"Ah am simply here to assure that fairness prevails."
"Kind o' funny."
"What, precisely, do you find amusing?"
"Well, Ez, yer not exactly the first person in town that people would go to to make sher nobody cheats," the tracker – and Ezra Standish's good friend Vin Tanner – offered.
"Is that so? That explains why nearly half of the businesses in town now have me doin' their bookkeeping."
"That's different."
"And how is that different?"
Vin looked to Ezra like a man who had been caught out in a lie. The card sharp knew that the former bounty hunter wasn't actually lying. He knew that, like so many others who found it easy to believe something when it is repeated over and over again, his friend was simply stating what had become the conventional wisdom, to some. Fortunately, that perception of Ezra Standish was changing. The southerner figured it would change a lot faster if his own friends would stop spreading the falsehood.
"Shouldn't ya be lookin' out there if yer here to make sher everyone plays fair?"
"That is a fine job of evading the question, Mistah Tanner." Ezra looked decidedly annoyed with his cohort. "Of course, you are correct." With that statement, he stood up, grabbed the front leg of his chair with his booted right foot, positioned it so that his back was now to Vin, and re-took his seat. He was now able to truly watch the game in progress. He rubbed his knee, pleased that the action he'd just taken had not produced even a small twinge of pain. It had healed well. Now if only his arm would follow suit.
And the game in question? Bowling. The alley was set up in the narrow walkway between Gloria Potter's mercantile and the large garden that provided abundant vegetables, fruit and herbs throughout the growing season, and replenished stocks of dried herbs that would take the two restaurants in town and the saloon well into the winter before they would be forced to rely on older, less fresh seasonings for cooking.
Over the summer, J.D. Dunne read another of Jock Steele's 'books'. The only point of interest in this volume was the discussion of the game, popular in Europe but still not played very much here in the United States, except by wealthy eastern elites. Ezra had taken it upon himself to have his mother, Maude Standish, find out what she could about the game as she visited old friends in Richmond. She sent a telegram nearly two months after his request informing him to keep an eye out for a large package arriving by stagecoach with his answer. He was excited for the news, but the correspondence ending with, 'Have fun. Your loving mother,' had nearly made his heart melt.
"Gentlemen, shall we commence? Have you all put in enough practice?"
"Yeah, Ez. We were just waiting on you and Vin to finish your talk," J.D. said innocently, not in any way aware of what his two friends had been discussing.
"Ah assure you that Mistah Tanner and Ah have in every way concluded our chat." Josiah Sanchez looked behind Ezra to catch a glimpse of the long-haired Texan. He saw guilt in the handsome face. That was something the big former preacher would need to investigate further after the 'match'.
"Good," Buck replied. "You wanna flip a coin, see who goes first?"
"Are you still intendin' to play two against two?" Ezra asked. He had his paperwork all ready for keeping score. It was rudimentary, the score sheet, as was the bowling lane. There was very little grass in the center of Four Corners, and the dirt alley was pock-marked with ruts and was nowhere even enough for the game that Maude described in more detail in the missive she included in the shipment. Since the healer Nathan Jackson had insisted that Ezra keep his arm from anything more strenuous than his exercises for another two weeks, the former con man had plenty of time to work with the owner of the lumber yard just outside of town to get one wooden lane built and installed. Walter Krieger was a happy man to have something so interesting and challenging to put his talent and his fancy equipment to.
"Yep. Me and J.D. against Josiah and Nathan. Where exactly is your partner, 'siah?" Buck asked.
"I'm here, I'm here." The former slave looked at the bowling lane. He'd heard that Ezra had a hand in its creation, he just hoped that it had only been a figurative hand. "Your arm all right?" the healer asked as he saw that the man who always had his little notebook handy to keep track of any betting that he'd instigated had been replaced by one of Mary Travis' clipboards with some of her blank paper stock. A series of rows and columns had been neatly prepared on the top page.
"Ah am fine, Mistah Jackson. Ah will be restin' the clipboard on the arm of the chair or in mah lap, for the most part."
"Good. Make sure you do that."
"Thank you for your concern," Ezra added.
"Seems like these bowling balls would benefit from some holes drilled in 'em," Josiah noted as he gave the ball a serious examination.
"I said the same thing, didn't I, Buck!" J.D. agreed excitedly.
"Yeah, kid, ya did. Said if we put three holes, one for your thumb and one each for yer index and middle or ring finger, it would look just like the spots on Fred's head." The little orange and white dog looked on from the sidelines, unimpressed with the discussion. He walked to the edge of the building and relieved himself, and then he walked up the alley and into the main part of the town.
"Mother said that her contact had been unable to acquire a more current set of pins or balls. Maybe a more … modern version has addressed this obvious deficiency," Ezra noted. The gambler could sense Vin still sitting behind him. It was disconcerting, to say the least, but Ezra refused to allow what had transpired between the two of them to put a damper on the festivities.
"Maybe Walter can put holes in 'em," J.D wondered out loud.
"As we only have two balls, Ah believe it prudent to perform some research to determine the correct distance between the holes before we ask Mistah Krieger to do the work," the card sharp suggested. All of his friends, that he could see, nodded their heads in agreement.
"Who goes first?" the young sheriff asked, happy to leave all that for later and get started with the game.
"We do, J.D.," Buck replied as he picked up one of the bowling balls. "Naturally."
"Naturally? Why's that?" Nathan asked.
"Because we were both here on time and you made us have to wait," the ladies' man answered with a sly grin.
"Why … I … oh, hell, go ahead," Nathan responded, knowing that the argument would be more frustrating than just letting Buck and J.D. go first.
J.D. went first for his team, and miraculously knocked down nine of the ten pins.
"Whoo-ee! Nice shot, kid!" Buck cheered from behind.
"Remembah, gentlemen, if your ball bounces up against either side of the lane, or leaves the lane's perimeter, you forfeit your turn. If you score pins on your first roll but your next one results in one of these aforementioned fouls, you will end up with whatever score you achieved on your first turn."
"Thanks for the reminder, Ez, but I think I got this," J.D. said as he quickly took his position and sent the bowling ball down the lane, headed straight for the last pin. He knocked the pin down with amazing precision.
