter closed, and the tension leave his face. The others felt his muscles relax.  Slowly cautiously they loosened their holds and slowly stood up.

Suddenly Standish bolted from the bed tackling Wilmington to the ground again, before anyone could react.

"You son of a bitch. You said you’d come back. I trusted you!" Buck’s eyes widened at the words. Standish cut him to the quick. "I trusted you cousin," he hissed. His thick southern accent very deadly as his hands gripped Buck’s shirt. "You didn’t come back; you stole my stuff," he paused catching his breath. The others made a move to pull him off of Buck but Josiah hesitated, curious as to what would happen next. Ezra was not throwing punches now.

"Where is it, Cousin?" He practically spit out the question. 

Buck for his part was as confused as the others. "Ezra I ain’t your cousin, It’s me Buck. I did come back. Chris and the others were there too," Buck tried to explain.

Standish chuckled mirthlessly, "Larabee and the others wouldn’t go to my uncle’s pit, not for the likes of me." Standish pointed the statement out without ire, just a fact. "Where’s my da’s harmonica?" he raised his hand to strike who he thought to be a cousin.

Buck stared up at him with a mixture of pleading and sadness. "Ezra you don’t own a harmonica," Buck tried to explain. He closed his eyes as the fist started to fall upon him. It never landed. Vin Chris and Josiah descended on the gambler like a storm. He had no more fight left in him and collapsed to the side, sliding into Josiah.

Inez opened the door just as Josiah caught Ezra. Her brown eyes widened in shock. "What are you doing to him?" she asked, her voice threatening. The door slammed shut behind her for effect. All motion in the small clinic ceased, heads snapped around. At seeing the seething Mexican senorita eyes dropped to the floor. With hands on her hips, she stared challengingly at each man, softening her gaze at JD. Josiah cradled Standish’s head and shoulders preventing them from hitting the dusty wood planked floor.

"Senor Wilmington what have you done?" She crossed the floor with an authority no one would challenge and knelt beside the unconscious gambler and supportive preacher. Josiah easily read the worry and concern that flashed across the clear olive features as she laid a hand on Ezra’s face and chest. Her gaze met Josiah’s briefly and she winked before hardening her expression and facing Buck who sat leaning against the wall. Ignoring his blackening eye and bleeding nose, she continued her interrogation. "Do you always wrestle with your friends when they are so ill?" She paused getting out of the way as Vin helped Josiah lift Standish back into bed. The tracker was silently thankful it was Buck who faced the hurricane fury alone and not he.

"Me?! He came after me!" Wilmington exclaimed incredulously. He could not believe he was being blamed.

"Oh that’s why he’s unconscious?"

Buck realized he fought a losing battle and much to everyone’s surprise, especially Larabee’s, Buck held his tongue. Inez turned away from the indignant gunslinger hiding her bemused smile and faced the other three men. They had the gambler back in bed under blankets, she watched as he shivered despite the increasingly intense heat of the day.

"Why don’t you gentlemen take a break and leave him to me." Her piercing brown eyes left no room for argument nor did the others want to contradict her. So with much haste, possibly the most fearsome group of men in the territory hurriedly shuffled out the door under the irritable scrutiny of the small senorita. JD attempted to sit up, but she nailed him with a steely gaze and he melted defeated back onto the bed. Nathan favored her with a thankful smile as he gently closed the door.

Once the room emptied out she turned her attention to JD. For his part he tried not to visibly cower when she faced him.

"Well now JD, how are you feeling?"

He smiled cautiously, "Better ma’am." Dunne faced her warily. Anyone who could dictate to Chris, Buck and the others was a force to behold.

Inez laughed, "Take it easy JD I don’t bite." She went to the door and turned back "How about something to eat?" JD’s stomach still felt queasy but he recognized the thinly veiled order in the seemingly benign question.

"Sure." He watched amazed as she opened the door and very unlady like shouted to Buck to bring up some beef and bread.

A few hours later, Josiah cracked open the door to the clinic. JD slept soundly in the far bed, the partially eaten meal had long since been discarded. Inez sat on the edge of Ezra’s bed and with a rag in hand wiped his face and head. She dipped the cloth back in the cool water and continued to wash his arms and shoulder. Standish lay on his left side his back to the porch door, the blankets pulled to his hip. Inez hummed softly as she rung out the cloth and rubbed his back careful of the large angry raspberry. Standish mumbled and tossed his head, but she quickly calmed him with a soft litany of Spanish. Her touch and voice soothed him and once again he settled into a fevered slumber. Sanchez watched unnoticed for only a moment before his baritone voice broke the afternoon spell.

