"Very well. I shall demonstrate on more card trick, but only on the absolute assurance that you each and every one of you return to your labours post haste on its completion." Ezra tried to glare sternly at the children, channeling his best Chris Larabee impersonation. Unfortunately for him, they were far to aware of the glint in his eye, and of just how fond he was of entertaining them. Of the five youngsters gathered around him, only Joey Collins looked up in confusion. "He said we are supposed to go do our chores when he's done – but he don't mean it" one of the older children explained.
"Doesn't mean it, and yes, I do." He fought to hide his grin. Thank heavens none of them played poker. They saw through his every bluff. He fanned out his deck of cards in front of Joey and encouraged him to select a card. As he reached, the child was distracted from his task by sudden shouting in the street.
"I done told you, you pole cat, to stay away from my sister, and damn it I meant it!"
Ezra looked up expecting to see Buck being confronted by an indignant family member of his latest female companion. Instead, he Owen Whistler pointing a gun in his direction. It took him just seconds to realize the target was in fact the young man standing just a few feet away, directly in front of the children. Owen's gun was raised, and his aim appeared to be somewhat less than steady. Ezra knew that even his draw, hell – even Larabee's draw, was not going to be fast enough.
He jumped in front of the children, pushing them to the ground as he heard two shots fired in rapid succession. He couldn't tell for certain how much time passed until he heard a third ring out. All he heard after that was the crying of the children and Mrs. Potter shouting for help. Buck and Vin were both shouting his name, then calling for Nathan.
Then came the pain. No, the word pain did not do justice to the feeling in his chest. Agony, torture, torment. Those began to come closer, but still seemed insufficient. It was as if a hand was gripping at his heart, squeezing it and ripping it from him. It was a choking sensation that made breathing impossible. He'd been hurt before, more often than he could remember. But this was an entirely new experience. All else paled in comparison.
He felt himself being moved. Being held. There was a pressure on his back. It wasn't helping, but he found he had no desire to waste his rather limited breath saying anything about it. He was surprised to discover he could open his eyes. There was nothing but sky to focus on, despite the fact he could hear voices close by. Vin was speaking to him. It sounded both far away, and right beside him at the same time.
"Han on Pard. You hear me Ezra? Keep breathing. Nathan's coming Ezra. You hang on."
"Damn it Ezra, I'm sorry." Buck was there. Ezra thought that was good, although he couldn't for the life of him imagine why it felt so important. "I shoulda been faster. I couldn't get a clean shot at him Ezra. The kids were there, and the were just too many folks in the way. Ezra, you keep breathing."
"Not – fault." Ezra was gasping for the breath to speak. "No fault."
"Don't talk Pard. Buck – get Chris her. And where the hell is Nathan?" The words were barely out of Vin's mouth Nathan was leaping up the steps of the mercantile.
"OK Ezra, you just take it easy. I'm gonna take a look at your back. You just let us do the work here. Vin's gonna hold you…" Nathan stopped speaking when he saw the blood under Ezra, soaking the ground and the clothing. He could see the wounds, blood still seeping out. He felt for the pulse with one hand while trying to monitor breathing with the other. He looked up, tears already forming in eyes and shook his head slightly. Vin clenched his jaw and muttered back.
"Do something damn it."
"I can't Vin. I can't."
"Chris?" Ezra gasped softly.
"He's coming Ezra. Buck went for him. He's on his way."
Buck hadn't needed to go far. Larabee had heard the gunfire and dropped the forkful of eggs onto his plate, running from the restaurant at the far end of the street. He was the commotion before he saw Buck running toward him.
"Who, and how bad?" he called out, already knowing what the look on Buck's face meant.
"Ez was hit twice in the back. Nathan and Vin are with him." The tone told Chris all he needed to hear – the last thing he wanted to hear.
"Ah Shit. No. NO."
It had been at most two minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. Ezra was seeing everything through a fog. He had to talk to Chris. Had to see him. He hadn't needed Nathan to tell him anything. From the moment he'd been hit, he knew what was happening. What was about to happen.
Vin was still holding on to him, trying to soothe and calm him. The pain had actually stopped. A numbness was taking over. He was cold, despite the warm liquid he appeared to be covered in. The fact that it was his own blood didn't really seem to register with him. It was quiet again. The children had stopped crying. Or, he decided, they had been moved away from the scene. Into the store and given candy as a distraction from the scene outside. He hoped that was right.
