"We gotta keep goin'."
"Ah am afraid that course of action is decidedly unwise."
"Who the hell cares what you think?"
There certainly was no guesswork required in determining exactly what J.D. Dunne currently thought of Ezra Standish. And certainly this time, the gambler from the South thought the derision coming his way from the young easterner was at least partially justified.
Three men, smartly dressed and practically 'reeking with opportunity', as Ezra commented upon their arrival, had rented the three most expensive rooms in the most expensive hotel in town, and spent most of their first day – yesterday – losing to Four Corners' resident professional poker player. A break for supper and libations at the hotel and all four men were back at it, playing well into the midnight hour. Ezra Standish went to bed exhausted, and monetarily sated.
The sun had barely risen in the eastern sky when the alarm was sounded in the form of J.D. Dunne yelling that the bank had been robbed, firing his matching handguns in the air to assure he had the attention of those most needed. As he saw them all pouring out into the street, he raced to the livery. Once most of the peacekeepers were present at the livery, J.D. gave them the news.
"Did ya get a look at 'em?" Chris Larabee asked as he checked the cinch on his saddle.
"Yeah. It was those fellas who were with Ezra all day yesterday. They took Buck at gunpoint!" The card sharp raised his head from his inspection of his own saddle on Chaucer.
"That seems most unlikely, Mistah Dunne. The gentlemen Ah bested at cards yesterday were all businessmen from Philadelphia. They were only passing through our dusty burg on their way to an investment opportunity in San Francisco."
"J.D., go see if they're in their rooms. Ezra, what're their names?" Chris demanded.
"John Roberts, David James and James Thomas." Chris stared at Ezra.
"You didn't think those sounded a little, I don't know Ezra, common?"
"Ah had no control over what they called themselves or whether they were obfuscating on the use of their real names, Mistah Tanner. Ah assumed they were using aliases because they were not supposed to be puttin' any of their business funds in the middle of a poker table. And even if Ah had reported the peculiarity in their names, what precisely would have been done?" Ezra checked the cinch one more time.
Chris had to admit that the answer was not much. "Vin, you got a good look at them, right?"
"Yeah." It wasn't as though the tracker was doing much beyond sitting and observing these days.
"Get over to the jail. See if they're on any of the wanted post … "
"They ain't," J.D. said as he rushed over from the hotel. "Might be on the next batch, though." He looked over to Ezra. "Their rooms are empty."
"On this evidence, it remains unlikely that they will show up on any wanted posters," Ezra said. Chris nodded, understanding what the former con man was saying.
"Vin, go see Mary. See if she's read anything about a trio like this." Ezra shook his head. Chris saw the action and said, "Go ahead, say what you're thinkin'."
"Ah believe this was well-planned. Ah believe this was their first con as a team. Ah believe they fooled us all." He looked over to J.D. and reiterated with slightly different phrasing. "All of us, including Buck." His fellow lawmen waited for whatever else Ezra had to say as he and J.D. stared one another down. Without looking away from the angry young man, Ezra said, "We are wasting time tryin' to find their faces. We should ride out."
"Don't know 'bout 'em not bein' wanted," Vin said, "but Ez is right. We should go."
"You're not goin', Vin," Nathan Jackson said. "You shouldn't even be out o' bed," the healer grumbled, though he knew he already lost that fight as Vin stood before him.
"You need a tracker," the injured tracker said.
"He's right, Vin. You can't ride. That wound'll open up in no time," Chris warned as he mounted Pony. "Nate, do you know when Josiah's due back?"
"Not for a couple o' days," the former slave said.
"All right. Vin, you take it easy. Get Robert, or Marty or Dave, if ya need help." An aggravated Vin Tanner nodded his head once but did not speak, tip his hat or otherwise acknowledge the suggestion.
J.D. and Nathan were already on their horses. Ezra mounted Chaucer and Chris announced, "Let's ride."
"Ezra's right. We should set up camp. Nate and J.D., find us a good, protected spot," Chris ordered.
"No! We got daylight," J.D. argued. He waved his hand over to the quickly setting sun.
"They are in this canyon, Mistah Dunne. Or the next. It is already in deep shadow … "
J.D. scowled at the southerner, turned to Chris, interrupting Ezra. "We've followed into something similar before, late in the day."
"Not this time of year. It's gonna be dark in less than half an hour. You know how these canyons are, J.D.," Chris countered.
"Aw, hell," the young man said. He turned to the big black man beside him. "Come on, Nate. We gotta go further."
Nathan lowered his head, then looked J.D. in the eye. "Sorry, J.D. 'Fraid I have to agree with Chris and Ezra. Too dangerous. Too late."
"Ezra don't know nothin'. Seems like none of ya does." J.D. jumped off his horse, dropped the reins to the ground and stomped away.
