"Hold it higher, Ezra."
"Josiah," Ezra replied wearily and with a decided guilt-tinged exasperation. "Ah am doin' … " he took a moment to try to blow away the drop of sweat he could sense hanging from his eyebrow before it fell to sting his eye as so many drops had previously, "mah utmost."
"Know ya are, Ez," Vin said, more fear than anything else evident in each word he spoke.
"I need it higher if we're going to get ya out, Vin," Josiah explained.
The former preacher Josiah Sanchez, the gambler and former con man Ezra Standish, and the tracker and former buffalo and bounty hunter Vin Tanner had been sent out to the mine by the leader of the lawmen of Four Corners, Chris Larabee, to confirm that it was no longer safe to keep the entrance clear for people to make their way inside. One man had been found dead well beyond the second chamber of the tunnel. The cause of death: a fallen support beam. The body had been found by three youths who had gone on an afternoon hunt with the hopes of finding nuggets of gold. The morbid discovery of a rank and chewed-upon corpse had been the impetus for several families to file complaints, demanding that something be done. Though it really was not something that fell within the purview of their jobs, the men now known as The Magnificent Seven had agreed that, with the lack of any other authority in town to take action, it was indeed, as Ezra Standish deemed it, none too kindly, better to err on the side of safety in light of rampant stupidity. The signs had been posted months earlier, a temporary though clearly not impenetrable barrier had been set up, yet recent signs continued to be found of people spending time in the dangerously unstable spent mine.
Josiah, Ezra and Vin were doing a final check when they heard a sound from outside the mine of a not-too-distant explosion. The rumble of rock grating on rock precipitated by just seconds the large timber that came crashing down, heading directly for Vin's head. Ezra watched, horrified by the thought that Vin would be killed if hit head-on. With only one thought left to him, he barreled into his friend, hitting him hard with his left shoulder. Rock continued to shower down on the men, the reverberations continuing as clouds of dust blinded and nearly smothered them.
Ezra Standish had never known a feeling such as this, that urge to protect someone other than himself, not until he had made the acquaintance of these men in Four Corners. He had no idea, back then, when he'd joined with six strangers to help a small Indian village that this would be the result. But now, for the second time over the course of the last few months, he had placed his life in danger to save another. Oh, how Maude Standish would bemoan what had become of her son.
Within mere moments, the billowing dirt, falling rock and massive timbers seemed to have finished their dance; it was simply a matter of time – or another similar blast - before the entire cavity fell in on itself. The mine was terribly unstable; their prime mission on this day had been to catalogue what needed to be done, both inside, if anything, and out, to seal it for good. In just seconds their prime mission had changed dramatically, to one of simple survival.
With the dust settled and breathing without choking again a possibility, the men had been relieved to recognize the groans and coughs echoing about.
"Ezra? Josiah?" Vin asked through a dust-scratched throat.
"Here, Vin," Josiah responded, followed by a groan of pain.
"Are ya all right?" Vin asked.
"Yeah. The Lord has seen fit to spare my life, just not my leg." He suffered a quick cough before continuing. "Big rock hit my thigh and knee. Hurts like hell," a grunt, the sound of a boot brushing the rocky, dirt-covered floor of the cave, a gasp and then a thud was followed by, "Can't put weight on it."
"Just stay sittin' fer now," Vin ordered. "Give it some time. Ezra?" he called again. No response had Josiah turning around.
"Shit. Ezra," the preacher said as he crawled to the gambler who lay face down just steps away. Josiah knew the fastidious man had to be unconscious to allow his face to be planted in the dirt like that.
"What's wrong?" Vin asked.
"Ez's down. Could use your help," Josiah called.
"Can't. I'm pinned by … somethin'," he said. "Think it's one o' them support beams."
Josiah looked to Vin finally. "You hurt?"
"My arm's bruised and bleedin', but I think I'm all right. Just pinned tight across my belly. Can't get any strength from this position to lift it off." Vin was laying on his back and couldn't get a look behind him at Josiah or Ezra. "How's Ezra?"
"You sure you're not hurt where that beam got you?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. How's Ezra?" Vin insisted.
Josiah reached the gambler. "Ezra?" he asked. They were fortunate that there hadn't been a full cave-in. Aside from the obvious point that they would likely be dead if there had been, there was still good daylight streaming in from the entrance. But what Josiah saw with the aid of that good light made him wince: blood at Ezra's right ear up to his hairline and down along his neck, his left arm lying limp and at an altogether wrong angle alongside his body.
"Josiah?" Vin asked apprehensively.