"Chris?" he whispered again. The stress was gone from his face now. There was no strain in his voice reflecting pain, but there was a sense of urgency to his tone.
"I'm here Ezra. I'm right here."
"Children?"
Chris looked puzzled and glanced to Vin for the answer.
"You protected them Ezra. They're all fine. Mrs. Potter took them inside. None of them were hurt." Scraped and bruised, yes. Scared half to death, definitely. No reason to burden Ezra with that information about that now.
"You did good Ezra." Chris assured him. "Real good." He gripped the gambler's hand, shocked by how cold it already felt. There was no strength in the fingers that tried to grip back.
"Letter – drawer"
"I'll find it Ezra. I'll take care of everything." He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Is it for Maude? You want me to see that she gets it?"
"You – for you." Chris was to overcome to be surprised. "I'll find it Ezra – don't worry about that."
Vin clutched him tighter as he felt Ezra shaking. He'd heard the rattle in his breathing and fought to keep him close and comforted. The rapidly weakening man tried to smile his gratitude, but a fit of coughing overwhelmed him. Blood spurted through barely moving lips.
"Shhh Ezra. It's OK. You don't have to do anything." Buck handed over his bandana to clean the blood.
"Good life. Thank you for that." Ezra's energy was fading faster. "Good death." His eyes were closing, his breathing almost stopped. The men looked into his face, watching him stare into the distance. Suddenly the eyes opened wide, panic evident. He was anxious. Frightened.
"Chris? I'm not…this isn't.." He coughed again, the pain returning.
He understood instantly. "No Ezra, this isn't that. I know. Known for a long time now you wouldn't ever do that. We know you don't want to go. Like you said Ezra – you good life. You're a good man Ezra. Ezra? Ezra?" He looked into the still face and reached out, gently closing the lifeless eyes. "Goodbye Ezra."
7-7-7-7-7-7-7
He stood slowly, looking around trying to understand what had just happened. Five minutes ago he was eating a late breakfast and enjoying his coffee. Now, the world was upside down.
Vin hadn't moved. Hadn't released the hold he had. Nathan was sitting beside them, numbly staring at anything other than what was right next to him. Buck stood off to the side, next to JD. Chris had no idea when their youngest member had arrived. It looked at first glance that Buck was holding the young man up, but he couldn't be sure the support wasn't mutual. He looked around for their missing seventh man before remembering Josiah was out on patrol. He dreaded the notion of letting the big man know what had happened. Not that he had figured that out for himself yet.
"Damn. I never meant for Mr. Standish to get hurt. That shouldn't have happened."
Chris whipped around at the voice to find himself staring at Owen Whistler, who still stood in the middle of the street. Instead of a weapon, he now clutched at his arm, trying to staunch the flow of blood resulting from Buck's shot. The gun was at his feet. "I just wanted to get him," he continued, nodding toward his intended victim. "You think Nathan could take a look at my arm?"
Chris's eyes turned as black as his clothing. "You stupid, damned son of a bitch. What the fuck were you thinking. What the fuck were you doing?"
"Like I said, I wanted to get Charlie. I just wanted to scare him. I told him to leave Violet alone and he wouldn't listen to me so – What are you doing?"
Vin looked up from Ezra at the question to see Larabee pointing his gun. "Don't Chris. Don't kill him. He's just a stupid kid who hasn't figured out he's going to hang for this. Don't do something you'll regret."
"What makes you think I'm gonna regret this?"
"Cause it's not what Ezra would want you to do."
Chris stood for a full minute, gun rock steady, finger pressing ever so slightly on the trigger. One more ounce of pressure, one twitch, and it would be done. He took in a deep breath, eyes never leaving the target. He tilted the weapon slightly, firing. The shot went into the ground inches from Whistler's feet. "Get him outta my sight – I've got five bullets left."
When none of the lawmen moved, Bob Thompson stepped forward from where he'd been stationed in front of the saloon. He grabbed the kid firmly by the injured arm and shoved him toward the jailhouse. "Get your ass moving. Give me a reason and I'll beat you till you can't move."