"How is he?" The preacher crossed the room. For such a big man Inez thought he moved gracefully and quietly. She wondered how long he had been there. Determined not to be embarrassed by her actions she continued her bathing of Standish.

Inez smiled briefly at the preacher.  Of all the seven he came across as the calming influence. The wise uncle or even father figure. Chris Larabee was no doubt the leader in the strange collection of men, and JD unquestionably the younger brother and sadly, as Inez had grown to know the men, Ezra Standish obviously the odd man out. Strange she thought, the men paired off, Chris and Vin favoring their quiet company, JD and Buck forever badgering one another, Jackson and Sanchez notoriously fixing the church. That left Standish alone. Inez did not think it truly bothered the gambler but at times she found him watching with longing as the others bantered back and forth like brothers. He joined in on more than one occasion and his quick wit and satirical manners proved more than adequate in badgering the others. At those times she would smile and laugh from behind the bar, more in relief that he would and could find camaraderie in the other six men. Josiah Sanchez, she had noticed, took on an almost father figure for the sometimes obstinate gambler. He never judged the younger man and always seemed available when Standish faltered or wavered. The preacher never lectured, never berated the southern con man, but guided him into acting with some semblance of a conscience. (occasionally she had seen how easily Ezra could rile the giant Josiah, sending the preacher to the solitude of his church roof spewing an unholy string of obscenities born of frustration, to hammer mercilessly at innocent nails. At these times Ezra would laugh outright with an amused glint in his jaded green eyes.)

Inez smiled up at the preacher as he sat on the opposite side of the bed and felt for a fever. It still raged, muscles still twitched and tensed. Josiah sighed something had to give and soon.

"He has been quiet for the most part," Inez answered. Sanchez merely nodded and stared at the large raw scrapes that adorned the gambler’s ribbed back. Chris had told them Ezra had tried to climb out of the hole. It obviously did not work. The preacher, unlike the others, had not been surprised when Ezra commented that he did not expect the others would come back for him. Funny, Josiah knew the gambler would have returned for any of the others. Standish, however, believed the others held his life to a lesser value than those around them. Sanchez chuckled softly, probably why the gambler in his own right did everything he could to protect his own precious neck, he figured no one else would.   Inez, Josiah observed, had managed to put a chink in the wall in which Standish surrounded himself. They all had for the most part, but none as quickly or cleanly as the petite Mexican woman.

Sanchez surprised her and himself when he finally asked, "Are you ever going to let him know?" Inez dabbed Standish’s forehead and then gazed up at the preacher. His question sincere.

"That obvious?" she felt embarrassed and lowered her eyes to the light brown shortly cropped hair of Standish. He slept heavily through the conversation. Did she feel more than friendship for the southern gambler? She honestly did not know. She longed to spend a night with him, but was it out of love? Inez could not trust her own feelings as confused as they were when they concerned Standish. She heard Josiah chuckle. She dropped her head even lower, embarrassment clouding her features.

"It’s not obvious at all." She heard him say.   Inez lifted her eyes upward again and met his smiling blue eyes. She sought proof to his statement. He provided it, " If it were, Buck would back off, or the others would ask him too," Josiah grew serious and indicated with a nod of his head to the gambler, "Ezra would most certainly."

Inez smiled briefly at the thought of Buck Wilmington, consummate ladies man, bemoaning his fate if he lost out to Standish. "I fear Senor Standish only sees me as a friend, nothing more."

"I can’t think of a better place to start a relationship." Sanchez smiled and stood, leaving Inez to sort out her feelings.

The thunderstorm hit fast and furious. Thunder rolled and boomed throughout the blackened heavens. Streaks of lightening flashed across the desert, striking haphazardly across the barren land.