"Just a minute, Vin." Josiah scooted closer and placed his hand firmly on Ezra's right shoulder and shook it lightly as he demanded loudly, "Ezra! Need ya ta wake up."
A groan from the prone man was followed by the sweetest sound the preacher had ever heard from the southerner's lilting voice. "Why am ah tastin' dirt?" followed by, "Ppffft," and then, "Oh, mah head." The small enclosure echoed with the sighs of relief of the other two men. Ezra started to move and then felt the full impact of how much of a bad idea it had been to try. "Good Lord," he moaned.
"Just stay put until I can look you over," Josiah ordered. "Can you tell me where you hurt?"
"Ev'rywhere," the con man complained.
"I can imagine." Josiah felt near the blood on Ezra's head and ordered, "Hold still," as the smaller man tried to squirm away from the touch. But leaning left only reminded the injured lawman with the fancy red coat that he had, once more, managed a separated shoulder.
"Mistah Sanchez," he said as he spit dirt out of his mouth. "Could ah trouble you to assist me up off of this ground? Ah have little doubt that ah have consumed mah full allotment of minerals for one day."
"I can try," Josiah responded. Ezra, despite the pain in his head and shoulder, noticed that his friend had not tried to stand, only scooted closer, dragging his left leg.
"Josiah, are you injured?"
"Got hit by a couple of rocks, square on my leg."
"Wonderful," Ezra noted dryly, followed by a dry, hacking cough. "Two of us injured … " he started to say when he suddenly realized he hadn't heard from the third member of their party. "Vin?" he asked worriedly as he tried to rise and look around. The effort was costly as the pain spiked in his arm and his head, and the floor – or what he took for the floor from his blurry, faded vision – of the mine seemed to start spinning as though it was going to swallow him up. He moaned piteously and managed to get himself up on his right elbow so that when he started to vomit, his face wasn't resting in it when he finished.
"Ezra?" Vin asked. "I'm fine," the tracker called, but the sounds of retching and Josiah's soothing tones drowned him out. Vin could hear the shuffling of bodies in the dirt and then just heavy breathing. "Ezra, you all right?"
Ezra breathed in a few more times and then said, "Mistah Tanner. Ah am relieved to hear that you are still among the living."
"Right back atcha, Ez," the Texan drawled in relief.
"Barely," Ezra bandied back. "Mah apologies for the mess in these confined quarters." Soft mentions of 'Not necessary' and 'Don't go worryin' on that' were followed by a period of quiet from all three men. Ezra kept breathing as though attempting to fend off more nausea. Josiah's quiet contemplation was accompanied by a reassuring pat of the hand on Ezra's leg. Vin kept quiet, confident that it was just a matter of time before his friends figured out a way to free him from the solid piece of wood that pinned him, not a little bit fretfully, as the walls seemed to close in around him. Ezra spoke into the quiet.
"Josiah, ah take it that Vin is somehow encumbered by pieces of this chamber?"
Josiah frowned. He had set his friend up against a wall facing Vin, once Ezra had finished the bout of sickness. It was still light enough to see, so why was Ezra not seeing what was wrong?
"Ezra," the preacher started, "how many fingers do you see?" he asked as he placed three fingers up in front of the normally highly observant member of their group.
A derisive snort was heard before Ezra answered. "Mistah Sanchez, please, you are no fool, nor, if I might say without conceit, am ah. Ah can see your blurry though familiar visage out of mah left eye. Mah right eye seems rather willful and, at this time, unwillin' to cooperate." He raised his hand to the injury above his ear, but Josiah pulled the hand down, not wanting the man to have to feel the bloody mess or worsen the injury, but far more worried that the man had made no real effort at all to try to hide his visual impairment, a particularly un-Ezra like action.
"Sit still." Ezra made no further attempt to move. Josiah found his canteen and pulled a handkerchief from the gambler's inside coat pocket. He dampened the cloth and proceeded, through Ezra's silent pain, to clean the wound. With the dried and oozing blood removed, Josiah could see how much deeper and how high up and near the right eye the gash was. The look on his face gave him away, even through the vision of one blurry eye yet still-keen senses of Ezra Standish.
"It is not surprisin' that you never win at poker, Josiah."
"Maybe. But you knew it was bad when you failed to mention that you couldn't see straight."
"Touché," Ezra countered. "Now, as there is very little to be done about it for now, ah suggest we emancipate Mistah Tanner and, as Buck might say, 'Get the hell outta Dodge.'"
"Sounds like a good idea," Josiah agreed. They both heard Vin take a huge, relieved breath.
