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.
Disclaimers: Not mine, No money made.
Thanks: Twyla J. for sending me my story after the link broke...
Warnings: Grammar and the such.
"What happened again?" Tanner drawled out. He swayed slightly in the saddle holding onto the horn. His chin hung heavily against his chest. Dry rivulets of blood had blazed undaunted through the heavy layer of dust that covered his face. The once sharp blue eyes appeared glazed. The pupils were slightly unequal. Ezra could not be sure if the right one was too dilated or the left one too constricted. Standish figured it really did not matter the fact remained the same, the pupils were unequal. The stalwart tracker had a concussion at the very least and hopefully that was all. Standish sighed when he heard the question again. The unflappable gambler was becoming irritable. He had lost count how many times Vin had asked the same question in just the last twenty minutes. For as many times the question was asked Standish answered. At first his answers had been detailed explaining every moment of the gunfight, but as time wore on and the same question repeated itself the answers fell inadequately short. "You hit your head." Ezra did not bother looking back over his blue pinstripe shoulder, but simply mimicked Vin’s "oh." The question was always the same, the answer varied and the response varied from an ‘oh’ to a ‘huh.’. The endless monotony of it all was slowly driving the man of chance crazy.
The sun hung high in the sky baking the ground and all that ventured out
into it. Vin had lost his hat in the scuffle as well as his horse. Ezra had
squashed his hat on the bobbing head. Standish led his rented horse by the
reins. The animal’s limp was becoming more pronounced. So much for hoping it
would walk out of it. The gambler stared at his surroundings they were more
than ten miles from
Ezra limped also, matching the horse. He had felt his ankle swell immediately in the confines of the boot when it happened. He had snagged it in between two fallen trees as he dove for cover. The trees did not give much latitude but his ankle sure did. Standish chuckled remembering how he had held his ankle cursing his fate rolling on the ground toward some bushes as bullet ripped through the air. Vin had yelled at him to ‘quit floundering around like a beached fish and get under cover.’ Between firing, Ezra had shouted back a snappy retort. Then the unthinkable happened. A ricochet. A bullet skipped off a boulder slightly changing angle, reducing velocity and struck the tracker with a glancing forceful blow off the corner of the forehead. It was enough to spin Vin partially around standing him upright for a moment before he fell like an unstrung puppet to the ground.
Standish had watched in horror. His heart stopped, he screamed Vin’s name and started firing. At first he fired like a mad man, the sudden uncontrollable rage taking over. Then somewhere in the back of his mind ,like a drill sergeant, he heard his mother. Maude, admonishing him for such an overt show of emotion. With a murderous glint Standish searched and found his targets one by one and squeezed the trigger of his Remington’s. His sudden accuracy was more than noticed by their attackers. The ambushers having realized they woke a sleeping demon slipped back into the forest. They would leave their prey for now. Two bodies laced the wooded ground.
Standish waited a few minutes, watching wearily for the cretins. He tried to listen but could only hear the roar of his own pulse. He held his breath but found he was to winded to hold it for more than a few seconds. Satisfied he and Vin were once again alone the gambler hobbled toward his fallen comrade, ignoring the two corpses for now.
Tanner lay only a few hundred yards from Ezra. Standish jogged the best he could favoring his injured ankle. He slid over fallen trees and leaning windfalls all the while waiting for a bullet to rip into him. It did not happen. He found Vin lying flat on his back. Blood ran freely down the left side of his face. His left eye had already begun to swell. What surprised Ezra and sent him to his knees in relief was the fact Tanner blinked lazily up at the sky. "Mr. Tanner? Mr. Tanner can you hear me?" Standish watched the tracker. Vin gave no indications he knew anyone called his name. Instead he blinked slowly staring up at the cloudless midmorning sky as if fascinated by it. Ezra furrowed his brow and rolled Tanner’s head toward him by the chin. Still the eyes gazed upward. "Mr. Tanner? Vin can you hear me?"
A drunken smile crossed the trackers features. "Oh great", Standish moaned. He noticed the change in pupils. This did not bode well for either of them. "Vin how many fingers am I holding up?" Standish held up two fingers. The tracker seemed to study them for a brief moment the smile sliding from his face as he concentrated. He shifted his attention upward again the smile returning and drawled out, "Bluuue." Vin tried to raise his hand upward to point skyward but the effort seemed to much so he let his hand fall back with a resounding thud.
Ezra shut his own eyes and muttered, "oh just great. This is just wonderful."
It had taken him twenty minutes to find his rented horse. Vin’s was nowhere
to be found. What could one expect from rented livery stock. Stoltey gave them
the best he had but those two mounts did not hold a candle to Chaucer or Peso.
Both animals were still recovering from a particularly grueling ride. (Their
masters were not offered such respite, a point Ezra really wanted to take up
with their leader. Vin had told him the better part of valor was to keep his
mouth shut and let Larabee alone. Nathan did not really relish the company of a
recuperating Standish and that was sure to happen if the southerner approached
With a string of profanity and more effort than Ezra would have thought needed he managed to get Vin into the saddle. The movement must have been too much because suddenly Vin’s stomach heaved. Ezra jumped back as quick as he could, trying to avoid the cascade of gastric juices, hooked his injured foot in a bramble and fell unceremoniously on his butt. His feet easy targets for Vin’s upset stomach suffered the consequences of Standish’s clumsiness.
"Aww hell," Ezra had hissed, his foot screamed out in protest, almost as much as he did as Vin’s breakfast began to saturate his fine custom made leather boots.
Now three hours later, baking in the hot afternoon sun, favoring an ever throbbing bad ankle, the unmistakable stink of vomit clinging to him , Standish lead his horse closer to Four Corners. "What happened again?" Ezra closed his eyes against the question. Maybe if he just gagged the Texan.....he stopped the thought. There had been a few times when Vin had to protect and nurse the gambler back from his fair share of blows to the head (like last week). Standish of course could not remember those times clearly but if it were anything like he was experiencing now he owed the tracker one heck of an apology. "You hit your head." The simple clipped answer. Ezra lip-synced Vin’s vocal, "huh." It was always the same. Standish took another unsound step forward the horse mimicking his limp with its own. A dry wind kicked up not easing the scorching heat but adding to Standish’s increasing discomfort. Days like this made him appreciate life in the saloon.