Bob glared at the crowd that was gathering. Blood thirsty vultures, he thought. Half of you wouldn't give him the time of day, but you'll come to gawk at this. The glare was enough to send most away, or at least far enough back to give those truly grieving the space they needed.
Buck turned when he heard an anguished cry from behind. Inez had come out to see what assistance she could offer and was struck down by the sight. With a quick glance at JD to make sure the kid knew he was leaving, he stepped over to her.
"I'm sorry darlin'. You shouldn't be seeing this."
"See it? It never should have happened. Madre de Dios, how did it happen?"
"He saved the kids." It was the only explanation he could offer. The only one that made this all somehow a little more bearable. He wrapped his arms around the trembling woman as she buried her face in his chest.
"Of course he did." She answered. "He'd have no choice." She pushed herself way. "Today, we mourn. Tomorrow, we celebrate his life. I shall start preparing." She walked away, weaving slightly but determined. She reached out and stopped Mary Travis who was running to the scene. "Señor Chris will need you. Be strong. Calm him."
Mary looked at the sight and fought to bring herself under control. Inez was right. Chris was unmoving, frozen in grief, shock and anger. She moved cautiously toward him, making sure he saw her before she spoke. He didn't give her a chance.
"Don't say it. Don't try to make things all right. You can't do it. No one can."
"You're right. I can't. It isn't. But you're not alone Chris. They're hurting too. Lots of us are. He saved my life. Saved a lot of people around here in ways they never knew." Chris just nodded. He moved away, walking toward Ezra. Buck got there a few steps sooner and went down on one knee. Vin finally released his grip as Buck reached under Ezra's body to lift him. Nathan and Chris joined in helping him stand. JD reached up and gently shifted Ezra's head so it rested on Buck's shoulder. The all walked slowly toward the undertaker.
The remaining crowd stepped back reverently and quietly. Mrs. Potter had tears streaming down her face as she stepped out of the store to watch them leave. Tiny watched from the stable door. He turned back and looked at Chaucer, standing motionless in his stall. There was no doubt in Tiny's mind that the horse knew what had happened, and was grieving. He wondered if the animal would survive the loss.
Ralph Colby had already begun to prepare his table for Ezra. Buck placed him gently on it. "He gets the best you got – you understand?"
"Absolutely." He looked each man in the eye. "I promise you it was be something he'd approve of. Something worthy of him." Buck nodded his approval, and the all turned and left without looking back. Once outside, they paused, uncertain of what to do next. Death was not new to any of them, but they felt lost at this moment.
"I'm gonna clean up." Vin was the first to speak. "Think I'll burn these clothes." As he took a few steps away, Buck called after him. "Inez is at the saloon." No other explanation seemed necessary. "Where are you going JD?"
The young man was walking dejectedly toward the stables. "Gonna saddle up – find Josiah."
"He'll be riding back in on his own soon enough."
"He needs to hear this from one of us, not the first face he sees in town."
"Watch for him to come. We'll spread word for folks to stay quiet. Don't think this is news anybody wants to have to tell him." Nathan offered. "He'll head to the saloon for lunch as soon as he gets in. Always does."
Two hours later they were still gathered at their table. Vin had rejoined them, passing on the whiskey or beer. He had the feeling somebody had best be sober when Josiah heard the news. He doubted Nathan would be able to handle the big man on his own. He was surprised to see that, after a single shot each, Chris and Buck had also switched to coffee. There was no real conversation, with the only sounds in the saloon coming from the back kitchen, where Inez took her rage and frustration out on assorted pots and pans.
"He's coming." JD slipped quietly into the room.
Josiah noted the streets seemed uncommonly quiet, but didn't give the matter much thought. There were some days when things just worked out like that. He was to busy planning out the rest of the day in his mind; a quick lunch and maybe the comfort of a short nap before doing some work on the church. If the silence of the street had been a bit disconcerting, the silence in the saloon was oppressive. He knew the moment he walked in that things weren't right. He looked to the table, his eye going immediately to the empty chair. His mouth went dry as he tried to look at the others, but couldn't shift his gaze. He knew, before anyone said a word.
Buck stood first and went to the doorway, closing the entrance off. Chris was on his feet right after. "He's gone Josiah. We lost Ezra. It was fast. Not much chance for hurting. Not much chance for anything."
"Who?"
"Doesn't matter." Chris answered, not believing it.
