"I like it," Vin Tanner said as he sat astride his horse, Peso, as they moved along the trail with his companion. "You don't like it much," he added as he tore his eyes from the striking southwestern landscape and turned to his fellow lawman.
The man beside him leisurely steered his horse to the right to avoid a large rock that, through the rainy season and unavoidable erosion because of the wet late summer and normal wear and tear of the road between Four Corners and Apache Crossing, forced its prominence on the well-used thoroughfare.
"Ah admit that mah first thought upon setting sight on this region was, to say the least, not kind," Ezra Standish replied.
"What time o' year did ya get here?" the former bounty hunter asked as he leaned to the left to grab a blade of grass. He put it in his mouth and waited for a reply.
"November. The temperatures were a blessed relief after a summer and early autumn in New Orleans. By that time of year, everything across all of these territories had turned brown. Nothing remotely resembling this year," the gambler noted.
"Yep, this year is special," Vin agreed.
"We are well into mah fifth year in this region of our country and this is the first yeah Ah can say that the green outshines the brown this far into the summah."
"Good snow, good melt, good spring rain, and so far, some decent seasonal rain," Vin agreed. "All adds up to some pretty scenery." A crack of thunder marred the peaceful, high desert day. The sounds around them had been primarily birdsong and the wind as it wafted through the trees. They had sun and non-threatening clouds for the last couple of hours as they headed home. Ezra looked south, but Vin turned to look back west, the exact direction of the roar sounding different to each man. "Aw, hell!" Ezra turned Chaucer around and saw what caused the exclamation.
"Good lord! Is it worth tryin' for Missus Wells' homestead?"
Vin thought for a moment and looked north, out of their way but where he knew a shack existed. The dark cloud that ominously followed them told of heavy rain. The mud that would be caused by any extended rain would make it nearly impossible to come down from the mount upon which the shack had been built so many years ago.
"We're gonna have ta try."
The two lawmen took off swiftly, giving the horses their head in the immediate, level section of road. They were both aware that about halfway to Nettie's from where their day suddenly took a drastic turn, there was a precarious stretch of the road, rocky and narrow and with a severe drop-off, with a boulder-filled descent to the river. They chose this route rather than the one the stagecoach normally took that avoided this rocky stretch, but they were far too far along to right that course.
The thunder continued, more menacing, the clouds turning darker behind them, the sun's rays dwindling before them, both from the late afternoon and the march of the storm. Chaucer and Peso kept a steady pace on the familiar road, with both horses anticipating the area of most concern. Their men stopped to apply their bad weather gear, what little good it was bound to do should this storm end up as bad as it looked. Raindrops started as both men and beasts navigated the difficult section of the road, no more than a narrow trail now.
By the time they made it through the hardest part of their journey, the skies opened, torrential rains preventing them from making good progress. It also prevented them from going any direction other than their intended one. They were sure that even in this horrible weather they would reach the old rancher's home within the hour.
An hour and a half passed as their pace was slowed by sheets of rain slapping hard the lawmen and their horses, the rain carried to painful effect by the stiff winds. They were ten minutes out when a loud snap from above, barely heard by the gambler, not at all heard by the tracker, had a large branch from a giant cottonwood falling toward the long-haired Texan.
"Vin!" Ezra yelled as he witnessed the looming disaster. The tracker heard the call and, understanding the likely cause of his friend's distressed warning, veered right and to the open field and away from the large stand of cottonwoods that lined the other side of the road. Peso slipped and jostled his rider, who fell unceremoniously on his back, his hip and leg also taking a beating upon landing.
Ezra stepped Chaucer close to his downed partner. As he dismounted, he, like Peso, slipped on the muddy road, his fancy clothes now muddied from top to bottom, and inside his poncho. His head banged on something hard, his vision shifting from sudden shooting stars to blackness and finally resolving to a blurry visual of Chaucer standing protectively over him.