"Nathan?" Chris queried, knowing that the healer would understand the true question.
"I'll follow him. We'll come back when we find a place to camp."
"Thanks, Nate."
The healer turned to the gambler. "He's upset, 'bout Buck. He don't know what he's sayin'." Ezra nodded but remained silent on the subject. Once Nathan was out of hearing distance, Chris spoke to the former con man.
"It ain't your fault, Ezra." Both men dismounted. The southerner snorted derisively, shook his head, and turned to face the music.
"As Ah am the one of our group who was in their company the most, Ah would most certainly be the one among us to recognize a con was in the making. Ah was trained to recognize the type. Ah fear there may be some truth in J.D.'s conclusion. Mothah would be disappointed either way."
Chris looked the gambler in the eye. "If there's one thing we've learned about you over these last three years, it's that you will see something that might be something to worry about. Don't think there was anything there this time."
"Or maybe Ah have become too complacent. Maybe Ah am losin' mah touch."
"That's not what I think. And maybe you've earned the right to relax. Even of you missed something, it's one time in three years. Damned good rate of return. Figure you still have my money if I had to bet on it."
Ezra smiled gratefully. "Your support is much appreciated."
"I don't care, Nathan! We should keep goin'!" The healer followed behind the angry man as they burst back into the area where Chris and Ezra waited. Chris ignored the comment, save for one aspect of it.
"J.D., keep your voice down. Sound carries out here, you know that," Chris warned.
"It's like ya don't even care about him," J.D. said. Chris Larabee was in front of the young lawman faster than any of them would have expected. Both Nathan and Ezra moved swiftly to the two men who looked ready to face off.
Chris poked his finger hard into the town sheriff's chest. "Buck," he growled, his face not even remotely the inscrutable one he often projected, a tactic well-admired by the former con man of their group. "Buck," he said again, to assure that J.D. was listening, "is my oldest friend," Chris went on, accenting each word with a new poke to the young man's chest. "Don't ever say something like that again." The physical assault had stopped, but Chris wasn't finished with what he had to say. "I won't kill ya if ya do, but you'll wish I had." The leader of The Magnificent Seven turned to Nathan. "Show us where we're camping tonight."
Nathan looked to Ezra, who simply cocked his head. The healer turned back to Chris and said, "It's just over that hill, to the right. It's a small meadow with some cottonwoods. Clear runnin' creek. But it ain't all that well protected, near the edge of the cliff."
"No choice now. Show us the way," Chris said as he followed Nathan down the trail.
"I've sent queries to all of the newspapers in the territory, and one to Orin. Nobody recognizes the descriptions and there are no reports of similar activity," Mary said as she stood in the jailhouse. Vin sat in the chair at the desk, Robert Merton leaned against the cell door.
"So Ezra was right. This probably was their first heist," Vin said.
"If anyone was going to see that, it's Ezra," Robert said.
"They must be pretty good for Ez not ta get a whiff that they were up ta somethin'."
"We were lucky that the payroll and other deposits were late," Mary said. "They must have done their research; yesterday's deposit would have made the total around fifty thousand dollars. They only got away with about six thousand." Robert Merton was the owner of a large chunk of the money that hadn't been stolen, a transfer from the bank in Denver where most of his wealth resided.
"That's all that was in the bank?" Vin asked.
"In the vault, yes," Mary began to explain. Vin and Robert waited to hear more. "There is a … substantial amount of the bank's money that is held … somewhere other than the bank."
"Don't tell us anymore, Mary," Robert said as he pointed to the windows and the doors and then to his ear. In a hushed tone, the sometime lawman said, "While I think that might be a good idea, as someone with a large vested interest in that money, I'll want to know where it is." He looked from Mary to Vin and then back to Mary. With a crooked, knowing smile, he added, "But not today."
"Reckon we should send telegraphs to the nearest town in each direction, try ta let Chris and the others know how much money they got?"
"Do you think they don't know about the stage being late?" the newspaper publisher and town leader asked.
"Reckon they do. Ezra's with 'em."
The southerner was glad he'd grabbed his well-lined tan jacket and stored it inside his extra blanket inside Chaucer's stall. The slight aroma of straw was well worth the needed warmth. The wind was whipping through their definitely not protected camp. There would be no protection from the wind this night. Ezra doubted they would be able to keep a fire going with the wild, gusty winds.
"Here is some more wood," the gambler said quietly to the group as he dropped his fourth armful onto the pile. "For all the good it will do us," he added, not quite under his breath.
"You think I can't get a fire started?" J.D. challenged as he stood from his kneeled position and charged up to the poker player.
"Did Ah say that?" Ezra asked softly in an attempt to get J.D. to similarly keep his voice down.