"Who?" Josiah's voice was so low, so quiet, it almost couldn't be heard.
"He's in the jail. He'll have a trial and we do this – Buck, stop him!" Easier said than done as Josiah barreled toward the door, knocking JD out of his path. Nathan and Vin tried to slow the momentum, but were failing.
"Enough!" Inez's voice broke through the turbulence. She marched to Josiah. "Señor Ezra died with honour. You will not insult him by breaking the laws he defended. He earned that respect and you will give it to him."
"Yes ma'am, he did." Josiah calmed somewhat, although the anger was still evident. "For you, for him, I'll wait." Vin and Nathan released their hold, ready to pounce again if needed. Reluctantly, Josiah turned away from the door and took a seat. "How?" he choked out the single word. He listened, his heart breaking as they spoke.
"He knew he was right with us?" Josiah understood how Ezra thought, and needed to hear the answer.
Chris knew what the real question was. "He asked me."
"Asked you what?" JD wasn't following this.
"If I knew this wasn't him running out on us."
"That's what he meant? That's what he was worried about – that we'd think he was running out?" JD was stunned.
"I told him I knew he'd never do that. I hope to God he heard me. I think he did." He thought of the calmed looked he'd seen when he closed Ezra's eyes. "Yeah, he heard."
"Then he got his last rites. That was the only absolution he'd have wanted. That he needed." Josiah tossed back the third whiskey Inez had poured for him, turning the glass upside down to show he was done. She placed her hand on his shoulder to have it engulfed by his larger one. He looked up and smiled at her.
"He was blessed to have you watching out for him. You'll have to promise to keep doing that for all of us." She smiled back. "Someone has to."
"Inez?" She turned to face Chris. "Do you know where Maude is?" She shook her head.
"I think Ezra got a letter from her last week." JD recalled. "If he kept it, I guess it would be up in his room." He knew he should offer to look for it, but the thought almost made him physically ill. Going through Ezra's things? Looking in his possessions? The man had valued his privacy above all else, at JD dreaded the idea of such a violation.
"It's OK JD. I'll look for it. He said there was a letter in his dresser. That may be what he was talking about."
"Said the letter was for you." Vin responded.
"Can't be sure he knew exactly what he was saying at that point. Doesn't really matter. I'll look for whatever I can find."
Josiah stood slowly. "Where is he?" Buck and Nathan stood at the same time.
"At Colby's"
"Relax brothers. I have no intention of causing trouble. I need to go say a few things to him, and would prefer to do it alone."
It was a slow walk to his destination, but he still arrived too soon. He knew he needed to go in, but wasn't ready to take those last few steps. He thought of how many times he'd come here, or to similar locations, to say a prayer over a lost soul. No single event had ever filled him with as much dread as this moment.
The door opened without any movement on his part. "I anticipated your arrival Josiah. I haven't finished with the casket, but I've prepared him. I'll leave you. Take as much time as you need."
Josiah went to the side room. Ezra lay covered to the chest with a clean white sheet. It matched the shirt he was wearing. At some point, Colby had retrieved Ezra's red jacket. Maybe he'd been wearing it. If so, it looked pristine from the front, but that would have made sense. Josiah had no intention of looking at the back.
He pulled a chair over and sat next to his friend. He thought of the number of times he'd heard people say the dead looked like they were just sleeping. That had to be one of the cruelest lies he'd ever heard. Ezra didn't look like he was sleeping. Not for a second. The joy he took from every day of life was gone. His face was grey and slack. Even his hair seemed duller. The only way sleep was reflected at all was in the closed eyes. Those observant, mischievous, spirited green eyes were closed. Josiah could not have imagined how grateful he was that that simple detailed that spared him from looking into the empty gaze.
"Forgive me Ezra, but I thank God I wasn't here for your final breath. I know you weren't alone, and I take comfort and solace in that, as I am sure you did. To watch the life leave those eyes, to see your love of life fade to darkness is more than this old soul could have handled."
He took the cold hand in his. "I don't believe I will ever look at a deck of cards without thinking of you. I know the ace of spades will always bring that gold toothed smile to mind. You know, there were times – many times – when I was certain you were put on this earth for the singular purpose of vexing us. Chris would support me in that belief.