Buck and JD lounged outside the very saloon Ezra longingly thought to reach.
"Hey Buck when you think Vin and Ezra will get back?" Dunne tossed
his knife onto the wooden boardwalk, once again it stuck point first. He leaned
down out of his chair to retrieve it listening for an answer. "I don’t
know. If Ezra found himself a poker game probably not til tomorrow. Otherwise
Vin would push for them to be back today." Wilmington wiped his brow on his
shirt sleeve. It was way to hot. "How come
The week before Vin, Ezra,
Buck had been about to question Vin when the tracker merely stated,
"he’s used up two so far." Buck knew better than to push
"What happened?" Buck had asked. Standish merely raised his eye brow and answered the question with an innocent question, "what makes you think anything happened?" With that the gambler delicately walked toward the bath house.
Something had happened, something big. No matter how hard Buck pushed no one answered. Even Nathan got the run around, very, very unusual.
Buck turned his attention back to JD, the kid held his knife poised to throw
but hesitated, eyeing his older friend. "I don’t know kid, but let’s say
you and me find out." Buck quickly stood from his chair. He was tired of
ruminating over the possibilities. He gazed down expectantly at JD who still
remained seated. JD squinted back up at him, "you think that’s smart Buck?
"Yeah, but it’s been four days, he’s fine by now." With that
Wilmington hauled JD to his feet. "Trust ol’ Buck he knows what he’s
doing." Wilmington added with confidence he did not feel. There was no way
Buck was going to face
Ezra licked his dry lips again. ‘Allot of good that did,’ he thought. His
tongue felt like it were made of wool. He picked up a pebble and popped it in
his dry mouth. It stuck to his cheek. He worked it back and forth trying to
stimulate saliva production. A trick an old slave had taught him as a boy. Good
ol’ Sam, always looking out after the young boy, no one else would. Standish
smiled warmly at the memory, Ol’ Sam was his first true friend and his last up
until recently. Ezra smile turned into a chuckle, "wonder if Mr. Larabee
is still seething?" He pondered the question and finally decided, ‘yes.’
Maybe Vin had been right, when he prevented Ezra from speaking his opinion
about going to
"Vin?" Ezra rested a hand on the tracker’s leg. Again no response.
"Vin?!" Standish spoke loudly shoving the leg trying to rouse the semi conscious man. It worked... too well.
Vin lashed out with his leg, a strangled yelp erupting from him as he suddenly sat up. Standish caught the well placed knee just under the chin. Lower teeth slammed against upper teeth pinching soft cheek tissue in between. The gambler stumbled back stepping wrong on his bad ankle. Pain radiated up his leg as the leg gave out and once again he fell backward landing hard on the sun dried clay, his hands flung out behind him to break his fall. A sudden shooting pain in his wrist almost matched the intense throb of his ankle but nothing equaled the misery of cut torn inner cheek muscles. He swallowed his pebble. ‘Oh wonderful.’ Standish closed his eyes wondering if this day could get any worse. At least now he had liquid in his mouth, albeit his own blood, but beggars could not be choosey. He silently prayed the pebble had no sharp edges.
"Ahh Mr. Tanner you have returned to us. Are you ok?" Ezra climbed to his feet slowly moving his sore wrist in a circular motion trying to work the pain out. Tanner stared down at Standish, and then fingered the cut and exceedingly large lump on his head, "whaa happn’d?" the slow drawl heavy and mumbled. Standish sighed, "You hit your head."
"Oh." Vin replied. Ezra bobbed his head up and down. Right where they left off. He took the canteen from the saddle, "you thirsty Mr. Tanner?" they had been through this before. They only had a bottom full of water left. Not much but they did not have far to go. Maybe another eight more miles. Vin did not respond vocally but merely stared at the gambler as if he had grown horns. "Here Vin drink some water." He raised the canteen up so the tracker could drink never letting it go afraid the one time nimble tracker would drop it. He pulled the wooden jug away after a few sips, "that’s enough for now."
Ezra contemplated taking a drink himself. More than contemplated begged with himself to allow himself just one tiny sip. Just one sip, it would not hurt anything. Besides he cut his mouth he needed something to wash it out with, just one little sip. What harm could it do? It had become so hot, surly he could not allow himself to pass out from dehydration not out here, who would help them if he did? Ezra longingly gazed at the canteen as if he held gold. With more will power than he thought he possessed he recapped the container and put it back on the saddle.
Standish gathered up the reins and started off in the direction of home.
‘Never had a home before’, he mused then corrected himself. Good Ole’ Sam had
almost been a home, but he was a slave, on his Uncle’s plantation. Ole’ Sam
helped him create a nest of sorts in which the young boy found refuge and
shelter and hid a few of his belongings. Almost a home.
With matching limps, horse and transient owner set off once again for
"Huh."
**************
"Hey Pard’. What ya doin’?" Buck asked as he slid into the chair across from his old friend. It forced JD to sit next to the leader of the seven. Dunne did nothing to hide his discomfort. He kept his gaze at his hands trying very hard to disappear from view.
Josiah and Nathan entered the saloon. The afternoon was just to hot to be
working on the church. Despite his best efforts Nathan could not pry any
information from the man beside him. Josiah had politely brushed off any
inquiries about the trip the week before. Jackson did not normally try wheedle
information from others but the tight lipped behavior from the foursome drove
him crazy. Something had happened, as always Ezra appeared to be at the bottom
of it. All four men had returned battered cold and dirty. Only Standish sported
bruises to his countenance. Nathan had tried to check him out but Ezra, as was
typical, brushed him off. Still very much out of character
The two physically imposing men entered the saloon. They paused slightly
letting their eyes adjust to the dark interior. Buck and JD sat with
The young Mexican beauty flashed a cocky smile. She grabbed a partial bottle of whiskey and shot glasses and made her way over to the table. She too had noticed something was amiss. Silently she prayed senor Standish would be ok. It seemed he had an uncanny ability to anger Larabee. She was truly fond of the southerner and wished no trouble befell him.