"You might as well have," the young man challenged loudly.
"J.D.," Chris called firmly but without shouting. "Need ya to calm down, quiet down."
The easterner trudged back to the fire pit where he had been trying, unsuccessfully, to get a fire going. He made several more attempts when Ezra said, "Despite anyone's disinclination to go without a fire on this exceptionally blustery night, Ah believe further attempts to light one will be in vain."
"Fine. You wanna try it, try it," J.D. lashed out.
Ezra watched his young friend head toward the horses. The gambler shook his head and turned to his other companions. "That is not what Ah was suggesting," he commented quietly.
"We know, Ezra. He's upset," Nathan said, verbalizing the painfully obvious.
Chris kneeled down and gave the fire one last go. "He don't need to be like that."
"Yes, well, might Ah suggest that one of you gentlemen go to him and help bring the horses closer? We, and they, will benefit from the body heat of close proximity. And remembah … " the gambler started, but Chris interrupted as his attempt to keep a fire going was blown away with the last gust of wind.
"We'll keep their gear on 'em, just loosen everything," Chris said as he followed after J.D.
"Let's move under the trees, then, if we can't have a fire. All those dead leaves still on 'em will help if it starts to rain," Nathan suggested.
"Good lord."
"Don't know what you expect to gain from doin' this, boys," Buck said as he rested his head against the tree trunk to which he was tied.
"Shut up," one of his kidnappers said.
"I'm just tryin' to help. Takin' a lawman hostage is a serious offense." Not that robbing a bank wasn't, but the ladies' man cared far more for his safety than he did for any amount of money this group had gotten away with. And Buck knew they got away with less than they'd planned with the stage being delayed.
"Shut up or we'll gag you."
Buck shut his mouth and wondered how far behind his rescue party was. They most likely hadn't made it into the canyons yet, which meant they were spending the night in the bitter cold and the high winds. These three had made a series of delaying tactics, taking roundabouts that took them to the same spot several times, as though they purposefully wanted to overnight in the canyon … and leave the others out of it. Even though these three set him away from their fire, he could feel the warmth wafting over, and they'd had the decency to give him his blanket to help cut the chill. He smiled as he thought of Ezra spending the night in those conditions, though the smile didn't last long. These three had everyone fooled, even Buck, who joined in yesterday in the poker playing for a while, leaving the table happy, up twelve dollars. He only left to go catch a nap before his midnight shift. It was toward the end of his rounds that he came upon the robbery.
'Don't feel guilty, Ez. Weren't your fault,' Buck thought as he hunched down to try to conserve his body heat under his layers.
Vin stepped into the offices of the Clarion newspaper. He'd seen the light on from a distance, and saw the pretty blonde working on her press … at four thirty in the morning.
"Couldn't sleep, either?" he asked.
"No. You shouldn't be walking around," she said, faint accusation in her tone.
"I was up. Saw yer light. It's jest walkin'."
"I have a pot of coffee on. Would you like a cup?" she asked, choosing not to press the man on his injury and how a normal person would handle recuperation from something similar.
"That would be nice, Mary. Thanks."
"I'll be right back," she said with a smile as she brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, leaving a familiar smudge of ink behind.
The tracker looked around the room. Nothing much had changed in the over three years he'd now spent coming and going from this office. The stacked books were different; they always were depending on what the newspaper woman was researching at any given moment. Now that was something that was different: Vin could now read the titles on those books. The thought brought a satisfied grin to the handsome man's face. He looked around some more. There were a few more filing cabinets, but that didn't seem to lessen the stacks of newspapers scattered here and there.
"Here you go," Mary said, handing the hot cup of coffee to her visitor.
"Thanks." He took a tentative sip. 'A little weak,' he thought. "Good," he said. He took another longer drink and then asked, "Hear any more from anyone?"
"Only from Pagosa Springs, but they hadn't heard anything about any trio like our bank robbers … and kidnappers. I hope Buck is all right. And the others," she added. Vin knew that Mary Travis cared for the welfare of all seven of the town's peacekeepers, but he also knew she reserved special concern for Chris. They were now known officially as a couple. It was not unexpected that she would worry for him especially.
"Everything'll be all right," Vin answered, hoping that what he said was not a lie.
Chris lay still as he deciphered the sounds. He remembered that J.D. had the last watch. He hoped the kid was paying attention and not just stewing over Buck out there in the canyons somewhere. He listened more intently and finally realized what he was hearing. Hell. He got up and looked over toward J.D.'s horse.
"J.D.?"
"Moon's bright. It'll be light soon. Wind died down. Coffee's made." The young easterner made no attempt to speak quietly for the sake of those still sleeping.