"Have you played this game before, son?" Josiah asked as he stepped up to go first for his team.
"No, but I saw lawn bowling played once." He didn't need to say more. They were all aware that J.D. and his mother were basically servants to families of Boston's wealthy class.
"I think I need a ball," the preacher said.
"I'll go get 'em. I sent them down there," the energetic easterner said.
"No, J.D. Ah b'lieve we might have ourselves a volunteer to 'track' down the balls and reset the pins. Mistah Tanner?"
Vin knew he had no choice. There was a crowd now gathered to watch. Plus, the assistance might help him fix the feathers he'd ruffled earlier.
"Sher, I'll do it. But I'm takin' my chair. Based on what I just saw, this could be a whole lot o' hurry up and wait."
Ezra watched as the former bounty hunter carried his chair to the end of the lane. It wasn't often that he caught a view of Vin from behind like this. What he saw reminded him about his friend's bad back, and that what he just suggested the tracker volunteer for would likely aggravate it. Maybe he should call Vin back, have the four competitors take turns fetching and setting. Ezra had no desire to endure the wrath of Chris Larabee should his actions be responsible for harming the notorious gunslinger's right hand man.
Just as he looked up to call Vin back, he felt a stone land heavily on the brim of his hat, on the side, tipping the protection from the sun from the con man's head and onto the dusty road.
"Come on, Ezra. Your daydreamin' is delayin' the proceedings," the long-haired Texan called loudly from his seated position at the end of the lane. The assembled crowd laughed, and just that quickly, Ezra didn't feel so guilty anymore.
The game progressed as one might expect with three people who had never seen the game played nor played it themselves. J.D. continued his exceptional pin striking; he was clearly a natural at the game, with a fluid, easy approach and a powerful, controlled follow-through. The same could not be said for his three fellow players. Buck kept Vin busy, his ball flying from the hand-built lane every time he lost control of the ball, something that seemingly coincided with his libido, his concentration thrown each time a pretty girl stopped by to watch the proceedings.
Nathan was the next best bowler of the four, but that wasn't really a compliment. He had great accuracy, but that precision was at the expense of the power necessary to knock more than one or two pins down at each turn. Josiah had the strength but, much like Buck, was persistently throwing the ball off track, and off of the bowling lane. He'd nearly hit Vin twice already. Ezra decided it was time for the tracker to secure himself a safer location to wait out retrieving balls and resetting the pins, but before he had a chance to do that, Robert Merton stepped up to the gambler.
"Mistah Merton, how fair you this fine autumn day?"
"Not so great, Ezra." The former con man could hear the worry, indeed, the near-anguish in the man's voice. All of his attention was taken with learning what was troubling the normally calm, confident man. All seven of the lawmen had come to trust the rancher and enlisted his assistance whenever he was in town as the eighth member of their law enforcement brigade. The card sharp could imagine their moniker changing to The Magnificent Eight due to Robert Merton's fine contributions to protecting the town.
"What is wrong?" Ezra asked, turning all of this attention to the successful cattleman. "Is Missus Merton all right? The children?" The Mertons only had one biological child – Emily – but they had stepped up and taken in the two children after the death of the last undertaker, and veterinarian, Tom Arthur. Tom was beloved in their town and none of the citizens of Four Corners could imagine Tom's children anywhere else now but in the care of Robert and Abigail Merton.
"Could we step away?" Robert asked.
"Of course." Robert helped Ezra up. "Play on, gentlemen," the gambler called to the bowlers. Casey Wells had been watching the gambler keep score, so he handed the clipboard to her. Her eyes grew wide. "You will do fine, mah dear." To his friends he called, please abide by the rules as Miss Casey keeps track of your scores. Ah will return." The rancher and the card sharp stepped away and stopped at the side door of the mercantile.
"The chi … " Robert started, but choked on the word. He cleared his throat, took a breath in an effort to calm himself, and then tried again. "The children are not returning."
Ezra's brown furrowed. "What do you mean, 'not returnin'?"
Robert Merton, the tall, strong, confidant cattle rancher, large and fit for a man approaching fifty – he was, by Ezra's measure, about ten years older than his wife - raised his head to the heavens and then lowered it to the ground, but not before the southerner caught a glimpse of tears in the man's eyes. Robert wiped his eyes, as though attempting to clear dust, and then started talking.
"The judge was working to clear the way for Abby and me to adopt Aaron and Annie. But his people found family, back east. Judge Travis said they wanted my ki … um, they want Aaron and Annie. He said we had to send them to Philadelphia for a visit."
"Wh … When did this happen?" Ezra asked, astounded by what he was hearing. The professional poker player had been forced to keep a low profile in his efforts to heal. Nathan suggested that the adults dissuade the children of the town from their efforts to see the lawman, knowing the children, in spite of being told to remain calm and gentle in their interactions with the healing man, often did not recognize their behavior as in any way threatening. They only knew that when they saw Ezra smile at them the way he did, that they just could not get to his arms, and his lap, fast enough. Accidents happened, and the healer had been brutally honest with the card sharp that he risked full recovery, even the loss of the limb, if it was injured or somehow became infected again before it healed. Ezra hated the restriction, but he agreed once he thought seriously of how his life would change if the worst happened.
"You were laid up. They got on the stagecoach the day Nathan performed that emergency repair on your wing."
Ezra was livid. He thought that if he'd been made aware of these dire circumstances that he might have had a chance to convince Orrin Travis that sending the children away would benefit no one. He was convinced that was so. How could they send these children away to virtual strangers? Tom had told him that they came west because there was no family who meant anything to them. He did not understand.
"But, wh … why could these family," he said, the word tasting bitter to his tongue, "not come here. To force children to travel all that way … alone … "
"They … They weren't. Alone. They hired a nanny and a Pinkerton to escort them back," Robert replied, his response sounding as bitter as Ezra's last words felt.
"So these people have means."
"The woman is Tom's cousin. Second cousin. She's in a wheelchair, can't have children of her own." Ezra understood that Robert knew what that was like. There had been a plan for a household filled with siblings for little Emily. It wasn't to be. "She married well. She sent a long letter explaining that Tom might not have thought of her as an appropriate option to raise his children, and that he was certainly unaware that she was now married."