Ezra stared accusingly up at the sun. No clouds dotted the light blue sky. The sun glared down mercilessly, no trees offered shady protection. Standish had finally tied his blue duck tailed coat around his head letting the rest drape over his back. It added some protection from the burning rays. If only his mother could see him now. She would admonish him severely. Standish chuckled at the thought. He would gladly take on his mother if she had just a drop of water. Ezra licked his dry split lips again. He thought of the canteen, fixated on it. The horse limped painfully beside him. The bay’s long nose nearly dragged on the ground. It too had stopped sweating, its body unwilling to foolishly waste precious liquid. Standish peered over his shoulder at the tracker. Vin slumped forward in the saddle, his body swaying with the hitching gait of the poor horse. The canteen banged hollowly against the saddle. The gambler licked his lips again, just one sip, what would it hurt? "No." He had not meant to say it out loud. It was enough however to break the trance. He had to think of something else. Whiskey. Not much better, but Inez’s features floated into his mind and a dimpled smile creased his dust laden face. His thoughts took on a whole new direction though whiskey and water played minor parts.
The horse stumbled. It nearly went down, pushing its head into Ezra’s legs knocking the unsteady gambler to the ground. Standish fell face first into the hard packed dirt. He lay there for the moment, breathing hard. It seemed to take all his energy just to fall, now he had to contemplate getting back up. Closing his eyes he and gritting his teeth he pushed himself to his hands and knees. He struggled to his feet, holding his left foot so only the toe barely touched the ground, he surveyed the horse.
The bay’s stance mirrored his own. It stood three legged lame, holding his right foot out and up no longer placing any weight on it. The other three legs shook with exertion. Its blazed face held close to the ground. The dark sorrel coat had become a light dusty grey as a result of the relentless wind. Guilt lanced the gambler’s soul. No animal should be used like this, put through its paces like this poor broken down beast. Ezra ignored the dropped reins and patted the animal’s neck comfortingly.
They were only three miles from town. The horse did not have three miles in
it. Standish smiled sadly on any other day he would not have three miles in him
either. Today he had to, Vin needed him to, somewhere deep down inside the
Southerner had better find three miles or he would lose his friend, and he
would surely lose his home in Four Corners. Three miles, anyone could walk
three miles, right? It was a wager he had to win, Vin and home verse staying
out in this. Ezra surveyed his bare surroundings, nothing but semi arid land,
no trees, no people (save Vin) and no future. He could make town, he and Vin.
The tracker would be able to do it as well as all the others. He would too, he
would prove to himself and the others, especially
He had never quit, never run out on a gamble, and would not fold now. The
Seminole village did not count, he mused , he had no stake in the others
futures then, there was no gold in the mine. Now however, the six others had
come to mean more to him than gold, well almost. Would he trade gold for their
friendship? No, not today, not yesterday, but that day at the
With new determination he reached up and slowly slid the unconscious tracker from the saddle. He gently rested Vin on the ground and proceeded to unsaddle the horse. With the tack somewhat hidden from view, he turned his attention back to the bounty hunter. With a groan he wrestled Tanner across his shoulders. Ezra adjusted the dead weight, grimacing as his injured ankle cried out in protest. He stared at the discarded canteen and the now unsaddled and unbridled horse. The poor beast had never moved. Standish had offered it the last of the water. It was not much but the run down horse had licked greedily as the gambler poured the small inadequate amount of water into the corner of its mouth. "I’ll come back for you girl, promise." The conman had whispered as he patted the horse’s neck. Again the soft billow of dust which rose from the animal was quickly wisped away by the dry wind. Standish had flipped the back of the coat over Vin, hoping to protect the bounty hunter somewhat from the slowly setting sun. He rolled his neck freeing the pinched skin, and started walking. Three miles. Anyone can walk three miles.
Josiah and
"Come on over Inez no since leaving anyone out." Josiah had spoken
watching Larabee’s gaze. Buck pushed his chair out and slapped his lap
lecherously, "you can sit here Senorita." Inez came from behind the
bar and ‘accidentally’ knocked a shot full of whiskey over onto
Larabee nodded at Sanchez indicating the large preacher should begin the tale.
Ezra no longer tried to bring his head up. His neck and back muscles burned fiercely. His stomach churned, nausea rolled through him in waves. The sun had set. How long had he been walking? Three miles? No, he would have been in town by then. His right knee and hip ached with each step he favored his left ankle.
Tanner was not as light as he appeared. Vin had groaned a few times mumbled incoherently and then vomited. Standish was too tired to care. Vomit clung to his arm and leg, matching his boots. Ezra just hoped maybe it made Tanner lighter. Not that he felt any lighter but any little bit helped. Standish continued his marched. He never noticed the full moon that illuminated his path or the millions of stars that flickered in the black sky. All he saw was the ground immediately in front of him. Three miles, he could do three miles.
Buck and JD sat outside the sheriff’s office leaning back in their chairs.
The night was cooling off quickly. Buck chuckled softly unable to stifle the
building laugh. Dunne caught the infectious sound and joined in. Soon both men
were wiping their eyes. "No wonder
"Amazing he didn’t shoot ‘im right there. Reckon Ezra knows how lucky he is right about now?" Buck asked no one in particular. JD firmly shook his head ‘no’.
Josiah, Nathan, and
Buck rubbed his eyes tiredly. He stood and stretched another small chuckle bubbled out. His sides hurt from laughing. He raised his arms over his head arching his back stretching. Something caught the gunslingers eye. A shadow more than anything. A form slowly fighting to take shape out of the inky blackness. At first he thought it was a drunken cowboy but as the form metamorphosized out of the night, it took on an all too familiar form. Buck dropped his large callused hand on JD’s shoulder. Dunne had seen it too. "Oh my God it’s Ezra and Vin." He whispered not quite believing the hunched staggering form to be a combined silhouette of his two friends. "Go get the others." Buck whispered shoving his young friend in the direction of the saloon. He quickly jogged to intercept Standish.
Ezra had given up on clear thought. He just kept walking. His shoulders burned, his neck felt like strained coiled rope. He did not notice the change in light. Did not notice that the path he had trod upon became a road. His peripheral vision had shut down and the buildings and board walks to his left and right went unnoticed. All he had to do was take another step. Anyone could take another step. He bumped into an obstacle. He wanted to lean into it, but then he would not take another step, he had a rhythm, he needed another step. He stepped to the side and continued forward. Again he hit an obstacle. It seemed to grab him. It would be ok to lean just a little then he could take another step.