"Did we not discuss yesterday the canyons and the dangers inherent in traversing them in the darkness?" Ezra grumbled from his bedroll. He did not move from the relative warmth of the cocoon he nestled in.
"I said it'll be light soon," J.D. growled through gritted teeth.
"Shadows are just as bad at dawn as they are at dusk," Nathan said as he sat up and stretched.
"I don't care. I'm goin'. You can come or not." Four Corners' sheriff tightened the cinch on his saddle.
"Just hold on, J.D.," Chris said. "We're comin'," he added as he rose, walked to the fire and poured himself some coffee.
"We are?" Ezra asked, incredulous. He opened his eyes, blinked to adjust to the lack of light, and then added, "We could be jeopardizing Mistah Wilmington's life by flailing about in the dark."
J.D. stormed over to the recumbent card sharp. "You think I'd risk Buck's life?" he asked as he came upon the not-yet-fully awake gambler.
"Damn," Chris said, realizing that he wouldn't make it across the fire in time to prevent J.D. from attacking Ezra, which seemed entirely likely. It was as though J.D. hadn't heard one word Chris said to him over the last day.
"Hell," Nathan muttered as he worked his way out of the tangle of his two blankets. Though it was still quite dark out, the moon shone bright enough to see J.D. reach the target of his ire.
Despite Ezra Standish's aversion to mornings, most especially those that started before five, he was fully attuned to the danger heading his way. Both Chris' and Nathan's one word warnings acted as a clarion call, as did the stomping of J.D.'s boots on the hard packed caliche of the desert floor.
"J.D.!" Chris called. "Stop!" he demanded.
Ezra heard a foot come down, the sound of someone readying to kick. Many mistook the professional poker player for a lightweight. They were fooled into thinking, at least those who hadn't learned better by getting to know him as he made himself comfortable in Four Corners, that his slighter stature meant that he couldn't defend himself, that his fancy clothes and fancy airs meant that he didn't know how to fight. The truth was far different. Those who knew him well knew that he had every skill necessary to win in a fist fight, even against men far larger. That Ezra knew how to fight dirty, and would, and had lightning-fast reflexes, worked in his favor. A good look at his sculpted body, artfully hidden under those layered fancy clothes and something that his friends had seen far too frequently in their efforts to staunch a bleeding wound, would keep many from making a first move against the man.
So Ezra was ready when J.D.'s booted foot flew at his abdomen. He grabbed the foot, leapt to his feet and used all of his might to flip J.D. into the air, pushing the captured leg forward and forcing J.D. hard onto the ground. The young man landed with an 'oomph', the air knocked from his lungs.
The normally genteel southerner stepped off his blanket and grabbed it up in his hands. "He's all yours, Nathan," he said to the man approaching from his right. To Chris, who reached the fighting pair seconds after the former con man won the round, Ezra said, "You should pour yourself some more coffee, Mistah Larabee. In fact, pour us both one." He started arranging his bedroll for travel and then looked into Chris' eyes as the tall blond stopped in front of him and said, "Ah suggest you keep him on a short leash. Ah understand that he is upset, but Ah will defend mah person, no mattah who the attacker. Someone needs to impress upon that boy how his actions could affect our ability to effect Buck's emancipation from those men. Mah only interest is success in that endeavor."
Chris looked to Nathan as he checked out Ezra's winded victim. J.D. seemed to be answering the healer's questions just fine. The former gunslinger looked back to the card sharp.
"I know you did what you had to. He seems to have gone a little crazy over Buck."
"Indeed. And such an excellent reason to attack a fellow lawman." Chris didn't miss that Ezra chose 'lawman' over 'friend' to refer to J.D.
"I didn't say that. He's in the wrong and I'll tell 'im so."
"Very well. Ah will return momentarily," Ezra said as he headed toward Chaucer with his bedroll. Chris walked over to J.D. and Nathan.
"I need you to get yourself together or I need you to head back home," Chris said as he stood over the seated men and locked eyes with J.D. The slightly dazed but still angry man looked toward the gambler, watching as the man set his gear in place. "Don't look at him, look at me." J.D. turned back to Chris, his mouth closed, forming a line across his face, a bitter, nasty look. It was a terrible look. J.D.'s friends and family were not used to such a look, hadn't seen one since the young man had accidentally killed Annie Neuhaus, and at that time it was a tortured, grief-stricken appearance. They were all more used to seeing J.D.'s young face project sweet contentment, satisfaction and pride in his job, and a great deal of love, of late. This look these last hours on that face was all kinds of wrong. "Are you listening to me?" the leader of The Seven asked.
"Yeah."
"Then know this. Buck is my oldest friend. He and I, we have been through more than you can ever imagine. He saved my life. You don't own the only right to be upset and worried. You ain't the only one who wanted to head into that canyon last night instead of making camp."