Ezra rubbed his forehead. He felt a headache coming on. It was obvious that it was too late, that Robert knew that he and Abigail had lost those precious children. He could barely stand the thought of it. He felt ill. Tom Arthur had been a good friend, was a good man and, now much like Tom, those two sweet babies would become just a memory.
"What did Judge Travis say? Ah … Ah mean, you expressed to him that you wished to adopt … "
"He said it doesn't matter. The family wants them. He said he'd had his office work with an investigator. The family is well thought of back east. Said that it's a good family, that they can offer them everything they will ever need," Robert explained.
"And so can you and Missus Merton," Ezra challenged, his anger coming through. He might suggest to Mary that Judge Travis steer clear of Four Corners for a while considering how he was currently feeling about the man.
"We are not family."
"But you love them," the card sharp implored.
"God, we do, but that is apparently not enough." Robert lowered his chin to his chest. "We've lost them."
Ezra knew that what Robert Merton said was true. He could feel the pain of that truth coursing through his body. Ezra felt faint, but he would have to ignore that as he watched this good and strong man bear the devastation of having his new family torn from him.
"Robert, I don't know … what can Ah do? Anything that you need, Ah will do."
"I … I know Nathan doesn't want the kids around you … "
"Robert, if you and Abigail need some time, it would be mah privilege to see to your lovely daughter. She can sleep with Inez, but Emily and Ah will spend time together. It is not Emily that Mistah Jackson worries about." Ezra and Inez Rocillos, still an off again, more on again couple, kept separate rooms, though did not always sleep separately.
"I don't want … "
"Please allow me this. Ah can even help explain to her … "
"Yeah, we were hoping … we've both been meaning to tell her," the rancher said, anxious to take Ezra up on the offer. It was well past time to tell his little girl that the new brother and sister who she had quickly learned to love would not be coming back. "It's so hard."
"Will you and Abigail … " Ezra couldn't finish asking the question, the one he dreaded. Ezra Standish had allowed himself to grow close to so many of these people. Tom Arthur. It had hurt when Tom died. If Robert and Abigail choose not to stay …
"Ezra, we might have to leave Emily here for a while. Abigail … we think that it's important that Annie and Aaron know that this was not what we wanted. We need to know that they are all right, that they are all right with … well, we just need to know."
"Of course. Our little village will take care of your dear child for as long as you need." The card sharp, ever observant, could see that there was something else. "Robert?"
"We're leaving at week's end. Could you, would you speak with Emily today?"
Ezra turned to look at the game in play. They seemed to be having fun. He could see Vin and Buck shooting worried glances his way. He nodded his head, followed by a quick shake. Ezra knew that his friends would read it properly, a sort of sign language to let them know that yes, there was trouble, but no, he did not need their assistance.
"Ah will be at your house within the quarter hour."
"Thank you, Ezra." The two men shook hands, carefully in deference to Ezra's still healing 'wing', and then Robert walked away. Ezra could never have imagined ten minutes ago that he could ever see Robert Merton look as he did. Losing those children seemed to have crushed the man. What little light the con man could see in the man's eyes was due to the love of a good woman and a darling little girl. The shock of what he'd had taken from him would wear off, the pain of losing Tom Arthur's dear children would lessen, and the light would be visible more in the weeks to come. But Ezra knew that Robert and Abigail Merton would never be the same.
"You shouldn't be out here like this, jostlin' that arm," Nathan said softly to his companion. The former slave held the reins and directed the horse in their carriage ride home. Little Emily Merton had fallen asleep, her head surprisingly heavy up against the former con man's chest. Ezra was pleased that the child had been able to sleep, that she felt comfortable enough to do so.
The day had been so hard. Emily's mother and father left on the stage earlier in the afternoon. The girl was old enough to understand why her parents would leave her. Ezra had been very straight with her, and patient as she struggled to an understanding. He kept his promise to explain what had happened, why her mother and father were so upset. That conversation took place three days ago. She'd learned to love her two friends as siblings should and was heartbroken that they would not be returning. And then to learn that her parents would be going to Philadelphia to see them …. Emily cried upon learning this. She wanted to go, too. It was one of the hardest moments in recent memory for the southerner. There was nary a thing he could do to comfort her, other than to simply hold her as she cried out her pain and sorrow.
"Ah know, Nathan. But it seemed the only thing that Ah could think of that would help the poor child. Robert said that watching the calves with their mothahs was one of Miss Emily's favorite things. It, after all of the stress of the last week," he said as he looked down at the sleeping girl, "has finally allowed her some respite. Ah wonder how well she has been sleeping since finding out about her brother and sister, and even before that, with the stress being borne by Robert and Missus Merton."
"I'm not sure falling into an exhausted sleep is the best sleep, but it's good that she's gettin' some. She's lost some weight," Nathan observed.
"Yes. Inez has been doin' her best to get her to eat, but she is only a child." Ezra rubbed his brow and then moved to rub his arm. He stopped, but not before his friend caught the action.
"How do you feel?"
"Nathan, Ah am feelin' sick at heart."
"That's not what I meant."
The card sharp stretched his neck and then his back, making sure not to move too much so as not to wake his young charge. "Ah am tired. Ah am tired of waiting for mah arm to feel even remotely like it once did."
"I know you're frustrated."
"'Frustrated' does not even come close to doin' justice to how Ah feel." Ezra grasped the little girl tightly and gently with his good arm and then asked, "Will it heal properly?"
"Ezra … "
"Ah hold neither you nor anyone else responsible should it not, other than the miscreants who perpetrated the deed that resulted in both of us suffering injury."
"You're tired and you're hurtin', even if you won't say that you are. I feel pretty good that you will heal fine, but doin' things like this? You are pushin' it."
"Ah know, but when Ah look at this precious girl and then think of her needs and compare them with mah own …?" The gambler did not finish, and he knew that he did not have to.
"I know what you mean, but how 'bout we try to stay in town so that we can take care of both of you?"
Ezra smiled and nodded, finishing the action by resting his chin lightly atop Emily Merton's head. "You are a kind and decent man, Nathan Jackson. A good man. Ah hope you know that."