JD
burst through the batwing doors, "Nathan,
Nathan
swore at what he saw. Buck had intercepted Ezra. Standish had his head bowed
under the weight of the unconscious tracker. The gambler tried to walk around
Josiah,
"Whoa, whoa easy there pard’ you made it home." Buck gazed over his shoulder at the fast approaching threesome.
"Josiah
get Vin." Nathan said as he stopped beside
Sanchez tried to ease the tracker off the gambler’s shoulders. Ezra felt the shift in weight and tried to accommodate it by moving underneath it again. He would not drop Vin. Vin would never drop him. Josiah shook his head, he understood what the gambler was trying to do. "Easy brother let me get Vin." He tried again to lift Tanner from Standish’s shoulders but again Ezra slid underneath, tightening his hold, trying his best to keep Tanner from hitting the ground. Buck grabbed the gambler’s arm holding him still as Josiah tried once again to pry the unconscious form from the gambler’s bent shoulders. He was successful this time.
"No. no. no." Standish buried his head in Wilmington’s’ chest his legs slowly giving out allowing his body to melt toward the ground. All the time shaking his head denying he was loosing his bet. Buck guided and followed him down all the while trying to convince the stubborn southerner he had made it to town.
Josiah
hefted the weight in his arms to a more manageable position and then quickly
carried the tracker toward the clinic. Larabee followed hot on his heels.
Nathan made to go but stopped and turned back toward Wilmington, "Buck get
Ezra up here too." The gunslinger merely nodded never turning around.
JD stood behind Ezra staring at Buck. Even by light of the full moon he could make out the thick layer of dust that coated the southerner. His blue tailored jacket which had been tied around Standish’s head, appeared to be a smoky grey. Dunne silently wondered what had happened to Ezra’s prized low crown black hat. He did not notice Vin in one. JD watched as Buck tried to talk sense into the conman. Even on a good day that was hard to do, unless Ezra had already made up his mind to listen.
"Ezra you’re ok. You made it back. Vin’s safe." Wilmington matched JD’s gaze with a helpless look. He really did not know what to do. Standish would not lift his head, would not look Wilmington in the eye. Buck pushed Ezra’s coat off his head and then forced the dusty face to look at him. "Ezra, we’re right here. You made it to town." Buck smiled in relief at the questioning gaze that stared owlishly back at him.
The conman furrowed his brow and raised a shaky dirty hand. He pushed delicately on Buck’s shoulder. Was he real or just another hallucination. The form in front of him had substance. Standish’s trembling dirty hand hit something solid.
Wilmington allowed himself to totter back a few inches. A slow unsteady crooked smile crossed Ezra’s features. He blinked and rubbed his eyes leaning back on his shins. "Buck?" It came out hoarse at best, barely a whisper.
Buck and JD both smiled, "Yeah Ezra it’s me." Wilmington grasped the conman’s chin and turned it left and right making sure there were no obvious cuts on his head. Standish brushed the hand irritably away, "Cut it out." He rasped out. JD nodded, ‘yup Ezra was back,’ he thought.
"Come on Ezra lets get you up to Nathan let him check you out." Buck hauled the gambler to his feet by his upper arms. JD grabbed the other arm and helped. Standish struggled briefly for a moment trying to free his arms and then stopped. It seemed no use he would be forced against his will to the dreaded clinic. "Vin?"
"Already there." JD answered. He could feel the heat emanate from the cardshark’s body. He wondered if it was a fever or some kind of heat stroke. Dunne stared openly at Standish. The gambler walked like an old man, stooped shoulders and a shuffling limping gait. He could not hide his curiosity any longer, "what happened out there?" JD just shrugged at Buck’s raised eyebrows. There was time enough for questions once they knew he was ok.
"Ambushed by four men, we got two of them." Standish breathed out. His thirst not forgotten. Suddenly his dull green eyes spotted a water trough. With a last ditch effort he pulled his arms free of Buck and JD and ran the best he could, dragging one foot, for the trough. Before Wilmington and Dunne could stop him, he dunked his head into the warm water and began taking huge gulps of water.
" Aww Ezra don’t do that." Buck yelled running over to the hunched gambler. He forcefully pulled the gambler from the trough. Standish fell to the ground and tried to scramble back to the glorious water. He never thought plain horse trough water could taste so good. The gunslinger pushed him back. "Cut it out Ezra you’re gonna make yourself sick."
JD grabbed one of his arms and together he and Buck hauled Standish back to his feet.
"Now just quit," Buck was saying leading the struggling gambler back to the second story clinic, "you ain’t doin’ ya self any good." Buck no sooner got the words out then without warning Standish’s stomach forcefully returned the unwelcomed water.
Ezra’s knees buckled, his stomach heaving for all its worth. It rebelled against the sudden weight and stretching. Buck and JD let him slip to the ground on hands and knees. With arched back, curled fists and forehead buried in the dirt, Ezra groaned as his stomach retched. It made sure it was empty with a few dry heaves. Buck sighed and swallowed, he had been there before. It was extremely hard to ignore the primal impulses for water when one had been deprived for so long, but the body was as fickle as women, or so Buck figured, sometimes, it says it wants something and then throws it right back at you.
"You through?" Buck inquired once Standish settled back onto his haunches. Ezra merely nodded, not having the strength to lift his head. His body shook from the sudden exertion, muscles quivered and he suddenly felt very cold. Once again Buck and JD eased him to his feet.
Nathan
and Josiah had Vin stretched out on the bed. Josiah had washed the tracker’s
head wound as
"Ok
Josiah let me get a look."
Nathan
then did a quick cursory exam before straightening up. "Concussion at
least, no broken bones, dehydrated some, heat affecting him too." Nathan
peered down at his patient and then up at
Larabee nodded silently and then asked, "You gonna stitch that wound?" He pointed to the deep furrow that marred the trackers forehead.
"Nope it’s a pretty dirty wound," He paused and smiled at Josiah with an apology, "not that you did not do a good job but there is just to much fine dust and if I close that wound it’ll just fester and abscess."