"Then why … " J.D. started, but Chris was not through.
"But we had to keep a level head about this. We can't give those men a scare and have them start shooting. You know they've got him bound somehow."
"He'd be a sitting duck," Nathan explained.
J.D. gave Ezra a deadly glare as he re-entered the camp.
"J.D.!" Chris demanded.
"What?"
"Ezra is not to blame for this."
"He should o' known. He's the one who says he can read people."
"You know Buck sat in with them at the poker table for over an hour … "
"Nearly two," Ezra interjected. J.D. scowled at the interruption.
"He didn't figure them for bank robbers. I'm thinkin' if he thought there was a problem he might've said something. It's not like Buck not to speak his mind," Chris said as he handed Ezra a cup of coffee.
"Thank you," the southerner said.
"It's not Buck's job to figure out if everyone in town might be a problem," J.D. said.
"But it is Ezra's?" Nathan asked.
"That ain't what I'm sayin'," J.D. insisted.
Ezra took his coffee and walked to the edge of the camp. He stood at the precipice of the long canyon that would lead to the subsequent small canyons, significant shrub and knee-high grass all that truly indicated the dangerous drop-off that existed in this dark light. He listened as Chris and Nathan stood up for him against J.D.'s intransigence. If the situation weren't so serious he would laugh at the boy's hard line in the face of no facts to back it up. His two friends were fighting a losing battle. Until Buck was recovered, safe and sound, J.D. would need someone to blame for his 'big brother' being taken.
As Ezra continued to stare into the blackness, the layers of rock becoming more visible to his eye as his vision adjusted to the dark and murky details below, he spotted something he needed other eyes to verify.
"Gentlemen," he called. They stopped talking. "Come take a look." The three lawmen joined him. "At about two o'clock. Look straight to the horizon, then down."
"A fire," Nathan said.
"Indeed," Ezra agreed. "Because it is dark in these canyons," he added, not hiding his sarcasm as he looked J.D. in the eye.
"Let's close up camp and get moving," Chris ordered. To J.D. he said, "We know where they are. It's worth the risk," as he knew the easterner would question why now it was all right to venture into the canyon now when it wasn't before. To Ezra, Chris said, "Good catch, hawk eye." He patted the gambler on the back. They were on their horses and making their way to the flickering light within minutes.
"No."
"Come on, Tiny."
"I said no and I don't really have time to keep arguing about it."
"Ya can't keep me from takin' my own horse," Vin complained.
"I knew you were stubborn, boy, but this is ridiculous."
"Miss Nettie," the former bounty hunter said. His cheeks pinked up at being caught in the act, acting less than the adult that he was.
"Mornin', Mrs. Wells."
"Good morning, Tiny. Got the wagon right out front," the old rancher said.
"I'll get right to 'em," the liveryman answered. "Junior!" he called. His son came running from the inner corral and into the building through the back entrance.
"Yeah, Pa."
"Let's get goin' on the hoofs for Mrs. Wells' team."
"All right," the tall young man said. "Mornin'," he greeted both Nettie and Vin as he walked by them on his way to take Nettie's wagon out back. The pair wished him well and then Nettie took Vin's arm and aimed him to the restaurant.
"Let an old woman buy you breakfast," she said as they started walking. She knew he would not let her do that. It said a lot about where his head was that Vin did not argue the point.
"I should be out there with 'em."
Nettie stopped walking and turned to the man who had grown so dear to her. Her own sons were far away, living lives of their own. They rarely came to visit. Nettie Wells was a wise, strong, independent and practical woman. Her husband dead and her boys gone, she learned that an adopted family was as precious as any child that she had birthed. The seven men who protected her town had become her sons, most especially Vin and J.D. Casey might be her niece, but Nettie held her to her bosom as the daughter she never had.
"Son, by the time you reached them on a horse you would be needin' all of Mr. Jackson's attention. They don't need that kind o' distraction."
"They were out most o' the day and all night. Chris ain't replied ta any o' the telegraphs Mary sent."
"They're out there trackin' those fellas. They've camped out overnight many dozens of times, I reckon."
"I should be trackin' 'em."
"Figure they'll be all right. Mr. Larabee managed to survive without you all those years before he met you."
Vin looked over to the old woman. He had a grandmother in this tart old rancher. He smiled and said, "'s that so?"
"You know it is, son," she said as she got them walking again.
"There's gonna be a point," Vin said, turning serious, "when I'll have ta go after 'em whether or not I'm fully healed."
"That day ain't today." They continued walking and Nettie added, "They'll be back and they'll be fine."
"I hope yer right."
"I usually am," Nettie said with a smile.
"Well, yer wrong about one thing," Vin said, his smile a little wider, his eyes slits of blue not hiding his mirth.