"Vin?" Ezra asked as he turned and crawled over to the man who had fallen from his horse. The rain was relentless, and now that they weren't wallowing in the mud, the pelting rain did its best to cleanse them of the worst of it.
"'m all right," Vin said. The former buffalo hunter's hat was doing little to keep the rain from his wavy locks, now plastered to his cheeks, neck and down his back, evidence of the curls nearly nonexistent.
"You are certain?" the card sharp asked as he felt his head where he had hit it. He pulled his hand away as he reached out for his friend, not noticing the blood on his fingers that the rain quickly washed away.
"Yeah," Vin grumbled. As he tried to stand up in the slippery mud, he yelled in pain and settled back into the water-soaked path. "Hell."
"What is it?" the professional poker player asked. Though he wore his typical flashy clothes, with the drab poncho and the time spent fighting rain and a burgeoning headache, he looked anything but what he took great care to project.
"M' back," the former bounty hunter said.
Ezra looked around to gauge how far they were from the Wells homestead. Ah, right, the cottonwoods. He'd forgotten …
"Maybe you should not move … "
"Jest need help gettin' up, Ezra."
"Vin, Nathan would … "
"We ain't got shelter out here. Nate wouldn't suggest either of us spend any more time in this rain, this mud."
Ezra didn't like it, but he was tired and sore and a little dizzy. And Vin was right. "Stay put while Ah collect Peso. There is no point in you walking to him when he can come to you."
"Thanks."
Vin waited impatiently as Ezra gathered their horses. When he heard them approach just a few minutes after Ezra left to get them, he watched as the Southerner placed Chaucer beside him rather than Peso.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Ezra opened his mouth to answer just as a mighty gust of wind kicked up. He swallowed some rain, coughed from the unexpected gulp from the deluge, then tried again. "Peso has an injury." He coughed and then continued, "He is favoring his left front leg. His cannon seems bruised. Let us get you up on Chaucer and we will pony Peso behind him."
"Yer gonna walk?" Vin asked as Ezra helped him to a standing position.
"It is not far now," the gambler grunted as he helped Vin into the saddle.
"It ain't right."
"Can you walk?" Ezra asked.
Vin looked away, then turned to look down at his fellow lawman. Ezra looked pretty done in himself, but in this weather with the road only getting worse, they couldn't afford to have two lame horses; doubling up was out of the question.
"No," Vin admitted.
"Then let us proceed and get out of this horrid weather."
What both men thought would be ten more minutes easily doubled as Ezra kept Chaucer to a pace that Peso could manage. Once they were within about a hundred feet of Nettie Wells' house, Casey came bounding down the steps, a poncho protecting her from head to foot, as Nettie waited for them under the relative cover of her porch.
"What happened?" the young woman asked as she took possession of Peso. Vin waited for Ezra to answer, but his head was down as he walked unsteadily ahead.
"'s like it looks. Got caught in the storm," Vin answered.
"What about Peso?" she asked.
"Not sure. Got hurt," the former buffalo hunter said. He had become somewhat more verbose now that he was more comfortable with his own language, but today he would stick to a few words if it meant he could get down from Ezra's fine horse and get them both out of the weather. Their horses, too.
"I'll check on him." Casey watched as Ezra kept walking as though he was heading to Four Corners. "Hey, where ya goin'?" she asked the card sharp. Ezra did not answer as he walked, clearly not intending to stop at Nettie's barn, or Nettie's house.
"Ezra!" Vin called. Ezra stopped, turned and looked up at the bedraggled Texan.
"Yes?" he answered.
"We're here."
Ezra looked to his right and at the house. He saw the old rancher looking toward them with concern. "So we are," the fancy dresser said, today's ensemble no longer looking so kempt. He kept Chaucer's reins and turned for the porch. Nettie walked to the far end of her porch, precisely where Ezra was headed.
"Bring 'im over here," she called. There was no railing on that end of the porch. Ezra wondered foggily if that was purposeful or a repair that Vin had not got to just yet.