Sanchez quickly nodded, he took no offense. Then the clinic door was kicked open, grabbing the attention of the room’s occupants, except Vin.
Buck and JD had finally been forced to drape Standish’s arms around their shoulders. He had cried out weakly when they lifted his arms slightly above his shoulders. The gambler now slumped between the two men, his left leg dragging behind them, bearing no weight.
"Where you want him Nathan?" Wilmington hissed out. Standish’s trim form belied his apparent weight, the guy was a ton.
"Over
there on the cot."
"What
happened?" Nathan asked as he started examining Standish. On hearing the
question, Ezra groaned, not again, and rolled his head weakly from the healers
grip.
"He drank from the trough and then puked his guts out." Wilmington said going to check on the tracker.
The
boots were a challenge. The right one slid off without a struggle. When Josiah
lifted the left, Standish moaned and tried to pull his foot away. "Easy
Ezra."
Standish let out a strangled holler and shot straight up throwing himself off the bed. He crashed into Nathan and both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Ezra grabbed for his left leg and continued to roll trying to free himself from whatever grabbed for him.
"Owowowowow." rapid fire spilled from the gambler’s dry lips as he gripped his thigh. He tried to sit up but found himself too weak and settled for curling into tight ball trying to cradle his injured leg rocking back and forth.
"Easy brother, you’re alright." Sanchez’s baritone voice soothed sounding off the walls as he knelt beside the gambler. "Had to get that boot off you know."
"Alright my ass," Standish hissed between clenched teeth burying his head in his chest. Nausea ripped through him again. Ezra feared he would be sick.
"Let’s get you back on the cot." The preacher pulled the younger man from under the arms and dragged him back to the cot.
"Damn that hurts." Standish hissed as Josiah plopped him back onto the small bed. Nathan climbed slowly to his feet giving the conman a wary look.
Standish smiled sheepishly still laying on his left side hunched over, "sorry, Nathan." He still gripped his leg fiercely trying to stave off the pounding pain in his ankle.
"It’s
alright Ezra, just figured you wouldn’t want us cutting your nice boots
off."
"Alright
let’s get a look at that foot." Nathan moved to the foot of the bed. From
the gambler’s general appearance, he suffered from the effects of the heat and
dehydration just like Vin maybe slightly worse.
"Let’s not." His southern drawl suddenly sounded wary between clenched teeth. Standish had been forced to lay back unable to keep himself sitting up. His abdominal and back muscles had put out enough effort today and would not easily give anymore.
"Ezra
don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be."
"It does not have to be difficult, Mr. Jackson I merely twisted it. Moving it left and right and bending it up and down will only cause me great discomfort. Though you’ll probably take great pleasure in it, you’ll find no broken bones." Ezra said slightly peeved, he felt winded. Ezra knew what he was in for and for the first time that day felt envious of the tracker.
Nathan
sighed. Why did it have to be the difficult ones? At least Vin was unconscious.
If it had been JD, Buck could bully him into paying attention. Buck and
"Ezra
shut up and let Nathan do what he has to." Larabee tiredly said from
across the room. He had kept his eye on the conman from the time Buck and JD
hauled him in to the room.
Josiah watched as Ezra clenched his teeth at the sudden order. If there was one thing the conman did not do well that was take direction. Offer a suggestion, not a problem, force his hand and he dug his heels into the ground. Sanchez had seen it before when his father preached his fire and brimstone. Some were bullied into their faith, others followed like sheep and still others turned their backs and walked away. The ex-preacher had learned early, he would reach more people with simple logic and understanding than with lightening and force. Ezra would push back if shoved. The preacher reached for a bottle of Laudanum. Nathan nodded his consent.
"Here Ezra drink some of this." Before Standish could argue Josiah poured the foul liquid down the southerner. Standish sputtered and wiggled but the preacher easily held him still. Finally, unable to hold out any longer the gambler was forced to swallow. Reflexes took over and another gulp quickly followed the first, followed by yet another. Josiah pulled the bottle back satisfied the gambler had swallowed some of the medicine.
"That dubious sir was not nice." He sputtered. " Not nice at all." Standish wiped his mouth on Josiah’s sleeve. A small token of revenge. "What happened to treating your lambs gently?"
"You’re no lamb Ezra." Sanchez intoned smiling pleased with himself. He had managed to get more than a full dose down the smaller man. Josiah and Nathan stood leaving the conman laying on the cot. It would be a few minutes before the sedative and painkilling effects of the opiate would take hold.
Larabee
saw his chance to talk to Standish about the events of the day.
"You want to tell me what happened today?"
Standish
stared up at the formidable leader of the group. Ezra did not envy this man.
Larabee had traveled down some hellish roads and paid dearly for the trip in
the form of sleepless nights and haunted days. The past only seemed a thought
away. Larabee kept it under control for the most part until it became to much
to bare and then he found solace in whiskey. A liquid retreat that only afforded
him a partial night of rest before the drunken stupor would wear off. Ezra did
respect him though, respected him more than he had ever respected anyone in his
life. Most people were not worth the effort of trust and friendship let alone
duty and loyalty. Something in the dark clad gunfighter pulled Standish onto
the path of trust and duty. Not that Ezra did not put up one heck of a fight
but somehow
Standish merely shrugged at the question. Of course he was not alright, he felt liked fried chitlins, his foot hurt, his back and shoulders complained with every movement and Josiah ,the big oaf, forced Laudanum down him. Now Larabee was staring at him like he was personally responsible for the days events. Of course he was not alright. "I’m fine."
Larabee let the falsehood go, "What happened out there?"
Ezra
closed his eyes and sighed reopened them and started, "We made it to
"Yes,
Mr. Tanner said something very similar to that." Ezra ran a hand over his
face trying to keep himself coherent. “We made maybe four miles, still in the
thick of the ponderosa pines when people just started firing at us."
"It’s not gonna work this time." Ezra muttered, he would not fall victim to the drug.
"Ahuh."
Nathan nodded patiently gathered his wraps and then gazed over at Josiah, "Why does he have to fight everything? Can’t he see we’re just trying to help him?"
Josiah sighed, "I suspect Brother Nathan, any aid Ezra encountered before us, came with a steep price. He’s just not willing to pay."