"Is that so?"
"Yep."
"And what would that be?"
"I'm payin' fer breakfast."
'Now that's more like it,' Nettie thought as they took the step up and into the hotel restaurant.
"Shouldn't we be movin', boys?" Buck asked his captors.
"Shut up."
"Don't make a whole lotta sense waitin' to leave. Got fellas tailing us from town." Nobody answered, even as not nearly surreptitious glances were shared between the three robbers. 'They're actin' funny,' Buck thought to himself. He was pretty sure he knew what was going on now. "If you're thinkin' that you can capture them and get any of us to help you get the rest of the money, well, boys, you ain't done as much investigation as you should have."
"What do you know about the money?"
"Shut up, Jimmy."
"Shut up yourself. I thought we weren't gonna name names out here."
"We're not. It was my mistake." All three men looked toward Buck.
"Don't let me distract you. Keep talkin'."
"Nobody's talking, now keep quiet."
"I assume you're talkin' to your friends. I, for one, am gettin' bored. And there ain't nothin' that takes my mind off my troubles like thinkin' on a good memory. So let me tell you fellas about Lillian and Calliope Phillips, twin sisters." Buck closed his eyes as though remembering their night together. "Whoo-ee." He opened his eyes and looked toward the three men. "You boys ever had twins? Together? Let me tell ya … "
Buck continued his story, despite another 'Shut up' sent his way. It was only one, and the ladies' man didn't take it seriously, anyway. He figured he had two things working in his favor. One, these boys didn't seem the killing kind. Buck figured they were clever, and pretty good actors, but they didn't seem mean or the type that would shoot a man in cold blood. He decided they weren't as clever as they thought they were, though, because they clearly were not prepared to deal with a hostage.
Number two? They thought they were going to get the money they'd planned on, not the paltry amount they currently had in their possession, paltry being a relative term. But in order to get that money, they needed help, and they thought that keeping one lawman would convince the others to do their bidding.
They had no idea what they'd gotten themselves mixed up in.
"One of 'em," Buck continued, "Calliope, was so limber. She was a tough one to keep up with, I tell ya. The other, Lillian, she was more, how should I say … adventurous, if you get my drift," he said as he sent a knowing wink to the three kidnappers. Two of the three men laughed, definitely anxious to hear more. The third man wasn't so amused.
"You need to shut up," he said.
"I will. Just got to get to the good part. This kind o' story ain't the kind you want to miss the ending on. Am I right?" he asked the two who were enjoying Buck's recitation of his exploits with the Phillips sisters.
"Can't think of why we can't let him finish his story," one of them said as he tried to reposition himself in his too-tight leather pants. Buck had turned away to hide his grin as he knew what his story might do to a man in such a get-up.
Buck continued his story, taking his time, embellishing with appropriate detail to keep the two men wanting more, and not giving the other one a chance to verbalize his disagreement.
"Chris," Ezra said softly as he brought Chaucer up beside Pony.
"Yeah."
"These men, they are purposefully waiting for us. They slowed down so as not to lose us."
"Figured they want to catch us off guard."
"Ah believe they will be attempting to use that element of surprise to get themselves back to the bank and get the rest of the money."
"I reckon Buck's doin' what he can to distract. If he's sittin' put with them, he knows there's got to be something up."
"Might Ah suggest one more conversation with young Mistah Dunne about remaining calm and quiet."
"Yeah. Ezra … "
"Not now." Ezra slowed his horse to match the pace of J.D. and Nathan. Before he reached them, Chris called the sheriff up to join him.
"Need you to stay calm. Follow my lead. Do not go off half-cocked when they come into view," the former gunslinger said.
"I know that."
"It's hard to tell lately, J.D." They continued to ride and then Chris said, "Ezra and I figure that they're waitin' on us, figure Buck knows that since they haven't moved on yet." Chris raised his hand and the four men stopped as they knew they weren't far from their goal.
"One of us should go up above," Nathan said.
"You do that, Nate. J.D., you go in on foot once we get close," Chris instructed. "Spot Buck and then get as close as you can to him. Stay quiet. Don't do anything until we make our way into camp," he added, indicating Ezra with a shrug to his left.
"All right."
"You and Ah will ride in as though we are the only two who have come after Buck?" Ezra asked.
"That's right. We'll tell 'em that we know they didn't get as much money as they expected, ask 'em what they want."
"They will ask us to give up our weapons."
"And we will. You'll keep your pea shooter. Nate and J.D., you be ready for the sign to draw your weapons, which will be when Ezra says … "
"You are surrounded. Ah suggest you drop your weapons and give yourselves up," Ezra said.
Chris looked at Ezra. "You can't make that shorter?"
"No."