Then, you would turn around and to something to shock us all into taking a second look. Helping Vin the way you did. Yes Ezra, we all knew. Helping Lei Pan get home. I can only imagine what that cost you – and I'm not talking about the train fare. And this. Today. Nothing you wouldn't do for the children. Not a one of us surprised by that.
It is sure going to be a lot less entertaining around here without you Son. On the other hand, I am guessing Heaven just became a much more interesting place."
He reached up and gently cupped Ezra's face in his hands. "Farewell Son."
7-7-7-7-7-7-7
Chris was staring out the window of Ezra's room when he saw Josiah returning. He was relieved to see the big mad appeared to be a little more relaxed than he'd expected. Maybe they were going to get through all of this without anyone else getting hurt. Chris needed that. He couldn't handle any more theatrics, any more drama today. He was having enough trouble holding himself in check without having to babysit any of the others.
Buck seemed to have taken on the role of overseer. Not for the first time. He'd taken that post years earlier when Chris fell into a world of guilt and grief. Buck would be there for anyone who needed him. To talk, to work through the demons, to help them sober up in the morning. This time would be different thought. This time, Chris vowed, he was going to be there for Buck. For all his pretense, he was going to be hurting as much as the rest of them. Maybe more. He'd dwell on not getting a shot off fast enough. Never mind that is was impossible to have done so, he'd be beating himself up quietly over the perceived failure. Chris was going to make it his mission to keep things from going to far. Losing one man was bad enough. He wouldn't let today cost him two friends.
Buck wouldn't be alone in needing that support. Nathan would curse himself for not performing a miracle. It would take him some time to accept that Ezra was dead the moment the gun had been fired.
JD was a whole other matter. The young man took everything to heart, and this was going to cut deeply. The west could harden a man quickly, making him face more reality than anyone could predict. JD had already seen his share of tragedy, but losing Ezra was going to hit him in ways he'd never imagine. Buck may have boasted on his role of big brother, but Ezra was equally active in taking the naïve easterner under his wing. He had been much more subtle in grooming JD, slowing ensuring he developed a style and manner befitting a gentleman. Chris was pleased now to see the young woman who benefitted most from those lessons riding into town. Someone must have ridden out to the Wells ranch to let the ladies know what had happened. Casey was exactly what JD needed right now.
He hoped Nettie would be as much help to Vin. She was, if not a mother, at least an aunt to all the men. But for Vin, who had lost his mother at such a young age, Nettie had filled a void he hadn't even known existed. Her somewhat prickly relationship with Ezra had actually been one the few issues Vin had with her, until he caught on to the fact there was a lot more affection in that relationship than one saw at first glance. And that the feelings went both ways. Ezra hadn't been deprived of a mother in name, but a compassionate maternal influence was sorely lacking. Once Nettie became aware of the full story, she had allowed for the occasional fantasy about what she might do to Maude Standish if only she'd had a few hours alone, and a far less developed Christian conscience.
Chris continue to watch from above as JD and Vin came to great the women. Casey ran to JD, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was clear she was crying, and just a clear JD was close to the same state himself. Yes, they would be good for each other right now.
Vin was slower, more deliberate in his movements as he went to assist Nettie out of the wagon. She reached a hand up to the side of his face, pulling him closer. He all but collapsed at the touch, sitting heavily on the steps just a few feet away from where he'd held Ezra a few hours earlier. The wagon shielded them from public view, but Chris could see from above as Nettie settled on the step beside him.
"I couldn't help him Nettie. The one time he needed me most, I couldn't do a damn thing."
She put a hand under his chin and force him to look at her.
"Did your friend die alone?"
"No." he answered softly.
"Was he scared?"
Vin thought for a minute. "Not really. Seemed – calm? Mostly."
"Did he die being held by someone who cared about him. Who loved him? Did he die with family?"
Vin couldn't speak. He nodded slightly.
"Our Mr. Fancy Pants didn't really know what family was until you all came along. You gave him that. And at what could have been the most terrifying moment of his life, he knew instead he was cared about and cared for. What you did today was the most important thing you can do in your life. And don't you doubt for a minute that he didn't know that, and wasn't grateful for it."
"You really believe that?"
"With all my heart."