In Four Corners the citizens welcomed the late evening storm. Winds whistled and howled as rain deluged the area cooling things considerably. Flash floods in this particular area were not feared but below at Eagle Bend and Bitter Creek the fearsome watery torrent made people edgy. Inside Nathan’s clinic Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington did their best to soothe the escalating fevered terrors that tormented Standish. As the storm grew with intensity so did the fever and the struggle. It was just passed midnight when Buck and Chris finally calmed Ezra enough that he no longer cried out or actively thrashed about. Both men stared at one another from across the bed. The dim kerosene light casting long soft shadows about the room.

"This can’t keep up," Buck whispered staring down at the shallowly breathing gambler. Standish moaned and rolled his head left and right, cursing rats.

Chris rubbed his own face tiredly, "I know." There was nothing else they could do, but wait.

Buck woke to a moan. He sat up tiredly his muscles cramped from sleeping in a chair, rubbing his eyes. The sky was predawn grey, the rain had stopped but it was thankfully cooler.  Buck stood and stretched, someone muttered, "aw gawd," and blankets shifted.

Wilmington walked over to the beds. JD slept curled under a blanket unmoving. Buck turned his attention to the gambler and noticed Ezra blinking. Wilmington sat gingerly on the side of the bed and rested his hand on Standish’s sweat drenched forehead.  The fever had broken a few hours back, and sweat poured from his body.

"Hey pard’ how you feelin’?" Buck asked as he took a rag and wiped some of the rivulets of perspiration from the pale features.

Ezra blinked up at him confused. His eyes roved around the room and then settled back on the gunslinger, "Buck?" His voice was hoarse and gruff. Buck smiled.

"Yeah pard’ its me." It was the first time in days it seemed Standish actually looked at him. "How you feelin?"

Standish struggled to roll onto his back, his body exhausted, Buck helped him.

"Terrible." A simple grunt like answer, barely understandable.

"Here have some water." Again Buck had to raise the southerners head off the pillow and gently ease the tepid water between cracked dry lips. He gently placed Ezra’s sweat slick head back on the soaked pillow. "Better?"

"Yeah." There was a pause and then, "JD!" Standish weakly tried to sit up but Buck easily held him still.

"He’s fine, he’s right over there." Buck pointed to the young sheriff who slept only a few feet away. Standish breathed a sigh of relief. "You did good Ezra," Buck said seriously.

Ezra relaxed somewhat, back against the pillow, and finally said, "I was not the only one there." Standish would not take all the credit -- he still had problems with his recent rash of Good Samaritan actions. Wilmington smiled and laid a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, he watched the gambler fight to stay awake but it was a futile battle. Finally the green eyes rolled and the lids quit quivering as they shut.

"Get some rest Ezra you deserve it." After a few minutes Buck stood to leave, the motion must have jerked the gambler back awake briefly.

"Buck?"

"Yeah Ezra?" Wilmington was surprised Standish still fought to stay awake.

"Thanks for coming back." His eyes closed again and his breathing leveled out.

Wilmington shook his head, "anything for a friend Ezra. Anything." Buck settled back down in his chair watching the gambler. For the first time in days Ezra Standish slept without nightmares.

"Hey Miss Casey," Nathan said as he and Josiah climbed the wooden clinic steps. The young woman sat in a chair on the second story porch. She sat reading a book, the thick cloud cover offering some protection from the summer sun and keeping things cool. "What are you doing out here?" Jackson asked as he and Sanchez stood on the porch pausing at the door.

Once Casey had heard what happened she rushed into town to see for herself that JD was okay. One could easily see she seethed angrily. Casey forced a smile, "Ahh JD’s being a jerk. Won’t stop complaining about everything. To bad his jaw weren’t broke and not his leg" She paused and looked up at the healer and smiled slyly, "You couldn’t splint his mouth shut or something could you?" Josiah and Nathan both laughed, young love, fickle at best.

"Well at least he’s feeling better." Josiah commented. "How’s Ezra?" Casey paused and a genuine smile crossed her features,

"Sleeping like the dead, hasn’t moved even a little." She brushed a stray unruly strand of hair out of her eyes and added, "you probably could stampede cattle through there and not wake him." Grins split the men’s faces as the pushed their way through the door.

JD sat up when he heard the door open, "Ahh it’s about time. Nathan can’t I get out of here now." His young voice booming off the walls. True to form, Ezra slept curled on his left side facing JD’s bed, undisturbed by the sudden outburst.