Ezra gave a final heave, pushing with all his might, levering the wood beam up with his right shoulder. Josiah, who was still unable to put any weight on his leg, held fast to Vin under both arms, ready to drag the lithe Texan out as soon as the wood cleared his waist. Ezra had lifted twice already but hadn't managed to maneuver into a proper, solid hold, and Josiah's traction had been hampered by his injured leg. But this time – the third time – had been the charm. Ezra had forced the wood up, this time using his strong legs to get to a standing position. It was plenty of clearance, and Vin hardly needed Josiah's help as he scampered out from under the giant log.
"You can let her go, Ezra," Josiah called. The gambler held fast, his entire body trembling with the effort. "Ezra, drop the wood," Josiah ordered. Vin turned around and recognized the problem.
"He can't, Josiah." Vin jumped up, holding his sore right arm with his left. "Ez," he said, bending slightly to look the southerner in the eye. "Let it go. I'm out."
Ezra's eyes were glazed with pain. And the Herculean effort of holding the beam was going to end badly if he didn't release it of his own accord. Ezra saw the blurry image of his compatriot out of his one functioning eye. "Vin?" he asked.
"Yep, it's me. Now let the beam go," he said softly. Ezra still held on. Vin was moved by the determination, and impressed with the strength of his friend. It was common knowledge that Ezra, hard and work were three words that rarely made it into the same sentence. But Vin knew that what Ezra projected to those around him – a decided lack of interest in helping others, an aversion to 'menial' labor, something that once Vin understood the meaning of the word helped him understand what Ezra had meant by it that time he said it at Nettie's place – was far from the truth. Not only was he far more generous and caring than he would allow people to know … now, but it was pretty clear that the man was doing something that involved hard work to exhibit the muscles that he did. Vin would never deny that his friend preferred to use his brain over his brawn. That he still managed to hold the beam showed his grit, and that he cared deeply for his friends, the dire needs of the present situation giving him an extra push, despite his own serious injuries. Unfortunately, it seemed the man was going to require a push the other way now.
"Ezra, I'm gonna knock that wood down," Vin warned. "You ready?" Glassy green eyes, full of worry and pain, looked back, though how much they actually saw Vin could not say. The quiet Texan reached and quickly shoved the beam, wincing at the pain in his injured arm. The end result was worth it as Ezra released his hold and stepped towards Vin, folding forward and into the tracker. They held each other up until the pain took over and the con man headed to the ground. Vin eased him down and said, "Thanks, pard," into Ezra's ear.
"Mah pleasure, Mistah Tanner."
"Well, I doubt that. That had to hurt."
"Everythin' hurts … right now, Vin," Ezra admitted softly. He sat up but leaned heavily against Vin's side. "Ah assure you, gettin' you out … safe was worth … the effort," he panted as he tried to regain his breath after his exertion.
"I say we take a few moments to rest," Josiah added to the conversation, "and then make our way out of this would-be crypt."
"A finer idea … ah shall … not hear … today," Ezra complimented somewhat muzzily.
Each man took a drink from Josiah's canteen and then Vin asked, "You seein' any better, Ezra?" He hated that the man had to work so hard to free him; Ezra was in no condition to be exerting that kind of effort.
"Ah … Ah don't know. Mah head … " he added, but stopped as he barely contained a moan. Vin and Josiah shared a worried glance.
"Don't worry on it jist now. Josiah, I'm gonna go find somethin' for you to lean on."
"Brother, I can manage," the big man said as he tried to stand. The leg didn't hold and he fell back, grasping the knee and grinding his teeth with the pain.
"Stay here with Ez. I won't be long."
In less than five minutes, Vin returned with a sturdy limb that would easily hold the weight of the imposing preacher. As Vin stood next to Josiah and made sure he was able to move with the aid of the roughly-fabricated cane, they heard Ezra speaking softly behind them.
"If we are leavin', then it's time … to put this right," he said quietly, more to himself than to his companions, more force on the last word than the previous ones as he shoved his shoulder into an outcrop of rock wall. A loud yelp of, "Christ!" was heard next, and then they watched helplessly as Ezra fell to the ground once more.
"Ezra!" Josiah yelled.
"Damn it," Vin added as he walked up to his hurting friend. "Why'd ya do that?" he asked as he kneeled in front of the frustrating gambler.
"N … Needed to … be done. W … Wouldn't be able to … get far … the way it was," he answered, breathing through the pain.
"Ya didn't have ta to it alone," Vin chastised.