Chris wished he could have heard what Nettie was saying to Vin. Whatever it was, it worked. He saw a trace of a smile cross Vin's face, and an outright laugh followed a few moments later. Nettie stood and did a more than passable imitation of Ezra's walk, and he could only imagine the dialogue that went with it. Vin's memories of the morning were being drowned out my more enjoyable recollections. No doubt about it, he would have to get Nettie to talk to the others as well.
He turned an went back to the task at hand. Ezra's papers were neatly stacked in a small leather portfolio in the top drawer. The organization didn't surprise him, but the contents did. His will was there. Chris didn't know why that was a shock. Ezra had, from time to time, been financially well off. Often the money disappeared as quickly as it came, usually to another poker player. Still, there had been funds. And, apparently, property.
A couple of deeds were under the will. One for land in Louisiana. Inscribed on the first one, in Ezra's precise handwriting, was the word 'swamp'. The second, this time for a mine, was similarly marked, but with the phrase 'served you right'. Chris could only assume they were kept as reminders of past indiscretions. Clearly, marked the way they were, and in ink, there was no possibility he had intended to use them again.
Several letters were address to Ezra. The handwriting was different on each. Knowing it was none of his business, yet unable to resist, he opened the top envelope. The date was almost a year old. The signature at the bottom was a neatly written Sister Mary Margaret of St. Dominic's orphanage in Atlanta. The letter thanked him for his more than generous twenty-five-hundred-dollar contribution to their building fund. It would be more than enough to repair the storm damage, and provide extra's for the children. She ended with a promise to continue to pray for him.
He looked at the date again, and tried to cast back to the time. If memory served, Ezra had pestered him endlessly about being given time to participate in a poker tournament around that point. He had finally surrendered and sent him off, deciding it was less bothersome than listening to the constant badgering. He had returned a week later, laughing at how the cards had been unusually unkind to him, and while he had come close to the five-thousand-dollar prize, he had fallen short. Ah, the things he would have done with such wealth, he told them all over and over again. Clearly, at least some of such wealth had gone to building supplies and much more.
A similar letter, this time from a hospital, was next. A second look showed him it wasn't just any hospital. This was the facility where Josiah's sister resided. The letter was confirmation that a trust fund of twenty-five-hundred-dollars would take care of her every need for years to come, and promised to abide by the anonymity he had so fervently requested.
Chris stuffed the remaining letters away, ashamed of himself for intruding in such a way on matters Ezra obviously wished to keep to himself. No matter that all such action did was validate his true character even more. There would come a time in the future when this aspect of Ezra's nature would be shared, but for now he would respect the misguided need for secrecy.
Not finished with his mission, he rummaged through the drawer again, finally spotting a small pile of letters held together by fine twine. If these were from some secret companion, he was going to have to find a way to track her down. He was relieved to recognized Maude's handwriting on the top envelope, and assumed they were all from her. He had no desire to deal with what he was sure would be the heartache of reading any of them. Ezra was always pleased to get such correspondence, and was then always down for days after.
He opened the top one to confirm his suspicion that it was the most recent. A quick glance at the date showed it to be just 11 days ago. She was at and elegant hotel (based on the letterhead) in Chicago. He had a location to send the telegram. Perhaps Mary would help him write it.
There was one more envelope in drawer. As promised, it was addressed "Mr. Larabee". Damn his formality.
He moved to sit on the bed, but then thought better of it. He'd invaded Ezra's space more than enough for one day. He sat instead on the rocker that had been positioned in such aw way to ensure his back was against the wall. Always cautious – except for today.
There were two folded papers inside. His name was on top of the shorter note. He cursed again as he read it. "Thought I'd made that clear by now Ezra. Damn – I hope you heard me." Despite his initial reaction, he was smiling by the time he got to the end of the note. "Nobody but you Standish. Nobody but you." He stood and walked to the door, picking up the leather folder for safe keeping. Just before the door latched behind him he turned back, tapping it open again. He gave a quick, two fingered salute to the room. "Might have known you'd find a way to have the last word just one more time Ezra."
7-7-7-7-7-7-7
Six men remained at the freshly dug grave site as their friends slowly made their way back to town. Ezra hadn't wanted a fuss made. His letter had been clear on that. But there were too many people in town who felt the need to override that request. Most vocal on the subject were the parents who had spent the night hugging their children and thanking God, and Ezra, that they still had that privilege. Chris had backed down, knowing whatever he said would be ignored and some form of memorial would be held. At least this way they could keep things from getting out of hand.