"Chaucer, be still," the Southerner said as he crossed in front of his horse to get between Vin and the porch. He stood there, doing nothing. He swiped the rain from his face, then felt the growing lump on the side of his head. Chaucer remained still, per Ezra's request.
"Come on down, Vin," Nettie said as she stood looking over at the tracker, and down at the card sharp. "Mr. Standish, jest be ready in case he falls. I can steady him from up here."
"Very well, and please call me Ezra," he replied dully. The former con man stood and watched, hoping that he wouldn't be required to assist. He barely felt that he was keeping his feet as it was. He and the widowed rancher had gotten off on the wrong foot; he wondered if he would be forced to order her to call him by his given name.
"I've got ya," Nettie said. Chaucer remained impressively calm through the entire maneuver of getting the tracker off the horse and steadied in Nettie Wells' arms. "Fancy man, you come on in, now," she called through the pouring rain.
"Mah horse," he said as he headed toward the barn.
"I'll get 'im, Ezra," Casey said. "I put Peso up in a stall already. I'll get Chaucer all cleaned up and then check both of 'em over." She had to speak loudly over the banging of the rain on Nettie's roof and everything else getting battered by the fierce rainfall.
"Ah will assist," Ezra said, though he knew he could not help if he ended up passing out. It was taking all of his willpower to keep from doing just that.
"No ya won't, Ezra Standish. Git yer behind up these steps and in this house," Nettie ordered. Ezra frowned. After years and years of abiding what his mother told him, as well as learning, reluctantly, to follow orders during the war, not to mention working with the likes of one Chris Larabee, following an order was, despite what some would say about him, instinctual. It was no different this day. The added reward of getting out of the miserable weather, and the possibility of warmth and drying out, made this an easy order to obey. He plodded up the steps and followed Vin and Nettie into the cabin.
Ezra stood just inside the threshold as he watched the old woman get a fire started. As severe as the rainstorm was, the temperature outside was holding in the seventies. It was not cold, but Vin and Ezra's drenched clothing and evident injuries no doubt combined to chill both men.
"Come on in and git out of those wet clothes," Nettie said as she started to help Vin remove his soaked garments. Ezra stepped closer to the wood stove, seeking warmth. "It ain't gonna help much if ya stay in that wet poncho and your wet jacket, and everything else that's wet. Git 'em off." Another order. Ezra did not obey this order as, unnoticed by Nettie but clearly observed by Vin, Ezra's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he dropped, boneless, to the floor.
"Ezra!" Vin said as he tried to rise from the chair Nettie had forced him into.
"Stay put. Take off what ya can." The woman who reminded Vin of his long-dead mother stared at him. "All that you can." Then she turned to the prostrate man on her floor.
"He's awake!"
"You don't have to yell, Buck. Nettie's house ain't that big."
"Look, kid, I don't know who made you boss," Buck Wilmington said.
"Nettie and Casey did," J.D. Dunne replied.
"Takin' orders from a woman?" the ladies' man asked.
"Ther're worse people from whom t'take orders, Buck," mumbled the man in the bed
"Hey, he can still talk, though it's kind o' hard to understand ya, Hoss."
Ezra tried to clear his throat, but it seemed some frog had decided to make itself at home there.
"Buck and J.D., clear out."
"But Nettie and Casey put me in charge," J.D. complained.
"And I'm tellin' ya that you can go get Nettie's wagon ready to take these two back to town."
"Nathan said that was all right, old pard?" Chris Larabee stared at Buck without answering. Buck finally conceded and said, "What're ya waiting for, kid. Let's go." The two boys, who pretended to be adults for the rest of the world, left the room. A door banging shut said that they were on their way to the barn.
"Good lord, Chris. Thank you."
"Figured that was the last thing you wanted to hear after finally waking up."
"Yes, about that. Precisely how long have Ah been … not awake?"