Vin
came to late in the evening. He was disoriented and confused. Nathan watched as
the tracker blinked and try to focus uncooperative eyes.
"Hey Vin how you feelin’?"
"Nathan?" the Texan’s drawl was hoarse at best barely a whisper.
"Yeah,
you’re ok now, you’re back at town."
"My head hurts. What happened?" Vin tried to rub absently at the cut that adorned his forehead but Nathan easily prevented by laying a hand over Tanner’s.
"You and Ezra got ambushed early yesterday morning?" Nathan answered trying to gage the level of awareness from the younger man in front of him. "You remember any of it?"
"Ambushed? Ezra ok?" Vin asked still furrowing his brow trying to recall something.
"Yeah he’s fine. It’s you I’m worried about." Nathan smiled.
"Why’s my head hurt?" Tanner asked again fighting to keep his eyes open.
Nathan
nodded to himself, he expected this, "you’re ok Vin just get some
rest." The healer watched as his patient drifted easily back to sleep.
Ezra woke to a pounding headache it matched the throbbing in his foot. "Aww hell." he moaned quietly to himself. He slept on his left side, facing out into the room. Not his room, the clinic. Then the memories of yesterday came flooding back. Vin! Standish quickly craned his neck backward, immediately regretting the action as muscles complained. He relaxed as much as possible, when he saw Vin in the bed across the room with Nathan sleeping in the rocker. A half smile crept across Standish’s reddened tanned features, Nathan hovered over his patients with the same intensity Larabee chased down criminals.
The morning air was sharp and crisp and so Standish huddled back down in the comfort of the bedding. Funny he mused, how just yesterday he nearly baked liked blackened catfish now this morning it seemed just a little above freezing. Thank god he they made it home. Then he remembered his promise. His stomach turned and he bit his lip. He really did not want to venture outside. Everything hurt, everything ached, he felt run down, and beat up. Besides it was too early. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and stared out at the ever lightening grey pink sky. The sun had not even come up. The blankets slid off his bare shoulders. He shuddered at the sudden coldness and lay back down under the covers. He could just lay here a few more minutes.
He made a promise. Ezra Standish closed his eyes in resignation and quietly forced himself out of the confines of the bed.
Standish never saw the first rays of daylight unless he still occupied a seat at the gaming tables or unless someone was hauling him forcefully from his bed. Larabee smiled those were times he greatly relished. Like early mornings, the gambler made very little noise when roused from his slumber, after the initial shock. Almost as if his brain and more importantly his mouth refused to function before eight am. Most times he just glared murderous looks and did as was asked tight lipped or slightly mumbling but normally without a fight. Once his mouth finally kicked into gear, then watch out, any hope of a tranquil day was shot. Standish would complain and moan enough to cause a nun to curse. It was a double edged sword.
Larabee
held back his dark bay shadowing the conman. After a little over three miles,
the gunslinger realized the gamblers destination.
Ezra slid from Chaucer’s back. He landed gently on his right foot, delicately placing the tightly wrapped left one on the ground. No splint, not fractured just like he had told them last night. No smile creased his features. He led his horse to a bramble and draped the reins over the bush. It was unnecessary, he and Chaucer had been together for well over five years. If Standish had ever thought of a true and trusted friend he thought of his horse. With his quarter horse somewhat secured he turned back to the task at hand.
The bay lay on her side. When the gambler approached her she shifted her frail weight onto her chest. Her injured right front leg tucked protectively beside her. Her dark sorrel coat had been completely transformed to a desert grey. Dust coated her entire body smudging any contrast that existed between her black mane and tail and chestnut body. She watched him as he approached her slowly talking as he would to a small child. His southern accent taking on softer lilting tones, so as not to frighten the animal. She had not gone far from where he and Vin had left her. No, Ezra corrected himself, abandoned her. His saddle and gear lay only a few yards off the trail somewhat hidden from view by brush.
Standish petted the horse’s neck, a small plume of dust left off her, at his touch. She watched him warily. The gambler knelt down and inspected the now grossly swollen appendage. He placed the bridle back on her, and gently tried to urge her to her feet. With a few tries and soft but firm encouragement the horse gained its feet. The right front dangled uselessly, taking an odd angle at the cannon bone. Ezra shut his eyes. She had not been that bad off when he left her. He searched the immediate area and found the offending gopher hole. He patted her nose again whispering his apologies. The gambler stepped back, pulled his revolver. Drawing an imaginary line from the lateral part of her eye to the opposite ear and doing the same with the other eye, and invisible X was made. Standish raised the gun, X marked the spot, and squeezed the trigger.
The roar of the gun shattered the peacefulness of the morning. Chaucer snapped his head up, ears forward watching his master. Content he himself was not in danger went back to foraging through the foliage for something to eat. Standish watched as the bay’s legs buckled, a forceful breath was expelled from its lungs and it crashed to the earth in a heap. Very little blood seeped from the wound but blood poured from both nostrils. The eyes had rolled and then came back fixed and dilated. It tottered for a second on its chest and then rolled onto her side. She was dead before she hit the ground. Standish uttered another apology, holstered his gun and set about the task of saddling Chaucer.
Larabee watched from a distance. Shocked. He could see even from where he
was the horse had a broken leg. What unnerved him the most was Standish. You
never knew what the man would care about next. He had seen the conman take on
his fellow man, turn a callused attitude at those around him yet entertain
children as if they were his own. He would not share a meal with a questionable
character but throw scraps to a dog. It was just a horse, but even from his
vantage point, Larabee could feel the dread and grimness the gambler felt.
Last week, coming back from Little Springs, in torrential down pours, rivers over running banks, Standish pulled the most incredible stupid move Larabee had ever witnessed in another human being. A dog stuck out on a snag, barked incessantly. They all heard it. They all turned and saw the big black dog, marooned on the ever piling debris, water violently tore past loud enough to muffle even the panicked bark of a dog only a few yards from shore. All turned to ignore it, except the cardshark. Before anyone could say anything, the damn fool had dismounted Chaucer and climbed a tree that over hung the river. He eased his way out onto a limb and dropped nimbly onto the log jam, next to the dog. Larabee wanted to shoot him right there and then, what was the fool thinking? Josiah and Vin, prevented him, but the anger in Sanchez’s eyes matched Larabee’s. The preacher would prevent the shooting so he could beat sense into the southerner when or if they managed to get him to shore. Vin just smiled shaking his head, as if he suspected this kind of twisted behavior.