"You don't need to say such things, Ez. I know how you feel. I appreciate that you think that way about me."
"You and our brother lawmen, Inez and so many of our fellow Four Corners citizens have come to mean …." Ezra squeezed Emily tighter, still careful not to wake her. "Well," he continued, "you are mah family. Mah mothah would be disappointed by this turn of circumstances. Of course, knowin' that is precisely why Ah know that Ah am where Ah belong."
"As your friend, I'm happy to hear that, but Ez, your momma lov … " Nathan said, but he was cut off by his cohort.
"Maude Standish loves me, in her own way, and Ah love her, as a son should. But when it comes to right and wrong, in her inability to see the pain, and worse, that she inflicts upon her victims in her cons …. " Ezra paused again, which gave Nathan a chance to jump in.
"Conning is all that she's known for a long time."
Ezra turned to his friend, his face serious when he said, "Ah must disagree. She would be perfectly capable of running any one of the 'businesses' that she has fronted for her cons. You saw how she ran that hotel." Nathan had the decency to blush, knowing his part in the troubles between mother and son during that entire affair. "She has an uncanny ability to master anything she needs to know for her cons. Are you tellin' me that with just a slight adjustment of her moral compass she could not be just as successful as Herr Heidegger with his properties?"
Nathan Jackson was fully aware that his argument did not really compare to the history with and the knowledge of a son for his mother. He could also feel Ezra's pain as his friend recognized that his own mother was never likely to change, no matter how much he hoped for that change. The former slave and stretcher bearer in the war could also see that his friend had been putting up a good and brave front for the child resting in his arms. Ezra was exhausted. Nathan pulled the carriage to a stop.
"What are we doin'?"
"You two should get in the back," Nathan suggested.
"That is not necessary."
"My expert opinion is that you are using your arm too much. If you lean back and relax – in the back – you won't feel pressured into sitting up and holding Miss Emily so tight."
"But we are no more than one hour, give or take, from home," Ezra objected.
"One and a half, because we ain't in no hurry and Mabel doesn't seem too inclined to be rushed."
Ezra smiled at the older work horse. He always requested Mabel, as all of The Seven did, whenever he rented a carriage. She was calm, reliable, strong, and as Nathan had rightly noted, slow.
"Very well," the former con man finally agreed. Within a few minutes, and with Emily Merton hardly noticing, Ezra was comfortably ensconced in the back seat, the troubled girl resting quietly in his lap, with no pressure at all being placed on the injured arm. The late afternoon of early autumn had turned slightly chilly as the sun continued to set earlier with each day that followed the autumnal equinox; the blanket that was regularly stowed in the livery's rental carriages had come in handy.
"Mistah Jackson?" Ezra asked.
"You should be resting, Ez. Wasn't that the point of gettin' you back there?"
"Ah will. Ah just wondered about your arm. You have been blessed with a very quick recovery."
"Ain't no point in worryin' about that. The break on my arm was simple, and I had a right fine medic who took good care of me. I am grateful for what you did. I reckon what you did so well and so early-on saved me from any complications." Ezra saw Nathan's head shake back and forth, and heard the black man sigh. "Your break, and the infection … I am so sorry … "
"Nathan, don't. The book that you loaned me explained well-enough what happened. Ah suppose Ah am simply feelin' somewhat maudlin these days, with mah arm and the Mertons' troubles."
"Annie and Aaron chose people they didn't even know over us, didn't they?" the sad little voice said.
Ezra brushed his hand over her hair. "Go back to sleep, sweet child."
"I don't understand. I don't think I ever will," Emily said with a soft sigh.
"Ssh," the compassionate gentleman from the south soothed. "It will be fine," Ezra added, hoping that it would one day seem so.
As Nathan steered Mabel back into Four Corners, he was greeted at the livery by Chris and Josiah.
"Everything all right?" Chris asked as he watched the healer step down from the driver's seat, noticing the two sleeping figures in the back.
"Guess it's only just all right," the black man said.
"Let's get 'em down. Mary's makin' supper for them," the former preacher said.
"That's good. The more things seem like regular everyday stuff, the better for Emily right now," Nathan said quietly.
"Him, too," Chris suggested.
"Every day is an adventure, Mistah Larabee," Ezra replied with easy sarcasm as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Emily, darlin', it is time to rise."
"I know. But this feels so good." She lifted her head from Ezra's lap.
Chris reached into the carriage for the little girl. "Mrs. Travis is makin' chicken 'n' dumplins, just for you." The tall blond caught Ezra's wry smile. "It's one of my favorites, too," he added. Best not to get caught out in a lie with the children, especially not these children who have been so heavily influence by Ezra Standish. They were very close, once again, to deciding on another choice for a teacher for their growing town, but until then, and until Ezra's most recent injury, fifteen children were now spending a couple of hours a day with Ezra in the new schoolhouse. The man had passed on his tricks of observation to every one of them.
Emily reached over and allowed Chris to lift her out. Josiah gave her hair a gentle pull, and then put his big hand on her tiny shoulder. The kind preacher saw Ezra nod his head in the direction of the Clarion Newspaper – and Mary Travis' home. Josiah got the hint.
"How about I walk you to Mrs. Travis' house. You know Ezra is gonna want to make sure Mabel is taken care of."
"Can I stop and see Inez? I would like to freshen up a little, if that's all right," the little girl said.
"A splendid idea," Ezra said as he sat in the carriage. "Ah, too, would like to remove some of this dust. Shall we meet you there in ten minutes, Miss Emily?"
"That would be fine," she said as she held Josiah's hand. The giant of a man and the petite child headed away from the livery.
"You need a hand down? I thought you said you were all right," Nathan chastised his most frequent patient, save for a couple of the children of the town. 'Man's as accident prone as a six-year-old,' Nathan thought, but immediately regretted it. Too many of Ezra's injuries were from protecting townsfolk, his fellow lawmen. Nathan had lost count of how many times Ezra had intervened and saved the healer from one harm or another.
"Ah am fine, Nathan. Mah leg has become numb from Miss Emily's unfortunately placed elbow." He winced, clearly annoyed at himself more than the little girl, as he rubbed the leg in hopes of getting some feeling there soon.