"Same result," Ezra responded as he hissed through a spike of pain in his shoulder. Vin gave him a look that said he was wrong about that. Ezra ducked his head. Vin shook his.
"Josiah, help me bind his arm and then … "
"Might ah suggest," Ezra started, still catching his breath, "that we remove ourselves … from this … abysmal place first? Ah fear mah … earlier indiscretion … could make an … unwelcome reappearance … if we remain here … much longer. And the longer … we stay, the more likely we could … be buried alive, an outcome that ah am convinced … is desired by none of us."
"Yeah, yer right about that." Vin looked at Ezra and knew the answer before he asked the question. "Can you walk?"
"Yes. Just set me straight should ah veer towards a wall."
"Josiah, you ready?" Vin asked irritably. Their time in the cavern was doing a number on Tanner's normally good nature.
"As ready as I can be," Josiah responded calmly.
"Stay on his right side," Vin instructed, noting that though both he and Josiah had been hurt, the preacher's injury was far worse. Vin wanted to be the one to manage the gambler's injured shoulder.
They had only made it to the first large chamber, just a short thirty-five feet into the mine, but the additional mess of rock and wood made for a slow go of it heading back out. Josiah tripped once, and Ezra grabbed him with his good arm. But the effort caused him his own trouble as he lost his already precarious hold on his balance. The dizziness worsened the longer he stood upright. By the time the three men stumbled out into the bright sunshine, Ezra was about done in.
"V … Vin," he said before he suddenly fell to his knees.
"Josiah, head over to the horses. I'll get Ezra."
They'd left the horses tied to a tree about twenty-five feet from the entrance. They were lucky, despite the cantankerous nature of Peso and the independent streak in Chaucer, that the blast hadn't chased their rides away. There was a large boulder to the right of where the horses had been tied, and then a series of other big rocks leading to the cave's opening.
"I'll get a bedroll set up," the preacher said. He looked to the sky, shook his head and said, "Least we got a clear day."
"Yeah," Vin agreed. The tracker turned to his downed friend, who appeared to be breathing through a hard temptation to throw up. "Ezra?' he asked as he kneeled in front of the ailing man. "I'm gonna lift ya up, get ya comfortable over there so we can wrap that arm, make ya feel better."
Ezra, for his part, gave just a faint nod of his head. Vin successfully got his friend to the bedroll. Between him and Josiah, they got the man's left arm wrapped up tight against his chest. By the time they'd finished, Ezra had paled another shade or two.
"'m gonna clean that nick in yer head now," Vin warned.
"'s a nick, is it?" Ezra slurred. "Good to know ah won't need Mistah Jackson punchin' a needle through to sew it up."
"Wouldn't count on that," Josiah said.
"So, a nick it is not?" Ezra challenged.
"No it ain't." Vin worked quickly, took Josiah's medicinal whiskey and cleaned the wound carefully. Ezra flinched and gasped throughout the operation. By the end, once his head was well-wrapped, Ezra had nodded off to a restless sleep.
"Give him some time?" Josiah asked.
"Not long. That wound is pretty mean, cleaned it best I could, might still fester. And yer knee ain't supposed to be that big," Vin noted.
"It's just swollen, bruised. Time'll heal it."
Vin pulled out some jerky and handed a piece to Josiah. "He pushed me outta the way," Vin said as he watched Ezra move in his sleep. The con man slept through pained movements, feeling the added spikes of pain even in sleep every time he would try for a more comfortable position.
"Better trapped than dead," Josiah said.
"Yeah," Vin replied. He pondered what had happened and then asked, "Do you think he knew that would happen?"
"Hard to say. Ezra's a quick thinker, can assess a situation better'n anyone I've ever met. I wouldn't be surprised if he saw exactly what would happen."
"So you think he decided that hurtin' his shoulder again and gettin' a head wound was worth the risk to save me?"
Josiah cocked his head and presented Vin with a sad smile. "No. I think Ezra thought that even if he risked his life it was worth it to save you," Josiah responded.
"Damn."
The two lawmen allowed Ezra just thirty minutes before packing up their small camp and waking him up to prepare to leave.
"Ezra," Josiah said softly as he placed his palm on the southerner's forehead. Ezra felt a little warm, which was the best reason they had to get moving. He wouldn't have developed a fever or infection this soon, but it was a reminder of what Nathan always said, that getting injuries tended quick was the best way to avoid a fever or infected wounds, both of which, when they got bad, could be deadly.
"Come on, let's get ya up and on yer horse," Vin said as he kneeled to the other side of the waking gambler.
"Time izzit?" Ezra asked woozily. He reached for his watch but Vin patted his hand away.