"JD keep it down, you’ll wake Ezra."

"Shucks Josiah, Ezra wouldn’t wake up unless you blew up the building around him. He ain’t moved for hours." Dunne said sliding straighter up against the head board. Nathan checked the splinted leg, gently fingering the bruising. JD hissed and tensed. "Do you have to do that?" Jackson ignored him. The healer then examined the wound on the head and rechecked his eyes. Dunne fidgeted the whole time anxious for Nathan to stop. "Cut it out Nathan, let me out of here." JD was sick of sleeping and tired of being cooped up in the clinic. He wanted out and despised his forced imprisonment. Josiah shook his head he was going to join Casey on the porch if this kept up.

"Sorry JD, you need to stay off that leg for another few days," Nathan said straightening up. The fracture was healing nicely but he knew the boy would not take it easy once he regained his freedom. Nothing was more important to the young than their independence.

"Aww Nathan!" he whined boisterously. JD did not think that he could stand another day cooped up in the same room day after day. At least the searing heat had finally let up and a cool breeze briskly cut through the small room. Small consolation for being trapped in bed.

"JD keep your voice down." Josiah hissed. He sat on the gambler’s bed and Standish stirred. The easy rhythm of sleep caught, the eyelids unpeeled briefly and then closed. His legs stretched out only to curl back up, he muttered incoherently and then quieted down. Sanchez watched him a moment more and then turned to the young man, "show more consideration." His voice low and calm.

JD bit his lip and nodded uttering a puppy whipped, "sorry."

Nathan shot Sanchez a look, the boy was hurt and restless, he did not need to be berated.

Josiah sighed, "Listen JD someone has to keep a close eye on Ezra here, he’s been pretty sick. The others are beat tired and Nathan and I were hoping you and Casey could just sit in here, and let us know if anything changes."

A worried expression crossed the young face, "he really that sick?" It was Nathan who answered with a simple nod of his head. JD leaned his head back and quietly stated, "Wow he never gets sick."

"Well he is now." Josiah added, "Can we count on you and Casey?" Sanchez implored softly.

JD suddenly finally bestowed with responsibility, found himself in a position to watch over one of the seven. It put a whole new light on his confinement. Ezra needed him, he would not let the gambler down. "Yeah of course."

Nathan shut the door behind Casey as she headed back into the clinic. The healer then turned and faced the preacher, "You must be taken lessons from Ezra." Nathan chuckled, "You were very smooth."

The two men headed down the steps and Josiah added, "Forever the student."

Josiah and Nathan were soon joined by Chris, Vin and Buck. The early afternoon sun had yet to effectively push it’s way through the cloud cover. The heat wave seemed to have broken.

"Hey boys!" Buck exclaimed as he whirled into the room like a storm. Chris and Vin right behind him were a little less flamboyant. Tanner’s conservative smile lit his face making him appear his usually friendly self. Chris even with the forever stony expression appeared more approachable. The threesome pulled up a chairs joining the healer and preacher.

"Buck told us his fever broke early this morning. He going to be okay?" Vin asked as he poured himself and the others a social shot of whiskey.

Nathan smiled and nodded, "Should be." He paused as he munched on a biscuit Inez had served him earlier. Josiah picked up the thread:

"JD and Casey are keeping an eye on him for awhile."

Buck snorted and commented, "Who’s gonna keep an eye on those two?" This caused Vin and Nathan to choke.

"Well lets just hope they don’t wake Ezra." Josiah said. He trusted the two youngsters and knew that their modesty would keep them from dabbling in any kind of foolish exploration in the presence of the gambler awake or not. Inez brought over a basket of fresh baked bread and laid it on the table with churned butter.

"Inez, do you think you could bring something up for Ezra in case he wakes up anytime soon?" Chris asked. The young barmaid smiled and nodded. Larabee figured the presence of Inez would keep Casey and JD honest. Josiah smiled knowingly at Chris nodding his head in agreement.

Inez pushed open the door without knocking. The two youngsters sat whispering conspiratorially. There heads snapped up at the intrusion.

