Cold Comfort

by DeniseV

Ezra and a cold. He's getting comfort, but it's not uniformly comforting.

"We ain't had this kind of snow in a while."

"That's true enough, kid."

"Right pretty."

"Ah find it appallin' that you gentlemen would find anything good about ridin' through a winter squall."

"I dunno, Ezra. Vin's right. It sure is nice to look at," J.D. Dunne said. His hat, the one that resembled the one worn by his idol Bat Masterson, wasn't giving him much protection from the lightly swirling snow. He still had a smile on his face. Except for his inclination toward a scruffy beard these days, he still wore the baby-face that earned him the moniker his friends had given him three years before and persisted on using to this day, much to the young man's chagrin.

"And this ain't exactly a squall, Ez," Buck Wilmington said as he and his horse took their turn in the front with the gambler, easing the way for the two horses behind who recently completed a turn at the hard work of making a path in the deep snow. There was no significant wind accompanying the fat flakes. The snow was accumulating at a rapid pace, but it fell short of the true definition of squall. Ezra Standish looked to his left and gave the smiling mustachioed man an unhappy glare.

"It's just snow," Vin Tanner added. "It's winter and we got snow." The droll commentary from the tracker had two of his three companions agreeing heartily, completely at Ezra's expense. They had all learned just what buttons to push to get the normally agreeable southerner riled up, and there was little more that riled the man up than being stuck out on the trail in snow. Or rain. Or cold. Or heat. All three of his companions knew that Ezra wasn't feeling well; keeping him riled up was the best way they knew of keeping him moving toward home.

"Ain't ya excited for the kids, Ez? There's bound to be enough snow to build one of them igloos like we did during that last big storm."

Ezra looked to Buck again, silently questioning how getting that much snow didn't qualify as a blizzard, let alone a squall. And he truly didn't get what there was to be so excited about. Buck chuckled, seeing the disdain in the card sharp's eyes, and looked ahead once more.

"Ez?" J.D. asked. "Did ya hear me?" the young easterner called. "Think we can get an igloo done for the kids?"

Ezra wondered what it was that fate had against him that he was stuck with these men going on about the ridiculous whiteout around them on this trek in these increasingly awful weather conditions nearly an hour's ride from home, if they were lucky. And all of this on his birthday. He didn't really care about celebrating such things, but one would think that he might have been able to spend the day as he preferred, comfortably ensconced at his table, winning hand after hand at poker, and treating himself to some of his stash of Kentucky bourbon.

His companions had all three been summoned by Judge Oren Travis to testify at the trial of Alexander Stevenson, the son of a wealthy cattleman who Buck, J.D. and Vin stopped in the middle of robbing the bank in the town of Meredith. Ezra was pre-occupied with a card game and hadn't seen the robbery in progress, but he was the one who, once he heard gunfire and looked around the saloon to see his fellow lawmen had not returned from gathering provisions for their return to Four Corners, ran out to see a man jump onto the nearest horse and hightail it out of town. The professional poker player, happy that the man hadn't selected his horse to steal, jumped on Chaucer and easily caught up to the fleeing robber. The four of them had done their duty, traveled in a light rain the entire way from Four Corners, testified against, as it turned out, a member of a well-known, wealthy and powerful family. Judge Travis originally planned to go easy on the young man, but the combination of the attempted bribe of him before the trial, threats against the lawmen testifying and bad-tempered behavior from the defendant saw the elderly judge sentence the man to ten years in the territorial prison in Yuma. Ten years was a light sentence for the crime of attempted bank robbery, though no one would be able to tell just how lucky the man was by the way the father railed at the jury and the citizens of Meredith and anyone else who would listen outside the town's grain exchange, which had served as the makeshift courthouse. The four members of The Magnificent Seven were more than happy to get on the trail home and away from the small town and its anxieties over putting in jail the son of one so powerful.

"Ezra, J.D. asked you a question," Vin yelled to the two men riding ahead of him.

"Ah … " the gambler started but ended his response quickly with a choked out cough. He brought his hand up to his chest, coughed once more and finally took a good breath.

"Ya all right there, hoss?" Buck asked, frowning toward the card sharp.

"Ah believe … " he began again, but a series of short hacks to clear his throat were necessary before he continued, "Ah may have caught a cold," the southerner said, punctuating the reply with another cough. "It seems talking … " he went on, coughing again, "is exacerbatin' the tick … tickle in mah throat." He coughed once more.

"Maybe you should stop talkin', then," the ladies' man suggested. The wind picked up at that moment and blew Buck's hat back. He grabbed it quickly and returned it to its proper place protecting his head, tightening the wind string closer to his throat.

Ezra offered his best put-upon face. "Pl … Please inform our c … compatriots that Ah …." He coughed again, a rough, barking cough that was painful to hear.

"Stop talkin'. I'll let 'em know."

Ezra's voice had become a near-whisper by the end. He thanked his friend with the tip of his hat and kept his mouth shut for the remainder of the ride, save for bouts of persistent coughing. He'd been trying to keep the cough muffled, but once the cat was out of the bag, there was no longer a need for the subterfuge.

They reached Four Corners in quite a bit longer than an hour's time. The amount of snow on the ground lessened as they grew nearer to their destination. While they removed saddles and tack and performed other tasks to get their horses settled and comfortable, Chris Larabee entered the stable.

"Come to greet us, old pard?" Buck asked tiredly. "That's right nice of ya." He smiled at his oldest friend, but it didn't last long as he saw the look on the former gunslinger's face.

"I wish. We gotta ride."

"We?" Vin asked. "As in all of us?" he added as he looked over to Ezra, who took exactly that moment to let loose with a loud, miserable sounding cough.

Chris grimaced at the pain that the hacking had to have caused. "Guess that's up to Ezra."