"It's nearing to eleven or so. We'll be back and have ya looked at before Mrs. Potter has her next batch of pies out to cool."
"Ugh. Mistah Tanner, please. No more talk of food." The gambler welcomed the help of both men as he used his legs to force himself up. He fell into Vin's chest, forcing the former buffalo hunter to gasp. "Mah apologies, Vin." He tried to move away from the pressure he had placed on Vin's sore arm and collided with Josiah, the primitive walking stick Vin had made was all that kept him on his feet. "Josiah, did ah hurt you more? Ah … Ah … " he started but the preacher wouldn't let him finish.
"Ezra, quit it. You got knocked but good on the head, you can't see right, you got an arm strapped to your chest. Your balance is gonna be off. Now stop fidgetin' and let Vin and me get you to your horse."
"Ah forgot about mah eyesight. Ah was wonderin' why everything looked like a lopsided kaleidoscope."
"Yer eyes'll be fine once you've had a chance to rest," Vin reassured his ailing partner. "Hold tight to yer saddle while I help Josiah up." Ezra did as he was told, resting his head against the familiar scents of leather and his cherished steed. He listened to the grunts as Vin assisted Josiah, welcome sounds in their own way. "All right. Yer turn," the tracker said as he placed a gentle touch to Ezra's back. "Lift yer foot up," Vin instructed. Ezra complied and Vin gave him a leg up as Josiah grabbed hold of the smaller man's uninjured right arm to help him get seated. Ezra moaned as the jostling aggravated the pain in his shoulder. "Sorry, pard," Vin said as he made sure his friend was safely on his saddle.
"It could not be helped," Ezra conceded. "Ah now can see, or rather, cannot see, that this will be quite a challenge," he said as he blinked his eyes in the hope of gaining a clearer picture.
"Don't go worryin' 'bout not bein' able to see. Ya got me on one side, J'siah on the other, and Chaucer will take care of the rest."
"Then ah am in good hands," Ezra sighed as he settled in for the ride home.
The journey home took about twice as long as it normally would; Chaucer recognized the need for a gentle ride for his injured owner. Vin and Josiah shared occasional glances across their view of the southerner. Chaucer might be a pain in the neck when Ezra was fit, the striking equine only having eyes – and the patience – for his owner, but he handled Ezra with kid gloves when he sensed the man was hurt. It was an amazing animal that the gambler rode, and every one of Ezra's fellow peacekeepers admired and appreciated the horse's qualities …when they weren't damning him to a large pot of glue.
Chris Larabee and J.D. Dunne saw the men riding in far sooner than they should have been back.
"J.D., go make sure Nathan's ready," Chris ordered. "This has got to be trouble." There always seemed a fifty-fifty chance with Vin and Ezra that they would find trouble. If chance held true like Chris expected, Josiah was likely an innocent bystander in the story soon to follow.
"They're ridin' in real slow,"J.D. answered worriedly.
"Yep. Go ahead." J.D. ran for the clinic as Chris walked over to meet the riders. It was another sign that all was not well when none of the three stopped at the livery. Chris reached them and, walking alongside Peso, asked, "What happened?"
"Damn mine. We're closin' it, soon as we can," Vin answered angrily.
"What happened?" Chris asked again as he looked at Ezra hunched low in his saddle.
"Someone was blastin' nearby, nearly buried all three of us," Josiah explained.
Chris could see Ezra just barely holding on. "He all right?"
"Not hardly," Vin answered. "Got hit hard on the head, can't see right and that damn shoulder o' his went out again." Nathan had warned that Ezra's bum shoulder was only going to be a bigger problem the more often it slipped out of place. Chris knew that whatever it was that had put the man in the position to injure it again likely had to do with saving the life of one or both of his two partners for the day.
"Shit. How 'bout you two?"
"Josiah's leg is bruised and swollen," Vin offered.
"And Mistah Tanner's right arm is botherin' him," the gambler said softly.
"Thought you were sleepin' sittin' up, Ezra," Chris said companionably as they all approached the clinic.
"Fortunately, ah was for most of the ride. Unfortunately, ah am now fully cognizant." Ezra started to lean as though to dismount.
"Hold tight, Ezra," Chris ordered as he stepped between Peso and Chaucer. "All right, now go ahead and swing your leg over." Ezra did just that, landing awkwardly up against Chris' chest. He moaned and leaned his sore head on the former gunman's shoulder. "Just get yer breath and we'll head on up."