"Good afternoon Ms Casey and JD." She carried a tray of food enough for all the occupants of the small clinic. Her eyes fell on the con man who now slept on his right side. Beads of sweat spotted his forehead, face and shoulders. His normally well kept hair stood up in various spots. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment and then she remembered the two youngsters. She smiled at them and brought the tray over to them. "I’ve made you something to eat." She stared at JD and with a steely gaze said, "I hope you eat it young Senor or Mr. Larabee said he and Mr. Tanner would enjoy forcing it down you."

Casey muffled a chuckle at JD’s look of horror.

"How is Senor Standish?" Inez asked making her way over towards his bed. Casey answered as JD inspected the food finding his stomach growling with hunger.

"He hasn’t woken up yet, but he’s been rambling about cards, full houses, straights that kind of thing." Casey left JD and joined Inez.

The Mexican barmaid sat on the edge of the gamblers bed feeling for a fever. He felt okay. He stirred under the touch mumbling about rats and cards. "Shh Senor Standish," she softly intoned waiting for him to quiet down. He did so quickly. Inez smiled briefly to herself and left the clinic.

Ezra heard voices. Fear gripped him, was he back in the clutches of his Uncle? He tried to control his breathing. The voices continued and moved closer. Standish tried to open his eyes but his eyelids felt so heavy. Almost to heavy to lift.

"Hey I think he’s waking up?" It sounded like Buck. Ezra blinked again still gamely trying to open his eyes. He heard Buck call his name. A hand touched his forehead. He tried to move his head and found even that was difficult but he succeeded to some small minute degree.

"Buck?" His voice sounded even foreign to him. His normally smooth drawl sounded harsh and scratchy. His throat dry and constricted.

"Yeah Pard’ right here."

Ezra finally managed to open his eyes. He could not recall ever feeling so wiped out in his life. Well a few occasions came to mind but he pushed them aside. It took a bit but finally Wilmington’s features came into view.

"Hey welcome back," Buck said. Wilmington sat on the edge of the bed a large mustached grin creased his features. "Here have some water." Buck raised Standish’s head off the pillow a eased some water between dry lips. Standish for his part drank it greedily. "Whoa easy Ezra that’s enough for now." The gunslinger laid the gambler’s head back on the pillow. "Better?"

"Yes, Thank you." He smiled weakly but enough to bring out his dimples. "JD?"

"Fine, he’s outside sitting with Casey," Buck answered. Ezra noticed Buck’s black eye and the cut that crossed the bridge of his nose.

"What happened to you?" he asked, something nagging at his sleep drugged mind.

Buck smiled again rubbing his eye and nose. "Ahh nothing." Ezra saw movement behind the gunslinger and Josiah came forward.

"You’re looking better. How ‘ya feeling?" Standish stared at him for a moment and then a memory came rushing to the forefront like a steaming locomotive. The two men saw the sudden change of expression, something akin to fear and terror crossed the pale features. "My uncle?" He asked almost in a whisper.

Josiah placed a reassuring hand on the younger man’s shoulder, "was never here."

Ezra looked at him with disbelief, " I hit him with a rock." His brow wrinkled with concentration trying to dredge up memories that were spawned from fevered delirium.

"Rest assured it was not him." Josiah calmly explained.

"Really? It seemed so real." He paused and took in Buck’s beaten features and then he figured it out. "Thought you were my cousin?"

Buck merely nodded and joked, "You pack one hell of a punch."

A crook embarrassed smile crossed Standish’s face, "sorry." His eyes grew heavy and sleep tugged persistently at him. "Who’d I hit with the rock?" his voice sounded distant and heavy with sleep.

He heard Josiah chuckle and say, "Oh just Chris."

"Aww gawd he’s gonna kill me." Ezra moaned and slipped back to sleep.

Chris Larabee strode out of the Clarion and gazed down the street. His intense blue eyes settling on the clinic. He squinted shading his eyes and realized Standish sat cross ways on the top step leaning against the railing. His fever had broken yesterday morning and Nathan said he’d be as weak as a newborn. It seemed true. The normally quick witted smart mouthed southern con man could not handle a friendly conversation. He slept mostly, waking only to eat and use the privy. Both activities requiring aid. Chris had laughed when Josiah told him what Ezra had said when the gambler learned he hit Larabee with a rock. The gunslinger had yet to go make amends, every time he had visited the con man, Ezra was sleeping.