Josiah had gone to the pulpit to speak, but after almost a minute of mutely staring at the casket, he sat down again. Mary moved to the front instead, speaking for the community and herself in observing how much the town had changed because of Ezra, and how it would simply never be the same again without him. She read a telegram from Judge Travis and added they had also heard from Ezra's mother. She stated only that Maude was in their thoughts today. Given this was taking place in a church, she refrained from saying exactly what those thoughts were.
Ezra's directions to Chris had included the words to tell Maude of his death. Apparently, the possibility had been discussed. "Please inform mother by telegram the I went out on a winning hand. That is all you will need to say. She will understand." He sent the message after confirming she was still in Chicago. Late last night, they received a reply, that, when read to the rest of the team in the saloon, resulted in several shattered glasses. "Thank you for the information. I knew he would end his life in that dead-end town. Such a wasted potential." They didn't understand all of the comments made by Inez when she heard it, but they were certain profanity had never sounded so pretty.
When no one else rose to speak at the church, the six men stood as one and took their places alongside the casket. JD couldn't help but imagine the smile that would have been on Ezra's face if he had seen the ace of spades carved into the lid. Only a few friends followed them to the cemetery, most others returning to the daily routine of life in Four Corners.
Inez cried quietly as she watched the casket settle into its final spot. She had placed a small cross on top, nestled into the carving, and kept her eyes focused there. Casey and Nettie left wildflowers on the casket, while Mary had found a single rose. Mrs. Potter and honoured her children's request and put a picture they had drawn of Ezra and Chaucer into the grave. After a few moments of silent prayer, the five women left the men to their contemplations.
When they were alone, Chris spoke.
"He wanted me to read this to you. Leave it to Ezra to write his own eulogy." He offered a smile that fooled no one.
"Gentlemen. Friends. Brothers.
As I have asked Chris to read this to you, and as I know how deeply he abhors such actions, I shall try to keep it brief. And to avoid using words such as abhors again.
I wish more than words can say that this day had not come to pass. I write that not as a misguided wish to live forever. No, my wish is that I could have avoided causing you the grief I believe you must be feeling. If your sorrow is even a small percentage of that which I would be feeling at the loss of any of you, then I know your suffering is deep.
I have had the easy part of this experience. For me, this is over. I hope my end was worthy of the trust and faith you have placed in me. At the least, I hope it was not an embarrassment.
The fact that anyone would grieve for me is a concept I would have laughed at just a few short years ago. Someone applauding my death, or orchestrating it would have been a more likely scenario. And I have no doubt that there remain those who still feel that way. Knowing that you men, you honourable and valiant men, pay me this tribute means so much more to me than simple words will ever convey.
I ask now only two things. First, that for as long as it is practical you continue to protect this town I was able to call home. This place, these people, gave my life meaning. It, and sadly it alone, is my legacy. It is an action that I hope will live on long after I am gone and forgotten.
The second is that you all continue to be there for each other in the way you were for me. I obviously do not know what happened to bring my life to an end, but I know that you men would have done all that you humanly could to prevent it. There is no doubt on this point. I ask you to help each other through grief and sorrow and then move forward in your lives. You are all far to important to me. I cannot bear the thought that what we have been might now falter. No guilt, no recriminations. No 'if only'. That is my final request to you.
By now, I will have discovered if Brother Josiah was right all along. If, in fact, there is a life after the one I have left behind. If there is, I may not – really, who am I fooling here – will not be allowed to pass through those pearly gates. Rest assured though, I will take the opportunity to request that special attention be given to each and every one of you as I can think of no men who deserve it – or need it – more.
And now, if I may be so presumptuous to speak for Josiah, I would like to offer the last word on his behalf. Go in peace. Amen."
M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7
The End
I have danced around this subject so many times I had to do it once to get it out of my system. The wonderful thing (ok, one of the wonderful things) about fan fiction is that nothing is forever. He will be back. I promise. This was a one time, get it over with story that I had to do. I promise I will never, ever, hurt him again. OK – we all know that was a lie. But I do promise to never kill him again. Probably.
Yes – I stole the title from the final episode of MASH – sue me! (Please don't, I have no money.)