They had thrown a rope out to him. Standish had secured the rope around his
chest and gathered up the beast. It bit him. They watched from shore as the
gambler stepped off the unsteady jam into the dark icy waters, clinging the
fighting beast to his chest. He had smiled at them, confident and cocky the
others would be there to save him. Larabee had dallied the rope around his
saddle horn. The rushing water had quickly whipped it’s new prey down stream.
The rope grew taut as Standish hit the end of its length.
With the rope pulling free, Josiah dove over
Tanner left
The dog seeing it was very near shore, climbed frantically from the weakening grasp of the southerner and jumped the rest of the way to land, taking off into the ever encroaching evening, never looking back.
Josiah reached into the water and hauled the water logged conman from its black grasp. The preacher would have decked him there but the smaller man had finally succumbed to the lack of oxygen and had passed out. Sanchez had half a mind of flipping him upside down and beating the water out of his lungs by flinging him against a rock like one would beat a rug, but instead turned the other cheek, for now. They flopped the conman belly down on the ground keeping his head lower than his legs and beat the water from his chest, perhaps a little more vigorously than necessary. They watched as he vomited, gasped for air, vomited again and then blinked opening his eyes. He had the gall to smile. Larabee had drug him to his feet and then punched him squarely in the jaw sending the gambler back into the thick mud and unconsciousness.
Larabee rested his wrists on the horn of his saddle. He watched Ezra tighten
the cinch and flop the stirrup down. The conman was forced to mount from the
right side, favoring his left ankle. It was a feat, but Chaucer seemed patient.
Larabee could not help but think Ezra thought more of his horse than he did
most people. He certainly treated the horse better than most people, strange.
Larabee tired of hanging back rode up and waited for Ezra to break back over the crest of the trail. If Ezra was surprised he hid it well. "Ahh Mr. Larabee what do I owe the pleasure of your company so early in the morning." The smile and tone were there but the tired red eyes and clenched jaw muscles spoke volumes about his discomfort.
"Want me to pony him home?"
Standish nodded slightly breathing out a soft thank you. They rode the rest of the way home with minimal conversation. Each enjoying the day and surprisingly each other’s company.
A few hours later, covered yet in another layer of fine dust, Standish
entered the saloon.
"There he is!" Ezra slowly gazed up from his cards as Mr. Harlow
and Nathan Jackson entered the saloon.
"Nathan is there a problem?" He sipped his whiskey, hiding his fatigue behind a laconic smile.
"Yes there is a problem! Someone stole money from my till."
Standish raised an eyebrow at
"I assure you gentlemen, and I use the term in its most loosely translated state, that I did not abscond with any monies this fine morning." With that Ezra returned to his game of solitaire and sipped his whiskey, effectively dismissing the two men from his presence.
"See I told you Mr. Harlow, Ezra ain’t no thief."
"Besides Ezra believes thievery is below him." The healer continued trying to steer the angry man away from the gambler. Standish appeared as tired as Nathan felt.
"No I’m not satisfied! I want him searched!"
Nathan too tired to fight turned gazed imploringly at the gambler to just comply.
Standish could not believe
"Ezra this ain’t necessary." Nathan whispered softly. He had never seen this side of the gambler. He had seen Ezra angry, seen him swallow his pride and hide his hurt behind a sly smile and a carefree demeanor but he had never seen this, a cold rage exposed for all the world to witness.
Larabee entered the saloon just as Standish shattered his whiskey glass off the floor. He leaned against the bar and motioned for Inez. The barmaid bit her lip in sorrow and made her way to Larabee.
"What going on?"
Inez quickly explained in hushed tones. Larabee simply nodded his head and
slid over beside Standish.
Ezra had stripped to the waist. The lariat’s yellow fading bruises and the
dog scratches readily apparent for all to see. He continued to glare at
This received a few chuckles from the scattered patrons who watched with rapt attention.
"I hope not Mr. Harlow because I for one won’t do it." Larabee said removing his hat and starting to undo his shirt.
"If you accuse one of my men you accuse me."
Ezra hid his surprise. Someone backed him up, of all people,
"Well Mr. Harlow?" the gambler held his hands poised on the button, waiting. He caught Inez smiling behind the bar. Now she stirred him.
Inez smiled this was a dream come true, she just hoped this would have happened between the southerner and herself in more private environment. Standish, she knew, was not bashful especially when he had paraded through town wearing nothing but a table cloth. She sighed wistfully poured herself a whiskey and tipped it in the general direction of the gambler. Go for it.
"Ahh no Mr. Standish that will not be necessary."
Nathan shut his eyes he could see the building fury.
When Ezra spoke loathing and unforgiveness hung like a physical thing in the air.
"You come in here with malicious intent, and attempt to slander me and
then ask me to understand. I think not Mr. Harlow." Standish grabbed his
shirt and coat off the table slinging them over the back of the chair and sat
down. He nodded his thanks to
"Ezra you ok?"
Standish looked up and faced the healer. He knew Nathan’s hand was forced, knew the healer was just as tired if not more so than himself. Yet Ezra could not disguise his mistrust.
"Because I have stepped out of my normal behavior I am suspected of unlawful actions." He paused the cold emptiness of his tone matched his eyes.
The healer appeared just as hurt as the gambler.
"Let me present it to you this way, Mr. Jackson. You partake in the defamation of my character, and vilify me because I woke early. I expect as much from others, like Harlow, and I hesitate, but regretfully admit, expect it even of you. Now, however, in the next breath you show concern for my well being, decidedly a behavior outside your norms. I propose to you Mr. Jackson, why should I not suspect some subterfuge on your part?"
Nathan stood facing Ezra Standish. The gambler’s words stung. They hit their
mark and did their damage.