"Good thing she didn't put it up a little further," Chris joked with a warm laugh.
"Indeed," Ezra agreed, this time with an exaggerated grimace.
"I'll watch his bad arm," Nathan suggested. "You get the other side," he instructed the leader of the now-famous law enforcement group. Together they helped the healing man down with practiced ease.
"You got Buck completely consumed by that damn bowling, Ezra," Chris said.
"Completely?" Nathan asked, his brows arched high.
"That's what I said. Only thing he's interested in is gettin' his patrol out of the way and a good night's sleep. And bowling."
Ezra snorted. "A good night's sleep?"
"Yep. None of his ladies. He's says that they're messin' with his rhythm."
"Ha! Ain't that what he likes?" the healer asked.
"All of the time," Ezra added. He limped over to today's livery boy and gave him a coin. The tall, thin boy's eyes lit up. "Take good care of Mabel for me?" Ezra asked.
"I will. Thanks, Mr. Standish."
"Yeah. It ain't good," Chris said as they started a slow walk to the saloon. Ezra was still limping, and shaking his leg to get the feeling back. Pins and needles had been the result of that activity; he would be back to his normal walk quickly.
"Why?" Nathan and Ezra asked together. They smiled at one another.
"Because he stinks at bowling. J.D.'s been tryin' to help, but you know patience isn't exactly Buck's strong suit." Ezra and Nathan stopped dead in their tracks. Chris took another step or two before realizing that he was walking alone. He stopped and turned to his friends and saw the looks on their faces. "Shut up. Keep walkin' or we'll be late." The southerner and the former slave shared a knowing and healthy laugh.
"We do not have to leave the alley assembled if it is causin' trouble," Ezra noted. He would be disappointed, though, if they had to take it apart.
"Yeah we do. Least 'til the bad weather hits. The town loves it," Chris said. "The one thing that Buck would never do is monopolize the game and not let others play. That's why he's more sure than ever that sex is what's messing up his game." Chris shook his head and laughed at his old friend's antics.
"Well, it would be unfair to remove it simply because Buck is … distracted," Ezra said.
"In a different way than usual," Nathan added. "We never had to ban his 'other' distractions."
"Should have," Chris said under his breath.
"Gentlemen, Ah shall take mah leave and dress appropriately for supper."
"Nate, you might want to get rid o' some o' that dust. You're invited, too," Chris mentioned as he turned toward Mary's.
"I'll be there."
Emily Merton stood on the crate, her hand resting more heavily on Chris' shoulder than on Ezra's. They were enjoying the antics of the bowlers before them. It was another team competition, though the make-up of the teams was quite different than it had been over the last couple of weeks. The card sharp was glad that Gloria's son had taken over the scorekeeping duties, which allowed him more time to tend to the needs of the little girl he had promised Robert and Abigail that he would watch over in their absence. He could tell Emily was distracted from the goings-on in the alley; her head was constantly drawn to the far end of the bowling alley, her little body leaning over Chris to get a better look at the avenue, her little body trembling in anticipation of the stagecoach that was soon to arrive with her parents aboard.
"Emily, dear, you should relax. The stagecoach is nearly always on time," the southerner said warmly. Robert and Abigail were due back from their trip out east. The poor child could not have expressed her excitement any more clearly.
"Hell!"
"Buck!" was heard all around.
"Oops! Sorry, folks. Sorry Miss Emily." It was afternoon and the other children were all in class with Gloria Potter, who was taking her turn covering for Ezra. Emily had been given a pass on school for today, her concentration completely shot as her anticipation of her mother and father's pending arrival took her sole attention.
"That's all right. I've heard worse."
Chris and Ezra, both still seated with Emily's hands on one shoulder each, looked up to the little girl at the same time and asked, "You have?"
"Yes. I've heard some of the cowboys and cattle drivers. Daddy has told them to be more careful. It doesn't bother me. I know it's wrong. I don't say anything because Mommy won't let me go if she knows. Oh." She started blinking as tears developed. "You won't say anything, will you? I know the difference between right and wrong. I would never use those words. Please don't say anything," she finished, her bottom lip quivering as she waited to hear what Ezra and Chris would do. Ezra didn't make her wait long.
"No worries, Miss Emily. We can keep your confidence, right Mistah Larabee?"
'Damn con man', Chris thought. Even though he felt he should at least say something to Robert about his men, he knew what he had to do.
"Sure. We won't say nothin'," Chris agreed.
"'Anything', Mister Chris. 'We won't say anything'," the little girl corrected the formidable gunslinger.
"You're right. I stand corrected." Chris smiled at the precocious and very smart child. The smile faded somewhat as he wondered whether Adam would have grown up similarly outgoing, bright, articulate. He was barely more than a baby when he died. Chris knew his son was intelligent. Adam had so obviously taken after his mother in that sense. That had been easy to see early on as the characteristics of Sarah and he started to show as his boy grew. Chris looked away from Emily and from the action playing out before them on the bowling alley. Ezra spotted the more somber mood quickly in his friend. Just as he was about to say something to bring Chris back from his memories, the sun shone on Chris Larabee's face as a big, toothy smile formed … as Billy Travis was heard calling his favorite person's name and kicking up a cloud of dust as he made his way ahead of his mother – and Judge Travis.
"Hey, Chris!"
"Hi Billy," the puddle of mush formerly known as a notorious gunslinger said happily as he lifted young Billy Travis high in the air. At the same time, as Chris elicited a giggle out of the little blond boy, he turned to Ezra and said, "Behave."
The con man reacted as expected, taken aback by the warning. "Moi?" he asked, followed by, "Ah had not heard that the judge was here."
"That's 'cause we were keepin' it from ya. Didn't want ta have ta arrest ya or nothin'," Vin Tanner said as he walked up behind the men, Emily and Billy.
As Emily and Billy said their hellos, Chris leaned down to the card sharp and said quietly so as not to alarm the children, "Do not shoot him."
"Ah would do nothing presently to dampen the Mertons' reunion."
Chris Larabee was no dummy. He knew that the response from his friend held no promises that he wouldn't do just exactly that, just not right now. Ezra was always precise with this language, except for when he purposefully was not.