"Been in and out 'bout three days," Nettie said as she and Nathan Jackson walked into the bedroom. Nettie's room had been made into a makeshift hospital room. Ezra rested on her bed, though he was unaware of whose comfortable bed he currently rested upon. A makeshift bed made up of piles of blankets sat unoccupied in the corner.
"Why?" the woozy gambler asked. Ezra looked around the room and found Vin in a chair next to his bed. Or, rather, someone's bed.
"Hey. Ya hit yer head. Wish ya'd stop doin' that," Vin said.
"Leave 'im be, Vin," Nettie said. "He ain't supposed to be talkin' and you know it," she scolded.
"Why?" Ezra questioned and immediately coughed. And then the cough became something he could not stop. He coughed and his chest burned, and he coughed some more.
"You got 'im on that side?" Chris asked.
"Yeah," Nathan said, shooing Vin out of the way. "Relax," the healer said. The warmth of the deep voice and the concern he could not deny from the men who held him up in the much easier position for breathing had him calm pretty fast. His breathing slowed and he eased back onto the pillows that had been placed behind him.
"What?" he asked, and that was all he said.
"Took some water into your lungs and you were out of it more than not for nearly twenty-four hours. Nearly got yourself a case of lung fever," Nathan explained.
"But?" Ezra asked.
"This one-word Ezra is something I could get used to," Chris said.
"Funny."
"See?" Chris said to Vin and Nathan, an evil grin on his lips.
"Where are … " The card sharp tried to attempt a sentence but he could feel it was going to turn bad if he continued. He stopped.
"Yer smarter than he looks," Nettie said, rolling her eyes to indicate Chris, who just kept on grinning. "And just because Mr. Larabee is being an ass does not mean you have to help him to that end. You should keep your mouth shut," the old woman said.
"Lovely," Ezra replied, followed by an unexpected and not-at-all worrisome cough.
"You've been here at Nettie's since we got here during that storm," Vin said. "Thanks fer what ya did," he added as he looked away, a distinct look of guilt not at all well-hidden from the man in the bed.
"Vin … Ezra said, but Nathan cut him off.
"Don't worry about him. He's been told, more than once, that nothing that happened was his fault. Unfortunately, that walk was probably your downfall, Ezra," Nathan said. "Not that you had any choice. Vin says you took that big gulp of rainwater, and then you had to have taken in more while you walked to Nettie's and you were likely not breathing so great by then, dizzy, fighting nausea, trying to breathe through the wind and rain."
"I … I had to … "
"Nobody's faulting you for what you did, Ez," Chris said. "You did what you had to do." Ezra nodded and closed his eyes. "Hey," the former gunslinger said as he patted his friend's arm, "don't fall asleep yet. Nate and Nettie have something for you to drink. We'll wait until it makes you tired and then we'll load you in the wagon."
"'m not cargo," Ezra said. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open.
"Drink," Nettie ordered. Ezra obeyed.
An hour later, Ezra and Vin were in the back of the wagon, Nathan watching over both of them. Casey rode Chaucer, a fact about which all of The Seven, and Casey and Nettie and anyone who saw her ride him into town, were and would be sworn to secrecy. J.D. ponied Peso and would accompany Casey back to her home.
"Thanks again, Nettie," Vin said as she stood at the wagon.
"It was my pleasure. You boys always know you're welcome here. I'm glad you came here when you got caught in that storm. You all mean an awful lot to me. I hope he knows," she said as he nodded her head in Ezra's direction.
"He does," Vin said. "And you mean a lot to him, too. I know he don't say it much … "
"He doesn't have to. Some people are verbose when they don't need to be and practically mute when they've got something important to say. I think that's our Mr. Standish," Nettie said.
"Ezrrra," the Southerner said, pulling himself out from his sleep long enough for only that.
"Guess you're right on that," Vin said, remembering the order from Ezra that Nettie hadn't yet obeyed. The tracker smiled, knowing that his two friends were getting there, in their own way, on their own terms.
The End.