Larabee made his way down the boardwalk and up the clinic steps. Standish rested soundly, his head tilted back against the railing his legs stretched out across the steps and rested against the opposite railing. He wore Josiah’s coat. Chris shrugged it did not seem cold enough to warrant a coat, especially Sanchez’s overcoat. But the gambler had been sick and his system still fought to keep itself on an even keel. Larabee settled two steps down and opened his book leaning against the outer railing. He hoped Josiah and Nathan’s carpentry skill would not fail him.

Chris had read approximately eleven pages when a startled yelp and quick motion above him grabbed his attention. Larabee gazed up and watched as Standish let out a strangle cry and bolted up right.

"Whoa easy Ezra. You’re all right." He reached up and laid a comforting hand on the gambler’s shin. Standish jumped back even further bringing his legs up, his eyes snapped open roving wildly. Larabee stood up cautiously, he knew all about nightmares. "Easy Ezra, come on wake up." The gunslinger softy whispered watching the bewildered green eyes blink and then stare wide eyed at his surroundings. The green eyes fell on him. "Ezra you with me?" Larabee had let his book slip to the steps.

Since the coming to his senses yesterday the gambler had not shown any signs of reliving his past, until now. Larabee watched as Standish blinked a few more times and finally asked with disbelief:

"Chris?"

"Yeah Ezra it’s me, you ok?"

"Yes," It was an unsure answer but as the gambler took in his surroundings and realized he was back in four corners, back home, a more confident, "Yeah I’m fine. Thirsty"

"I’ll have Inez bring you up some water."

"Really Mr. Larabee I was hoping something along the line of a more soothing libation, in a more relaxed atmosphere." Ezra slowly climbed to his bare feet, Chris smiling but not overtly offering aid. Standish like the others had his pride. He’d make it to his own feet Chris just wanted to make sure that he did not tumble down the stairs. Nathan would be very upset. Together the two men navigated the steps and headed toward the saloon.

"About the rock…," Ezra started to say.

Chris chuckled. "I should be more watchful," Larabee stated, halting any unnecessary apologies. Nathan said the stitches in Chris’s forehead could come out in ten days. Standish smiled to himself, thankful Chris did not intend to shoot him.

The two men took seats with Buck and Vin at the customary table.

"Nice outfit Ezra." Tanner commented dryly a smile cracking his features. Standish peered down at himself, he wore the same pinstripe pants with suspenders pulled up over his bare torso that he had been wearing for the past couple of days. The suspenders were covered by Josiah’s giant overcoat. His light brown hair stuck up on end, it had become unruly since he fell asleep just after indulging in a bath a few hours back. A half smile crossed Ezra’s pale features and he wiggled his bare feet under the table.

"Unfortunately Mr. Jackson and Mr. Sanchez have not found it in their misplaced hearts to allow me to find decent attire." Inez came to the table with four shots of whiskey.

She bent down a smile brushing her lips, "It is good to see you up and around Senor Standish."

"Thank you Inez."

The men enjoyed a social drink making small talk, eventually discussing about the impending transfer of the Terrell gang.

"Judge said we’re to bring them up to Bitter Creek, day after tomorrow," Larabee said

"How many of us go?" Buck asked. Though the gang had pretty much been shot and buried, but they had friends and relatives.

"He wants all of us," Chris answered. This caused an uncomfortable silence at the table. JD obviously could not ride a saddle with a freshly broken leg.  Ezra cocked an eyebrow at the leader of the seven. He knew that if Chris asked him to ride he would, strange as it might seem. Ezra was no fool either -- just to descend the steps and traverse the boardwalk to the saloon left him in a sweat with trembling legs. A chill still ached his bones, despite the summer warmth he could not keep warm. Chris had noticed the ease in which fatigue settled on the con man as they made the short walk to the saloon. Larabee also knew Standish disguised it under a cool facade, but he could not mask the rolled shoulders and slowing steps or glistening of perspiration on his features. Even as he lifted his shot glass the normally steady hands shuttered slightly. It would be awhile before Standish would be up to the challenge of a full day or nights work.  "I already wired the Judge, just waiting for his reply."

Ezra nodded and started to sip his whiskey.