"Good Lord, ah cannot imagine how," Ezra lamented as his head bobbed wearily, his body nearly at its breaking point, his neck muscles unable to stand the strain at keeping his head steady. Chris patted him lightly on the back as he looked up to the clinic on the second floor. Nathan really needed to find a place with fewer stairs.
"Nate and me will get ya up there." Chris watched as Nathan Jackson and J.D. headed down the stairs. "J.D., can you take care of the horses?"
"Sure thing," the young man from the east replied.
"When you're done, go let Mary know what happened. See if she can put a notice in the paper for tomorrow," Chris suggested.
"I'm sure she'll have time. She'll want more details," the youngest member of the seven said, his eyes wide, his demeanor projecting that he was waiting for further instruction from his boss.
"Tell her I'll come see her as soon as we get everyone settled."
"All right." J.D. gathered the horses and led them to the other side of the building.
Vin looked up at the clear blue sky. "It started out like such a nice day." He assisted Josiah up the stairs to the clinic.
"Could've been far worse," the preacher replied. Vin nodded his agreement. Chris often joked that both he and Ezra were cursed. The tribes he'd spent time with would say otherwise, believing that a man made his own path. Vin believed, especially as Ezra had felt more a part of the seven and of the community he'd had some small part in nurturing these last few years, that they were both willing to risk more for what they now had. 'With great risk comes great reward', Ezra had once read to him. He didn't remember who had said it first, but it seemed to the thoughtful Texan that, though he agreed with the sentiment, for him and Ezra it more often brought a heap of hurt.
"Let's put Ezra on the bed. Josiah, you sit here," Nathan said, pointing to his chair. "Chris, grab a chair from outside for Vin."
"I'm fine."
"Yeah," Nathan countered as he looked up from starting on the gambler. "I can see that from the way you keep holdin' your arm like it might fall off." The healer nodded to Chris as he returned with a chair and then started to remove Ezra's jacket and arsenal of weapons, then his vest and shirt, and then set him to lay against the well-pillowed headboard. He looked up to find that Vin was still standing. "Sit," he commanded. Vin sat with a put-upon sigh.
"Ezra, I'm gonna check out your head first," Nathan said to the listless con man. Ezra just stared at the black man, blinking lazily. "How do you feel?" he asked, hoping for a response from his patient.
"Unwell," Ezra replied with a shiver.
"Chris, hand me that extra blanket," Nathan asked as he covered Ezra with the one on the bed. Chris took the initiative and placed the extra blanket on the injured lawman.
Next, Nathan removed the sweaty bandage from Ezra's head and proceeded to clean the wound. "I can see why you don't feel too good." He prodded the deepest gash and a few of the worst-looking cuts, eliciting a hiss of pain from the otherwise abnormally quiet man. "I think I see some splinters in this deeper cut."
"I cleaned it as best I could. Figured it was better to get him back here," Vin said guiltily.
"It was," both Nathan and Ezra said at the same time. Nathan, Chris and Josiah all grinned at the simultaneous response, and Ezra likely would have if he wasn't having such a hard time seeing and concentrating so hard on not throwing up. Vin wasn't finding very much that amused him at the moment.
"Chris?" Nathan asked. "Can you go check with Inez and see if she has some ice we can use for Josiah's knee?"
"It's just a strain and a bruise," Josiah argued. "Take care o' Ez first," he pleaded.
"Can do two things at once," Nathan murmured as he concentrated on cleaning out the gambler's head wound.
"Be back in a bit," Chris said as he went on the requested errand. By the time he got to the bottom of the staircase, Mary Travis was waiting for him.
"Can you walk with me? Nathan needs ice."
"Of course," Mary answered, nearly running to keep up with the long strides of the tall blond. "How are they?"
"Looks like Vin just bruised his arm some, has a two inch gash. Josiah hurt his leg … no blood or puncture … that's what the ice is for."
"And Mr. Standish?" Mary's worry was so very clear. The beautiful newspaper woman had grown fond of their resident professional poker player. It was a pivotal moment in their lives, that moment when Ezra might have died saving Mary's life just a few months prior. They had spent some time together the first days after the incident while the gambler recovered from the gunshot wound. Mary thought she understood now why Ezra had done what he'd done with the money. She also knew that Ezra Standish had truly had an epiphany after stopping that bullet; he now knew that what he'd planned to do was wrong, no matter how much his actions had been expected. After some long, heartfelt talks with her, Mary had convinced the former con man that it didn't matter what he had planned to do that day, it was what he had actually done that was the true measure of the man. His friends had come around to that thinking long before the gambler finally did.
"He's kinda beat up, Mary. Shoulder went out again, and he took a hit to the head."