"Chris. Standish," Judge Orrin Travis said in greeting. Mary stepped up beside the tall blond.
"Emily, you must be so excited," she said.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Grampa had work here so he let me come back with him. The coach was late yesterday." Emily looked to Ezra with worry. Billy missed that and continued. "Where are Annie and Aaron?"
Little Emily Merton burst into tears at the question, throwing her face down to Ezra's chest. The con man grabbed her with his good arm and eased her into his lap. His chair tipped backwards, only stopped from taking Ezra and Emily to the ground by Chris and Vin's quick reflexes.
"What?" Billy started. He stopped quickly as he realized he must have said something wrong. Fat tears pooled in his eyes as he looked over to his mother. Chris set the boy down and Billy rushed to the comfort of his mother's embrace. Mary watched as Emily sobbed, Ezra seethed, and Billy cried into her skirt for no reason that he truly understood.
"Orrin," Mary started.
"Yes, Mary. I … " he began, but was cut off by the sound of the stagecoach's arrival.
"Miss Emily," Ezra said compassionately as he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. "You do not want your mothah and fathah to see you like this. Let us wipe away these tears," which he did. "Blow your nose," which she did. He wadded the messy part into the center of a ball and placed the used handkerchief in his pocket. Vin laughed lightly at that. Ezra ignored the snort from his friend and said, "Let's go welcome them home."
"All … right," the distraught girl said, a big, sad sob separating the two words. Ezra took his thumb and wiped away the new tears.
"Shall we go?"
Emily stood away to allow Ezra to rise. "Yes," she said as she took his hand and they walked toward the stage's stop in front of the hotel.
"Ezra," Orrin said.
"No. Ah cannot … " the former con man said, his green eyes filled with loathing for what Travis had failed to do: save a family. "No." The gambler took the girl by her tiny hand and walked away.
"Orrin," Mary said, "you can't … "
"He won't listen. I can't blame him," the old judge said.
Chris watched the exchange. Something wasn't right.
"What's goin' on?" he asked. He was met by Judge Travis' dour visage; Mary's was full of compassion and worry. They both followed Ezra down the alley, Billy holding his mother's hand and looking scared and confused.
Chris turned to Vin. "Stay here. Make sure Buck gives some other people a chance."
"He's kind o' obsessed."
"Yeah."
"Daddy!"
Emily Merton's shriek was likely heard across the valley to Nettie Wells' place. Ezra did not let go of her hand until he'd checked up and down the avenue – twice – for any danger. He finally let her go, and by the time she reached the coach, her mother had also stepped from the horse-drawn conveyance. The Mertons enveloped their little girl. Ezra watched with mixed emotions from across the main road. He was so happy for Emily; the little girl needed to be with her mommy and daddy again, she needed the comfort of those arms around her. But he was so sad for what might have been. He shook his head and then turned to walk over to the saloon. He could use some comforting of his own right about now, as well as a good, stiff drink. Maybe Inez could take some time …. He heard Emily screech again. He was happy for her. And she was young. Hopefully the loss of her new brother and sister would be something that would not leave too much of a scar. He refused to turn around. He did not want to see this, to watch Robert and Abigail put on fake smiles for their daughter in order to hide the despair they felt at leaving two children so far away. It might as well be a world away. The more of Emily's joyful sounds that he heard, the worse he felt for Robert and Abigail. And Annie and Aaron. He was in no mood right now and he did not want to be the cause of any negativity for that family.
He was nearly at the saloon when he heard 'Mister Ezra' called from down the avenue. He stopped and closed his eyes. What could he do? He turned around and looked to where he'd witnessed the family reunion. He plastered on a smile, it was something he had vast experience doing. His mother had taught him well, though his good friends had all learned to see through the façade. He blinked as he looked again at the area toward the back of the coach. What he saw could not be. Maybe he had developed a fever while not paying attention these last days. He had been consumed with making sure Emily had every need met while her parents were away. But it couldn't be a fever; Nathan had been omnipresent since the scare with the infection in his arm. If Ezra was sick, Nathan would have been the first to know it, Ezra only second. He started to walk toward the hallucination, the mirage, but the walk soon became a run as the gambler realized what he was seeing. He felt a slight twinge in the knee, but not enough of one to slow him down, which was proof enough that the appendage was healing well. Just as he reached his destination, a familiar voice called out.
"Ezra! Slow down!"
The southerner slowed his pace and turned to the voice. He saw Nathan with the widest smile he could ever remember seeing on the man, save for whenever the topic of conversation was Rain. The healer joined him and they walked briskly forward.
"Easy, kids. Ezra's still healing," Chris reminded.
The fancily dressed man no longer appeared shocked by the kind words coming from Chris Larabee. They were friends, he knew that now. More than friends.
As Ezra reached his destination, he kneeled in the dusty road before Emily … and Aaron and Annie.
"Good lord, you children are a sight for sore eyes," he said as the three children each waited their turn for a one-armed hug. The Aaron and Annie kissed him and hugged him like they had been apart for longer than three tortuously long weeks.
"Children, let's let Ezra get over to that bench where we can all be more comfortable," Abigail Merton said as she smiled warmly at the man that here children loved like a second father, or a most beloved uncle. Annie took Ezra's good hand and 'pulled' him up, and Aaron and Emily rushed to the seat to make sure they had a good spot. Ezra looked up to a smiling Robert Merton.
"What? How?" was all Ezra was able to say.
"It's a long story. Let's finish this first," the rancher said as he nodded toward the bench on the covered boardwalk of the stagecoach office.
"Are your eyes hurting, Mister Ezra?" Emily asked.
They had been, so many times over these last weeks. Tears and dust were a bad combination. Yes, his eyes had been sore, but in not at all equal measure with the pain in his heart.
"Not anymore, mah darling child," he answered as he sat, allowing Annie to crawl into his lap. Aaron sat close as Ezra placed his good arm across the boy's bony shoulders. Emily, as carefully as though she were holding a newborn kitten, grasped the hand of Ezra's bad arm and held it lightly.
"Not anymore."