Ezra saw the pain he had inflicted on his friend with just a few words. Aww hell, he did it again. Let his mouth run. He got hurt so he lashed out at the nearest target. Figured it was Nathan. The man was like an open book. He presented exactly what he was, an honest, hard working man trying to ease everyone else’s pain and suffering, everyday, all hours of the day and night. Standish shut his eyes and shook his head slowly. Ezra sighed, he could not, nor did he want to be a man like Nathan. Those poor open hearted souls who bent over backward to selflessly help others normally became broken bitter men, trampled upon by an undeserving public. Nathan had avoided such dire treatment and still held onto his dreams. Today Standish had become one of the undeserving mindless nomads who firmly put his foot print on Nathan’s trust. This was not the healer’s fault he too was just a victim, just too tired to fight, to do the considerate thing.
"I’m fine Nathan just tired." A small apologetic smile creased his tired features. Standish slowly pushed back from the table gathered his cards and belongings and ascended the stairs.
Nathan took a seat next to Larabee.
Ezra was just about to the top of the stairs when Nathan’s voice stopped him
"Ezra?"
"Yes Mr. Jackson?" Standish turned and faced the knife throwing healer.
"What’s vilify?" A toothy grin spread across the healer’s
features.
"The wrong word used on the wrong person. My apologies." Standish returned the smile gratefully and shuffled down to his room.
Vin woke to an argument. Buck and JD. Tanner kept his eyes closed hoping maybe he could get back to sleep. He arguably had the worst headache of his life. The volume of the argument increased.
"Will you two shut up." Vin opened his eyes and found Buck holding JD in a headlock at the foot of the bed.
"Well look who finally decided to wake up." Buck exclaimed bit too loudly for Tanner’s headache. The tracker silently wondered if he had offended Nathan in some way.
"A bit testy too." Wilmington said shoving JD aside. Dunne pushed back not allowing Buck to get the last hit in.
"Yeah he is." JD said coming closer to the head of the bed. "How you feelin’ Vin?"
"Fine. Help me up." Tanner tried to sit up but the combination of the head wound and dehydration had taken there toll. Besides Buck held him down, "oh no you don’t. Nathan’s in a foul enough mood as it is, you’re not going anywhere."
The tracker settled back down without and argument. Buck appeared serious. Vin felt the wound on his forehead. "Leave it alone." Buck slapped the tracker’s hand away.
Vin glared annoyingly back up at the larger gunslinger.
"Forget it Vin it won’t work." JD added helpfully. He sat with resignation in the chair beside the bed.
"Nathan’s so mad right now, he’s liable to choke someone." Dunne settled down in the chair placing his feet up on Tanner’s bed. Buck sat dejectedly in the rocker.
Vin stared from JD to Buck then back to JD. Still angry at being cornered and forced into captivity he knocked Dunne’s booted feet off the bed. JD did not react, disappointing the tracker.
"What’s got Nathan so worked up?"
"Ezra." It was said in unison.
Vin watched both men waiting for an explanation but none was forth coming.
The tracker should have known. The damn gambler was as much trouble as a pit
full of rattlers. First he riled
"What’d he do this time?"
Buck and JD sat up, finally someone to listen to their version of the events in the saloon. Heck Vin did not need to know they got it second hand from a drunk cowboy. Wilmington, as was his typical style, embellished a few facts but the fragile base of facts remained the same. Standish had indeed woken up early.
The six peacekeepers sat around their customary table in the saloon. The sun
had set, allowing things to cool off. An assortment of partially full whiskey
glasses littered the table. Buck and JD after relating their version of events,
had relented and helped Vin get dressed and go to the saloon. Nathan had slept
most of the day away and woke less than an hour ago. He had seen Josiah exiting
the church and both men joined
"Hey Ezra!" JD called out as the gambler carefully picked his way down the stairs. Everyone turned saw the gambler and then returned to their drinks. Standish did not look up bent on concentrating negotiating the stairs. Once down he dragged a chair over and joined the others. Inez seemingly materialized out of nowhere placed a whiskey glass in front of him and another bottle in the middle of the table. "Thank you my dear." He gave here an engaging smile.
"Good evening gentlemen." Ezra smiled at the group and effortlessly began shuffling a deck of cards.
"Evening’ Brother." Josiah responded sipping his whiskey. The preacher tried to ignore the twang of guilt at the receding bruised cheek on the gamblers clean shaven features. Larabee in recounting the adventures of last week had discriminately left out large chapters, sparing Sanchez. Josiah had not deemed it necessary to enlighten the others on the missing pieces, at least not yet.
"Anyone up for a game of chance?" Ezra asked fanning the cards face down only to quickly reshuffle them again. There were nods of consent around the table. Standish began to deal.
"Mr. Tanner I’m surprised our intrepid healer has allowed you out and about so early after our misfortune." Ezra slid his cards into his hands.
Vin gathered his cards up scrutinizing them and answered, "yeah well after you wore him down it made it easier for me." Vin gazed up at Ezra looked him squarely in the eye and simply said, "thanks."
Standish raised an eyebrow, slightly embarrassed. He had done no more than what Vin would have done for him or any of the others. Well maybe Josiah, Ezra did not think he nor Vin would be able to carry the giant man anywhere.
Nathan, not sure how to broach the subject, simply stated, "We’re gonna
have to rewrap that foot of yours. It ain’t broke but it might as well be,
until that swelling goes down and those ligaments tighten, it’s gonna need
support." There he said it.
Standish looked up from his cards a slight smile present and nodded his ,"how ‘bout tomorrow?"
Nathan agreed nodding. The healer picked up his cards gazed at them and cursed the gambler. How come he was never dealt a winning hand?
"Hey Ezra you gonna do another striptease for us tonight?" Buck teased not bothering to hide his laughter. JD giggled trying to hide his laugh from behind his raised cards. Smirks spread around the table.
Josiah’s interest had been piqued, "striptease?" He paused and added, "did I miss something today?" Sanchez noticed the slight rise in color in Standish’s face, it was matched by Larabee’s.
Ezra allowed a small dimpled smile to cross his face, "Well Mr. Wilmington, maybe, but only for a certain, well charmed, audience of one."
Inez heard her cue. She sashayed over and bent down next to the gambler and a playfully nipped his ear, running her hands down his chest. With raised eyebrows and a devilish smile, Standish stared knowingly at Wilmington.
Buck’s jaw flopped open and nearly hit the table. Laughter from the five other men could be heard from outside the saloon. Things had finally come back to order, at least for some. Poor Buck.
The end.