"Oh," she said worriedly. "Is he conscious?"
"For the most part."
"That's good, though. I'm sure Nathan must think of that as a good sign."
"Yeah, look. There's something else. He … uh … "
Mary Travis looked on as Chris Larabee struggled for the words. "Just tell me," she said.
"He's got blurred vision in his left eye and he can't see out of his right."
Mary blinked, frowned, and looked back toward the clinic. She looked to Chris again with a forced smile and said, "I'm sure it's temporary," as though trying to convince herself as well as Chris Larabee of that truth. "You said he got hit hard. Was it by rock?" she asked, using her job as a reporter in an attempt to hide her concern.
"Not sure. He has some splinters in one of the cuts on his head. I still haven't got a lot of details." He grasped her arm warmly and said, "I'm sure you're right. He'll be seeing clear as day soon and then Nathan'll have a helluva time keeping him down." Mary blinked, her pale green eyes incredibly huge showing her concern. A man could get lost in those eyes. Not the time or place for that thought, Chris focused on his assigned errand. "Look, I gotta go."
"Of course. I'll stop by later to get the rest of the story."
"All right. Need ya to make sure that people know to stay away until we can close that mine up."
"I'll make it clear." She watched as Chris swiftly took the steps up to the saloon.
By the time he returned with the ice, Chris found the clinic crowded with all of his men. He placed the twin buckets of ice down near Josiah and said to Buck and J.D., "One of you two is gonna have to take Ezra's shift this evening."
"I'm doin' it, Chris," J.D. answered. "I just wanted to check on everyone and then I'm headed for a nap."
"And I'm goin' back out, old dog. Just makin' sure these fellas are all in one piece," Buck added.
"I'd say, more or less, that we are all in one piece," Josiah offered.
"Speak for y'self," Ezra murmured. It appeared that the gambler had been checked over, cleaned up and re-bandaged while the gunslinger had run his errand. He was lying on his side, with pillows propped behind him to ease the pressure on his shoulder. And his eyes, in addition to his head, were now also covered with white cloth. Nathan nodded to Chris to keep him from asking about it just then, and then tilted his head toward the door.
"Ezra," the healer said warmly, "I want you to sleep." He stared everyone down, daring them to open their mouths and agitate their injured friend at great risk to their own well-being. "That tea should be makin' you tired." The con man sighed and was quickly asleep, his long day, the injuries he'd suffered and stress over what might have been and what still could be all combining to knock the man out. Nathan looked to Josiah. "Be right back." The preacher nodded as he watched Ezra's slumber.
The four lawmen listened quietly as the fifth – the town's healer – gave them an update.
"Helluva thing, Vin. You boys were lucky," Nathan said softly.
"Don't know if Ez would agree with you there, Nate," the tracker answered. Vin's arm was in a sling, having been tended while Chris was at the saloon.
"Well, I think he's got some swellin'. His one eye is better than it was, so Ezra says."
"You believe him?" Chris asked. Vin and Ezra, so different in so many ways, both tended to downplay injury and illness.
"I do. I know he can be as mean as a rattler when he has to spend time recoverin' from things, but when it's serious – when he's real scared – he's always good about bein' honest about how he's feeling." Nathan shook his head, wondering why most gunshot wounds didn't seem to scare the man much. "I think when the swelling goes down, his eyesight will come back."
"How long do you think it'll take before he can see like normal?" Buck asked.
"Hard to say. A day, maybe two. If it goes longer than that, we're gonna need to get him to a doctor, or get one to come see him here."
"Sounds like maybe we should call someone now, jest in case," Vin said, his brow furrowed with worry.
"Nah. I really think with the improvement he's already had in the one eye that he'll be seeing some with the other next time he wakes up," Nathan assured his friends.
"It's gonna be dark when he wakes next," J.D. said.
"No. That tea will keep him out for a while. Sleep is the best medicine for him right now." Nathan looked to J.D. "Get on out, ya had your update."
"What about Vin and J'siah?"
"Vin needs to rest his arm," Nathan said as he turned to the tracker. "You should sleep in Ezra's room tonight."
"You need a bath anyway, Vin," Chris said with a grin. Vin elbowed his friend hard with his good arm.
"Josiah needs to use ice on that leg, on and off, for the rest of the day, and he'll be off of that leg for 'bout a week. He should heal fine. And I need to go start icing it, so all y'all … shoo."
"Guess he told us, eh J.D.?" Buck asked as he stole the young man's bowler hat and chased one another like children out of the clinic.