"What, in God’s name!! do you think you are doing?!" The unmistakable baritone exasperated voice of Nathan Jackson roared through the saloon. Buck and Vin dropped their eyes both glad they were not the target of the explosion. Larabee with his back to the saloon door smiled at the apparently unperturbed gambler. Josiah Sanchez’s soft rumbling laughter rolled like thunder on the heels of the on coming storm. Inez from behind the bar smiled as Josiah winked at her in a conspiratorial manner.

"Have you lost your mind?" Nathan briskly cut across the saloon to the table. He reached down to grab the whiskey glass from the gambler’s hand but Ezra quickly tossed back the fiery liquid grimacing at its sharp passage down his gullet. Jackson quickly pulled the now empty glass out of the gambler’s wielding hand. "You trying to kill yourself?" The healer intoned harshly Ezra merely raised his eyebrows in an innocent fashion. "Don’t you give me that look." He hissed. Standish laid it on thicker.

"Easy brother." Josiah intoned softly, ever the calming influence.

"Easy?! Easy?! We’ve been trying to get him back on his feet for over three days!" He turned and fixed the gambler with a deadly stare and hissed, "Three very tiring days." He turned his attention back to the other men, who suddenly found their hands very interesting. For their part they felt both sorry and worried for their gambling friend. "And now y’all have him out drinking whiskey. What’s next poker?"

"Speaking of which.." Ezra produced a deck of cards seemingly out of thin air and was about to ask if anyone wanted to play. A wicked smile cut his features. Larabee bit back a chuckle. Standish always had to push the line.

"Don’t you dare." Jackson seethed, "you are going back to get some sleep."

"Mr. Jackson, your concern, while touching is not necessary I feel fine." Standish replied smiling broadly his gold premolar sparkling.

"Yeah well when you fall on your face you can be rest assured I’ll hog tie you down to a bed." Nathan pulled up a chair and much to Ezra dismay sat beside him. Jackson smiled slyly at the conman, "and I know you ain’t no good with knots."

This received chuckles from around the group. Standish nodded grimly. Actually he was feeling very tired, he had to stay awake. Ezra Standish would not give in, not easily admit defeat. He started dealing cards.

"Hey Ezra who’s Captain Joe?" JD asked. He had joined the group twenty minutes earlier. Chris, Vin and Nathan no longer participated in the card games. Josiah watched amused as Ezra had turned the few cents he had found in the preacher’s coat into a few dollars. JD held his now newly dealt hand and did not see the shocked and openly dismayed expression on the gambler’s face.

Buck vowed he would have a talk with the youngest member of the seven later.

Ezra swallowed peered at his cards briefly and then at the others. Finally a crooked smile crossed his dimpled features and he met Nathan with an amused stare, "That far gone?"

Nathan suddenly felt embarrassed, many people revealed private demons or fears in fits of delirium. Nathan normally kept those secrets to himself. In Standish’s case his violent and active reaction to the fever had forced Jackson to enlist the aid of the others. They had become privy to the gamblers hidden and buried pains and past. The healer had hoped the others would respect Standish’s privacy and keep those exposed glimpses of the card man to themselves. JD was still very young in some aspects. A slight flush crossed Ezra’s cheeks. Dunne gazed up from his cards and stared at the con man with an innocent expression that had to be genuine.

"Well now Captain Joe... and may I assume a Ms. Kate?" He looked to Nathan but it was Josiah who nodded. Standish grimaced in understanding it must have been the preacher who had been with him at that particular point. Ezra wondered how much he had actually revealed about himself to these men and how much would he have to further expose in order to placate JD’s curiosity.

"Captain Joe and Ms. Kate were benevolent people who gave me a place to stay for awhile, on the coast." There he said it.

"Really? Wow. How long did you get to stay with them?" JD’s enthusiasm nearly caused the conman to groan.

"A little over a year."

"How old were you?" Dunne asked forgetting about the cards he held. The others sat quietly watching, waiting for Standish to quickly put an end to the line of questions.

"Approximately five." This took the others by surprise. He had been shuttled from home to home at an early age.

Before JD could ask another question, Josiah jumped in, " JD you gonna talk or play cards." This effectively cut off any more conversation.

For almost half a minute.

"Hey Ezra you still have that harmonica?"

Ezra merely groaned and laid his head on the table in resignation. Next time he got a fever he hoped he had enough sense to wander off somewhere alone.