Judge Travis knocked on Ezra Standish's door. Robert had spent a few minutes with Ezra as Annie and Aaron were reacquainted with their friends. He told him that he found Annie and Aaron miserable when he arrived at Annabelle Arthur Dumont's home outside of Philadelphia. What he found were two very depressed children. He questioned them and found that, though they were living in a grand home, with large bedrooms of their own, wore the best clothes and were being fed well, neither child had actually had much of an appetite. They had lost weight … they missed their family. Aaron had tried to explain to their dead father's cousin that they were happy with Robert and Abigail, that with Emily they felt like a family. The children said that Mrs. Dumont had been sympathetic, but said that they would soon find that this house would be like home, that they would make new friends. She said that Tom would have wanted them to be with blood family, but Annie and Aaron had been adamant when Robert spoke with them as Abigail sat downstairs with Annabelle and her new husband: they wanted to come home to Four Corners. They wanted to share the big room they shared with Emily. They wanted to see Billy Travis and Gloria Potter's children and Ezra and everyone else that they missed terribly. They hadn't been in Four Corners for all that long, somewhat less than a year, but they lived there long enough to know that there were people there that they loved and missed.
And then Robert said that Ezra should talk to Orrin Travis to get the rest of the story. Ezra excused himself at that point to go to his room. He needed time to think. But before he even had a chance to remove his jacket and sit himself down, the knock interrupted his thoughts. He waited, hoping that whoever it was - knowing that it was Travis - would go away. But another series of knocks came, followed by Travis' voice.
"Ezra, could I speak with you?"
The gambler sighed, removed his jacket, tossing it carefully on the foot of the bed, walked to the door and opened it. "Ah understand you were involved in some way in making the Merton family whole again?"
Judge Travis looked the former con man in the eye. "It's not as simple as I am sure Robert made it sound. My role was minimal."
"Robert suggested nothing other than Ah should hear the story from you."
"Can I come in?"
"Certainly." Ezra held the door open wide to allow the older man into his room. "Can Ah pour you a drink?" he asked as he headed to the bureau. He immediately poured one for himself. He looked to the judge.
"Yes, I could use one." Ezra poured more of his special Kentucky bourbon into a second glass and handed it to the man who had hired him over three years before. "Thanks."
"Take a seat," Ezra said and he indicated his rocking chair. He took a seat on his bed, sitting straight-backed and alert. "Ah must start with a thank you for whatever your role was in gettin' Annie and Aaron back."
"I heard I'm lucky that I'm not perforated with one of your bullets," Travis noted.
"Yes, well, Ah am certain that the presence of your grandson, and Mary and the rest of the town would have dimmed mah appetite for such revenge, though Ah admit that if a runaway horse had been headin' for you Ah would have been the least likely to intervene." Ezra took a good swallow from his glass and then asked, "Why … ?" He shook his head and said, "Please, tell me."
Orrin took a swig of his own drink. "That is a fine bourbon." He looked the gambler in the eyes and said, "I rushed to judgment. With Mary and Billy, after Stephen died, I thought it best that my grandson be with his mother. She insisted on sending him to his grandmother and me. But I saw how much that hurt Billy. He'd lost his father and his mother didn't want him, at least that was how he seemed to feel about it. We, Evie and me, we kept telling him that it was just that his mother needed time. I think that period made him question everything. You saw his reaction when Emily started to cry. He is still skittish, very much his mother's baby boy even as he readies to turn seven." Ezra's eyes widened, telling the judge that maybe it was still all right for Billy to react that way. "I know, parents all have different expectations of their children. I have decided to stay out of the rearing of my grandchild. Mary is the person who will need to deal with any ramifications should the boy not grow up fast enough. This is still a hard place to live. I want my grandson to be able to handle himself."
"Judge Travis, your grandson has an entire town that is willin' to help Mary raise him. He has the regular influence of Chris Larabee, who is not exactly a featherweight when it comes to … "
"I understand all of that, Ezra, though sometimes when I see Chris with Billy I feel that even he handles the boy as though he might break."
Ezra nodded. "Ah sincerely doubt he ever raises Billy in his arms without thinking of his own lost child. It must be very hard for him."
"I know. Anyway, when I read through the investigator's report, I saw a family in Philadelphia who seemed genuinely to want only the best for those children. Once Robert arrived and spoke with them after they had been in the Dumonts' care for nearly a week, he made it clear how unhappy they were. Children who were being shown enough love, even after such a short amount of time, would have seemed more settled, happier with all that a family like the Dumonts could provide. Once I heard this report, it made me look differently at my own situation with my own grandson, at how having a loving mother, and other love in his life," he said, staring directly at Ezra, making it clear without really saying it that he meant the former con man he sat across as part of that circle of love, "really did make all the difference." Travis looked away, took another sip of the fine liquor and then looked back to Ezra. "I was wrong."
"You were," Ezra agreed.
"Yes. So, I contacted a colleague in Washington and asked for him to intervene, to find out what precisely was going on. I told Robert and Abigail to stay away for a couple of days while that investigation continued. Judge Thompson arranged a meeting with all parties. All he needed was to see the children's reaction when they were allowed into the room to know what grouping made up the true family. The Dumonts are good people, and they realized, too, that the children had been taken away from people who had already made them their own. They readily agreed that letting them return here was the right thing." The judge looked miserable as he told his story, his initial decision wearing the old man down.
"Judge Travis, you said earlier that your role was minimal in getting this family back together, but you must realize that without you it would never have happened."
"It shouldn't have had to," the judge replied angrily.
"No. But might I suggest that we both release ourselves of our anger on this topic, considering the outcome?" Ezra stood and took a step toward Orrin Travis, his hand held out. Orrin stood up and said, "Which arm is hurt?"
"It is mah right, but Ah am healin' well now." The men shook hands. Ezra could tell that the old man was going easy on him.
"Would you like to have supper?" Travis asked.
"Should we go downstairs to prove to everyone that we have come to an accommodation?"
"You mean you want to show your friends that you didn't shoot me?" Orrin said with his trademark wry grin. It wasn't seen often. Ezra was happy to see it this day.
"That as well," Ezra said with a twinkle in his green eyes. He grabbed his jacket and the two men headed downstairs.