Nathan smirked. "Sounds like a plan."
"Well, her ability to do both of those things at once was … stimulating, to say the least." The two men laughed, the third found himself smiling as well.
"Larabee and Standish, comin' in," Chris called.
"Hell," the de facto leader of the three men said. Chris and Ezra rode their horses well into the camp.
"Stop. Drop your weapons."
"Gentlemen, Ah must say you fooled me," Ezra said as he began to dismount.
"Toss your gun first, Ezra," the leader of the robbers said.
"Very well, but that will be Mistah Standish to you three, henceforth." Chris and Ezra tossed their handguns and the rifles they had stored on the saddles. The gambler kept his Richards conversion. These men had no idea of his armaments other than the Remington they saw in his holster while at the poker table, and now the rifle.
"All right. Get down." They did as they were told.
"Buck, you all right over there?" Chris asked.
"You know I am, old pard. Been regaling these boys with stories of my exploits with the Phillips sisters."
Ezra laughed out loud and looked to the men he'd played cards with for most of the day yesterday. "Ah can imagine he went into explicit detail," the card sharp said as he stepped up to the fire. "May Ah?" he asked as he picked up a cup. He noticed that only one of the men was holding his weapon as though he was truly ready to use it, and it was pointed right at the southerner's chest.
"Go ahead." Ezra poured himself some coffee and sat opposite the men at the fading fire. He held the cup in his left hand, took a drink, and then set it down beside his left foot.
"Now, what are we to do today? The day before yesterday was pleasant enough, and quite profitable for mahself," Ezra noted. "Ah would prefer no repeat of yesterday or last night, however."
"Need to head back to town and get the rest of the money," the one with the aimed gun said.
"You are not likely aware that the stage was delayed."
"Payroll won't be delayed more than one day. It'll be there today."
"Are you suggestin' that we all head back to Four Corners and then find ourselves a table at the saloon and wait until the three o'clock stage? Ah may well relieve you of some of the funds you absconded with from our bank," Ezra asked sarcastically.
"No. I was thinkin' that maybe just you and me."
Ezra snorted a laugh. "Well, Ah hate to disappoint, and Ah feel certain that you are unaware of this as well, but … you are surrounded. Ah suggest you drop your weapons and give yourselves up." They all heard the distinct sound of three guns being cocked, out of sight, but close enough to know where the weapons were aimed. Two of the men dropped their weapons … just as Buck, and obviously Ezra, figured they would. Ezra withheld pulling his Derringer, waiting to see the reaction. He knew he was fast enough to draw his gun and shoot the man in the hand who continued to point his weapon at the gambler's heart, if he had to.
"You see where I'm pointing this gun, Ezra."
"Do not call me that. Only mah friends call me that."
"We're not friends?" the one with the gun said.
"We are not," the former con man said as he, in a flash, had his gun in his hand. "Drop your weapon."
"Come on, Dave. We're done here. We give the money back and maybe they'll go easy on us."
"You think you'll make it in prison, either one of you?" Dave questioned. He hadn't averted his eyes from staring at Ezra's.
"It's better than being dead."
"He's not going to die," Ezra said, and then he fired his Derringer, shooting the gun out of Dave's hand.
"Fuck!"
"Everybody stay where you are," Chris said as Nathan ran into camp to join them. Chris picked up his Colt from the ground and, with Ezra, now with both his Remington and the Derringer, held the men in place with their weapons aimed appropriately. J.D. headed straight for Buck.
"You all right?" the young man asked as he undid the ropes.
"Sure, kid. How 'bout you?" Buck immediately sensed that something was wrong. He couldn't tell what, but J.D. was as tightly wound as he'd ever seen him.
"I'm fine. I wasn't kidnapped."
"I'm aware of that, kid." J.D. finished with the ropes. Buck rubbed his wrists as he watched J.D. now avoiding looking at him. "J.D., what's wrong?"
"Nothin'. We got you, we got the money. Nobody got hurt, except for one o' them."
Buck frowned. 'What the hell was going on?'
"You need help up?" J.D. asked.
"No." The handsome, mustachioed man got to his feet. He teetered a little, stiff from the long night tied to the tree.
"Buck, you're hurt. Damn it. I knew it," J.D. said angrily as he glowered at Ezra. He reached for Buck's arm to steady him, but Buck wasn't having any of it.
"I'm fine, J.D. I told you that. Now what is that all about?" Buck demanded.
"What?"
"Stop lying to me, kid. What was that look you threw to Ezra?" Buck watched as Nathan treated the hand of the one man while Ezra and Chris tied the hands of the other two.
"Nothing."
"Is that the answer I'll get when I ask Chris, or Nathan? Or Ezra?"