Five minutes later Standish still had his head buried in his arms on the card table. The game had been suspended. "I think he fell asleep." Chris said cocking his head sideways watching the gambler. Ezra had not moved, the deck of cards slipped through slack fingers. "yup I’d say you’re right Chris." Nathan agreed watching the con man with a critical eye.

"Hey Nathan you aren’t really going to hog tie him down, are you?" Vin asked slightly concerned for the southerner. Jackson smiled wickedly.

Buck and Josiah hauled the mumbling and unsteady gambler to his feet. He swayed weak-kneed, worse than any drunken cowboy on a Friday night. Jackson said he would follow the others up but he had to go to the livery first. They sat Standish back down on the bed. He had finally fallen asleep as Sanchez peeled the coat off him, and slid the suspenders down before laying the gambler back down to the bed.

"He’s out but good." Buck said tossing the blankets back up around the bare shoulders. Both turned when Jackson bounced into the room carrying a thick three foot length of rope. "You’re really going to do it?" Wilmington said amazed. Jackson without a word flipped a corner of the blanket back exposing a bare ankle and proceeded to secure it to the bed post. Once satisfied the southerner would not be able to undo the simple knot Jackson smiled pleased with himself.

"He’s not going anywhere now."

Ezra woke feeling refreshed. He rolled onto his back and stretched. He tried to draw his legs up but found only one moved freely. His left leg was firmly attached to something. Standish panicked at first until Josiah’s face peered down at him smiling.

"Sleep well?" he watched Standish try to move his left foot again, to no avail. Then Standish remembered Jackson’s threat.

"He didn’t..., He wouldn’t dare," Standish muttered in frustrated indignation, bolting up. He sat up so fast, he became dizzy.  Josiah grabbed him and easily steadied him.

"Easy son." Sanchez lowered him back onto the bed.

Ezra gazed up at the preacher and simply said, "I thought we had that straightened out."

Josiah laughed good naturedly bringing a smile to the gambler. "Yeah, on both accounts.  He made good on his threat." Josiah paused and stated, "It’s worked so far. You haven’t been wandering around up to any roof tops or sleeping on steps."

Ezra smiled and added, "or saloons." He stretched again yawning and arching his back. His stomach growled.

"You should be hungry." Sanchez said helping Standish sit up and rest against the head board. JD slept quietly in the next bed. It was then the gambler noticed the light outside. Early morning. How could that be?

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Fourteen hours. It’s about four in the morning." Sanchez said as he uncovered the breakfast that Inez had just brought up. The independent barmaid had sat with the gambler half the night watching him sleep. When he started to climb out of the depths of deep slumber she left to cook up breakfast leaving it with Josiah. "Chris and the others are going to deliver what’s left of the Terrell gang up to Bitter Creek." He handed a jellied biscuit to the southerner.

"Mr. Larabee worked his magical charm on the judge and pardoned me from such drudgery."

Josiah smiled and nodded, "He told the Judge you would just pass out and cause more trouble than you’re worth. The Judge agreed."

Standish rolled his eyes and shook his head.

It took two days of frustration, and an endless string of obscenities before the gambler freed his foot from the rope. It would have been much sooner except he had no endurance, and therefore, slept often. The first thing he did once free was get a bath, change his clothes and join the life he had grown comfortable with in the saloon. By that time Larabee, Tanner and Wilmington had made it back from Bitter Creek.

The next few nights they could be found sitting with the gambler playing relaxed games of poker. Chris had noticed, though Ezra was itching to get back to his usual table of higher stakes poker, but he held himself in check and took things slower. He tired easily, his dexterity not a hundred percent, yet even on these off nights he won more hands than he lost. JD joined them, and much to Ezra’s relief asked no more prying questions. Buck knew the kid wanted more answers but refrained, Wilmington nodded to himself -- JD was a good listener and a better friend.

Nathan hovered over the two without trying to appear to. Whenever, Standish stifled a yawn Jackson would smile and dangle a small section of rope in front of the gambler and much to the amusement of the others Ezra would begrudgingly excuse himself from the table and head to his own room. Within a few weeks JD was using his leg too much, and Nathan could be heard admonishing him, and Ezra graced his normal table for poker up until the waking hours of the next day. One early morning Josiah had awoken to find someone had swept the center aisle of the church, spotless. Things had returned to some assemble normalcy for Four Corners.

The End