"I understand you are to blame for the distraction going on down the alley."
"Good lord, Judge Travis, what on earth was Ah thinkin'?"
"That ain't right."
"Some people are just better at the game than others," J.D. said
"Yeah, but, look at that technique," Buck complained.
"She's seven years old, Bucklin," Vin said with a laugh.
"But … "
"But what, Buck?" Chris asked.
"Well, she's, you know, shootin' like a girl."
"She is a girl," J.D. said, shoving his shoulder up against his best friend's shoulder.
"That's not exactly the problem, is it?" Josiah asked.
"Just what are you tryin' ta say, 'siah?" Buck challenged.
"He's sayin' you're jealous 'cause she could whoop your … um … uh, you," Nathan said, realizing he had to be careful of sensitive ears as he stepped up to the playing area. Following the healer fairly far behind was Ezra, who had the two newest Merton children on either side, each of them holding one of the gambler's hands. Robert and Abigail followed behind, smiling as their children following Ezra everywhere he went, listening attentively to everything he said. The couple walked along with Inez to the bowling alley. They all stopped as they saw just exactly who was playing.
Ezra laughed out loud as Emily Merton threw a strike.
"It ain't funny, Ez," Buck said.
"Ah hate to tell you this, Mistah Wilmington, but Ah fear you are the only one who does not find your reaction humorous."
"Mister Ezra!" Emily called excitedly, dropping the bowling ball on Buck's foot as she ran to her favorite person, outside of her family.
"D … D … Darn, that hurts," Buck eked out through gritted teeth, just barely getting the word out that was not his first choice, and probably wasn't really his second or third.
"Miss Emily, you must be careful with the bowling ball," Ezra said. Emily turned and saw Buck holding on to J.D.'s shoulder as he rubbed his toe through his boot.
"Oops, sorry Mister Buck."
"That's all right, darlin'," the ladies' man said, still wincing.
Ezra looked back and forth as Robert, Abigail and Inez finally joined them. "Who, exactly, is playin' right now?"
"One-on-one, Buck and Miss Emily," Josiah informed the new members of the crowd.
"Buck is playing against a child?" Robert said with a hardly veiled snort of laughter. "And that child is Emily?" he added with a broad, proud smile.
"Daddy, Mister Buck says that I throw the ball like a girl. I mean, I am a girl, but I don't think he was saying it like it was a compliment," the not-so-innocent child said.
Everyone laughed at Buck's expense. Ezra said, "No, it wasn't a compliment. But Ah assume he sought you out to play the game?" Emily nodded her head yes. "There, mah dear, is the compliment."
"Excuse me, but I believe it is Miss Emily's turn," Buck said as he limped over to Ezra and the little girl … and her family. "Robert," the lean gunman said as he greeted the father of the child that he had challenged. "Mrs. Merton."
"Buck," they both said as they attempted to retain serious expressions. They knew an awful lot more of Emily's skills with a bowling ball than apparently Buck had been made aware of.
"Miss Emily, Ah understand from your brother and sister that you have been practicing your bowling, that Mistah Dunne has given you some lessons on how to keep the ball heading down the center of the lane?"
Buck looked up from studying his boot. "What?"
"Yes, Mister Ezra. J.D. says that I have a natural … what was the word?" she asked the young sheriff.
"Affinity," J.D. replied.
"Affinity? J.D. said you have an affinity?" Buck asked as he looked suspiciously over to Ezra. Ezra shrugged his shoulders innocently.
"Yes. He said that I had to remember to keep my upper body straight and I needed to remember counter balance."
"He did, did he?" Buck said accusingly to his friend.
"Yep. Same thing I told you," J.D. said with a smile.
"And what else did Mistah Dunne tell you?" Ezra asked as Annie wrapped her arms around his leg. Aaron walked over to Chris and Billy Travis.
Emily looked up, her face straining with the effort to remember all of the special instructions that she'd received from J.D. over the last week. The weather was quickly turning and the alley would need to be disassembled before October was through. Emily had asked Ezra about playing the game, and Ezra had worked with J.D. to get the little girl, who really and truly possessed all of the skills and desire to be the best bowler in Four Corners, to get her the instruction and practice she needed. And then J.D. set Buck up, knowing that if he presented his observations of Emily's abilities just the right way, that he'd be able to get Buck Wilmington to challenge a little girl.
And then they could all stand back and watch him get whooped-but-good by her.
"Well, I need to keep my thumb relaxed," she said. The lumber mill owner had been more than happy to fashion a small bowling ball for the children that was not too heavy and had the finger holes properly set. Yes, it was an advantage that Buck did not have with the older balls that Maude had been able to find for them. Walter Krieger would work the holes into the adult-sized bowling balls over the winter, and try his hand making one completely on his own.
"Anything else, sweetie?" Abigail asked.
"Well, I had to practice where I start and where I end up on the lane. The closer I am to the foul line, the better chance I have of my ball hitting the pins. And there's getting the 'English' right."
"English?" Buck said loudly. He looked to Ezra again, and then to J.D. And then he looked at his other friends, one after the other, and all he saw were men who knew something that he didn't, though the longer he stood there, the more he realized that he should know that he was being played. Except that he really wasn't. All of the techniques that Emily described were the same ones that J.D. had tried to impress upon him over the weeks since Maude Standish had sent the components of the game to them. He was going to have to face facts: a seven-year-old was going to beat his socks off.
"I'm really far ahead of you already, Mister Buck. Do you wish to concede?" Emily asked innocently, sympathetically. Chris and Vin both snickered, not even attempting to hide their mirth. Josiah, Nathan and J.D. were all just smiles.
"Concede?" Buck looked over to Ezra again, but the former con man had his head down, the brim of his hat hiding any chance at seeing his face. Buck could see the man's shoulders shaking up and down.
"I do not wish to concede."
Ezra grabbed Inez's hand and pulled her close. He leaned over and whispered to her. She smiled and nodded her head. Ezra extricated himself from Annie, leaving the girl between her mother and father, and he and Inez walked away from the bowling game.
"Where are they going?" Buck asked.
The adults laughed and shook their heads.
The End.