"That was one extreme way to get out of workin' to close up that mine." The leader of the seven had been watching quietly as the card sharp showed signs of waking.
Ezra blinked his eyes slowly as he came to full wakefulness. He smiled as he saw the face of Chris Larabee looking down at him with a smirk, saw it as clearly as if the sun was shining a special light just so that Ezra Standish could tell for sure – could mark this day – that his eyesight was truly back, one hundred percent.
"It seems that Mistah Tanner is not the only one among us who is blessed with impeccable timing," Ezra replied smartly. "Am ah to gather that the deed is now complete and no further harm will come to anyone due to the decrepit nature of the mine?"
"Yeah, it's sealed," the tall blond said as he sat down. "Coulda used your expertise with explosives, but Buck brought it down on the second try," Chris noted without even attempting to hide his irritation. The first dynamite blast shot more outside of the cavern than in, spraying clouds of dust over Buck, J.D., Vin and Chris. "Vin complained for an hour afterwards that he'd just taken a bath three days ago," the gunslinger related with a snort.
Ezra smiled but the humor didn't reach his eyes, which, though seeing clearly still looked pained. "Wasn't that the day of our near-entombment?" Ezra asked with a frown. He rubbed at his forehead. The gambler had been suffering headaches as he waited patiently in Nathan's clinic for his vision to return. He'd accepted all of the disgusting pain-relieving teas that the healer offered; the headaches and the worry over whether he would see again were both eased as the herbal concoctions knocked him into deep and healing rest. Nathan had said that it would be a few more days before the headaches eased.
"It was. He's at the bathhouse now." Chris scooted the chair to a better angle so that Ezra could see him without straining. "It's nice, what you do for him." It had become habit now, when Ezra was stuck in Nathan's clinic healing, that Vin use his place to get some decent sleep in a bed that did not contribute to breaking the man's already compromised back.
Ezra stopped rubbing his head and looked at Chris. "Ah recognize that you gentlemen look upon me as the 'stubborn cuss', but truly, our Mistah Tanner holds the winnin' hand in that regard. The man is lucky that he can still walk. Is there nothin' to be done to convince him to be rid of that infestation he calls a home and utilize proper living accommodations that come with his employment?"
"Nathan and I work on him all the time about that, Ezra," Chris said as he shook his head. "You know he uses a room when it gets too cold."
"Ah may have to play the guilt card on him. After all, it would be unfortunate if he became crippled by his back pain after I saved his life. It would, in fact, be rude. Make that two cards," the gambler noted with a satisfied smile.
"Worth a try," Chris encouraged. "Did you and Vin talk?"
"Ah have come to admire and feel great affection towards Mistah Tanner, but in addition to his stubborn nature … " Chris interrupted.
"Pot and kettle," the tall blond said, feigning a whisper.
Ezra glared at his boss and continued without missing a step, " … the man is mighty irritating. As much as ah try to convince him that he bears no fault in what transpired, he persists in wearing the badge of guilt."
"He feels pretty deeply about you, too." Chris made sure Ezra was looking him in the eyes when he said it, wanting to make sure the gambler saw in his eyes that he felt the same way, as they both knew it would be a cold day in hell before he ever said it out loud. "And he hurts hard when he thinks he's done a friend wrong."
Ezra blinked tired eyes and pleaded, "But Chris … " the leader of the seven cut him off once more.
"Don't fret on it now." Ezra leaned heavily into his pillow and closed his eyes. "Give him both barrels when you're feeling better." Ezra didn't respond as it appeared sleep was calling to him once more. Chris reached out and placed his hand on the gambler's forehead.
"It is a mild fever," Ezra noted without opening his eyes.
"Nathan told me." He sat quietly next to the healing southerner, but with Ezra, the quiet as much as any noise disturbed the man's rest. He opened his eyes. It was so good to witness the man seeing with those vivid green orbs; the earlier struggles, the pained, failed attempts to focus that Ezra had been experiencing had been hard for all of them to witness.
"Mistah Larabee?" Ezra asked with a sleepy whisper, his eyes closed once more.
Chris left those thoughts of an unseeing Ezra Standish and focused back on the present.
"Anything you need?" he asked.
Ezra opened his eyes, though the tired and still-healing man had a hell of a time keeping his lids open. He smiled as his eyes locked with Chris'. The look said it all. In this town, in this clinic that he took great pains to avoid … at this moment, knowing he had friends – even frustrating ones - it was plain to see that Ezra Standish had everything he needed. Chris smiled, nodded his head in understanding, patted the gambler's shoulder and left him to his rest.
The End.