"I don't give a damn what answer they give you," J.D. spat back as he stormed from the area. Buck shook his head and walked over to the main camp.
"Ezra, he been givin' you a hard time?" Buck asked. Ezra lowered his head and then looked back up, that awful fake smile in place, the one that he used when someone had hurt him. Damn.
"Nothing that Ah cannot handle, Buck." The southerner's face softened as his worry for the man he spoke to shone through. "Are you all right?"
Buck smiled his genuine, friendly smile and said, "Nothing that a nice steak with potatoes and gravy and a good drink with good friends won't cure." Ezra smiled wanly. Buck needed to nip that sadness – and guilt? - quickly. "I hope you'll join me for that, as one of my rescuers, and my good friend."
"It would be mah pleasure. Ah believe we can even manage that immediately upon our return, even though it will not yet be the noontime hour when we arrive back home." Buck liked it whenever Ezra called Four Corners home. Whatever mess J.D.'s head was in right now, and whatever damage the kid had caused to his relationship with Ezra, would be his first job to fix, one that he would work on during their ride back. Buck was sensing, from the looks he'd been getting from Chris and Nathan, that what the kid had been saying and doing to Ezra was not good.
"Are we about ready to head home?" Buck asked. "Looking forward to sitting by that nice, new stove and drinking some of the good stuff, watching that pretty lady of Ezra's bring it over to us." Chris and Nathan shook their heads as they watched Ezra's face for a reaction. It was the one they hoped for.
With a smile, the card sharp said, "So long as you look and don't touch."
"You need to talk to him."
It was two days after their return. Ezra, Chris, Nathan and Buck had their steak and potato lunch when they got back to town, after dumping the bank robbers and kidnappers in the jail, and then drank for a good long time, well into the afternoon. J.D. had not joined them. Vin had, as well as a finally returned Josiah.
"Ah will be more than happy to talk to him, Chris," Ezra said as he shuffled his cards. "You realize that he has been making himself scarce."
"Yeah."
"Ah am living mah normal life. Ah patrol, Ah play cards. Ah am with the children. Ah can be found around the town or at the livery grooming … "
"Spoiling."
"Grooming mah horse. J.D. knows where to find me."
"Have you looked for him?" Ezra stopped shuffling and stared at his friend. "I know, you shouldn't have to. But I think you're going to have to."
Ezra sat and shook his head faintly. "Ah … Ah do not believe Ah can." He placed the cards on the table and rubbed his forehead with his right hand as he flexed his left hand from fist to flat on the table to fist again. It wasn't out of nervousness or frustration that he did this. He found that since breaking the hand he needed to work it more to avoid painful and frustrating stiffness. He put his right hand down on the table, both hands now flat on the surface before him. "Ah have accepted that Ah did nothing wrong. Ah have the assurance of all of mah friends that this is true. Ah do not see it as mah job to run to J.D. to beg an apology from him."
"Your friends. You don't see J.D. as a friend?" Chris asked.
Ezra watched his hands. He flexed them both, the best way he had to measure how healed the left hand was, and it was. But it wasn't the same, it probably never would be. But it was good enough. He raised his head to look at Chris. "Should Ah?"
Chris kept steady eye contact with the gambler. He really didn't know the answer to that. He'd tried any number of times since they got back, with both Buck and J.D., to get the kid to talk to Ezra. Buck had talked to J.D. the entire ride home. Something wasn't right. The meeting had not happened. And the distance would grow wider if someone didn't make a move. Ezra had a point, many points, and the question of whether or not the two men could be friends right now was a good one.
"I don't know."
Ezra nodded his head and straightened his cards. He placed them in their box and put them in his vest pocket. He looked at Chris as he rose from his chair. "Ah am tired of … all this. It has been a long several days. Ah am going to retire for the evening." It was early, about nine o'clock. Chris kept watching Ezra, silent question and worry unmistakable to a man as good at reading situations as Ezra Standish. "Yes, part of it is this entire J.D. situation. No, Ah am not sick. Just tired."
"All right."
"You know where to find me if Ah am needed. Hopefully, and considering how dead the saloon is tonight, our little burg will remain quiet at least until morning."
"Sleep well, Ezra," Chris said. Ezra tipped his hat to his friend. He walked to the bar, spoke briefly with Inez. She went to the back and returned with Tommy, her part-time bartender. Chris heard him say that he would take care of closing down the saloon. She said closing early would be fine, it was a slow night. And he watched as Ezra and Inez slowly walked, hand-in-hand, up the stairs.
"Damn," the blond said as he stood. He was the last one in the saloon. "Come lock these doors, Tommy."
"Yes sir, Mr. Larabee." He joined Chris at the door. "Good night."
'Not really,' Chris thought as he tipped his hat to the bartender.
The End.