"No it ain't," Nathan Jackson countered. The town's healer had more than once worked his magic in keeping the southerner's colds on the right side of pneumonia. He hadn't been successful one time, but now that he knew of the poker player's tendency towards colds - and worse – he knew the one sure way to at least try to nip this one in the bud.

"Ah can do mah … " Ezra coughed, and then added, "share."

"No, Nate's right. You stay here."

Ezra Standish would be lying if he said that he wasn't relieved at being ordered to stay put.

"Why're we heading out?" J.D. asked.

"Jailbreak in Eagle Bend. Everett and Charles Horton," Chris said, looking at Buck.

"You're kiddin'? They were in jail again?" the ladies' man asked. "Slippery sons-of-bitches. I put 'em in jail in Texas and they slipped the law there, too."

"Texas Ranger let them slip through your fingers?" Ezra asked, intending it to come out jokingly. Buck didn't take it that way.

"No, Ezra," Buck answered angrily. "I only brought 'em in to the jail. Wasn't my job to watch 'em."

"Mah a … " Ezra started, intending to apologize, not really sure why he'd bothered with the question. He would have to blame it on feeling like complete shit. He tried to continue the apology, but the coughing was preventing him from getting anywhere.

Nathan shook his head and walked up to his friend. "Ezra, you should stop talking. It's aggravating your cough."

"Well, that's about right 'cause he's aggravatin' me," Buck groused.

"That's enough, from both of you," Chris said. "Just got the telegraph. Sheriff Stains said they were headin' this way. They're not gonna get anywhere headin' toward Carlisle. Had some floodin', now I hear they got snow. They'll be comin' this way."

"We hit a … squall 'bout an hour outta town," the youngest of the law enforcement team said with a big smile as he looked at Ezra. Ezra scowled at him; the smile disappeared pretty quickly when J.D. saw how sick Ezra looked, seeming sicker by the moment. "Sorry, Ez." To Chris he asked, "Is Josiah back?"

"He's not expected until later tonight," Nathan said.

Ezra coughed as the former slave finished his sentence. Nathan stepped over to the gambler and felt his throat, pressed on the visibly swollen glands. "You gonna be all right?" he asked. The healer wasn't even trying to hide his worry over his friend's current physical state.

"Ah assure y … you, Nathan, Ah wi … will survive." The barely-there voice catching on every third word wasn't exactly convincing evidence that Ezra was all right. The gamester smiled and said, "Once the la … ladies of the town h … hear me coughing m … mah way down he ave … avenue, Ah w … will be bo … bombarded by offers to assure m … mah well-bein'."

"And then you'll get to have Josiah play Nathan," Vin said with an evil grin.

"Good l … lord!" the former con man said, knowing that the prospect could indeed be very bad for his mental health, if not for him physically.

"Rest if ya can," Chris said quietly as he rubbed the sick man's back. Ezra moaned softly and leaned back into the touch, as though the careful rubbing somehow soothed. Chris didn't doubt that it did if his friend had suffered that barking cough for any length of time.

"Ah will k … keep an eye on our d … dusty h … hamlet."

"I know ya will, just don't overdo it." Chris gave Ezra one more warm rub on his upper back. He knew that when he had suffered bad colds in his life, the coughing sometimes felt like it was traveling straight to his back and then out to his shoulders. Chris turned to the other men and said, "Ten minutes. Tiny's getting fresh horses ready," and then he walked determinedly out of the livery, apparently tending to a last minute errand or two of his own.

J.D. stepped up to Ezra. "Doesn't look like there'll be enough snow here for much of anything."

"M … Maybe next t … time," the card sharp eked out.

"Maybe. Hope ya feel better, Ez."

"Th … Thank you, M … Mistah Dunne," the southerner said, followed by a bone-rattling cough.

Ezra remained at the livery to see his friends off, even Buck, who he hadn't managed to apologize to. Vin had stepped out to visit Gloria Potter's mercantile for supplies. J.D. saw Casey at the bank and spent his few remaining minutes in town with her. Buck skipped out of the livery as soon as he heard he had ten whole minutes, making the best use that he could of his limited time. No one who knew Buck Wilmington expected him to come back in any way but satisfied. Ezra grinned at the man's reliability, at least where women were concerned.

"Get inside, Ezra. This cold air ain't gonna do you any good," Nathan suggested.

"Ah am h … headin' straight to mah r … room to change into dr … dry cl … clothes," Mistah Jackson.

"All right. Remember, Inez can brew you up some tea with honey and lemon, that'll help soothe your throat through all this coughing."

"Ah know."

"It's better for you than liquor."

"Ah know."

"She also has a stash of that cough medicine from the last time."

"Good l … lord, Nathan. Are y … you looking to kill m …me? That el … elixir is the vilest con … concoction in your h … healer's arsenal."

"It'll help."

Ezra sighed, coughed, then said, "Ah know."

"Water, Ezra. Water's good for ya, too."

"Ah shall become in … intimate with ev … every knot and slit in the w … wood and cr … crooked nail in the pr … privy at this r … rate." Buck returned to the livery at the comment and joined Vin in a heart-felt laugh. They were the only three close enough to hear the faint musings as Ezra seemed well on his way to losing his voice for the foreseeable future.

"Damn shame we're headin' outta town," Buck said. They all knew what he meant, but he'd interrupted Ezra, who decided he would finish what he was planning to say, even though it would hurt, in more ways than one.

"Ah trust you ge … gentlemen," he started, so hard to be heard, even the brush of a sleeve against a saddle interfered with Ezra getting his point across. Buck, Vin and Nathan stopped their preparations and listened to their friend. "Ah h … hope," he began again as J.D. rejoined them, "you w … will be c … careful and w … watch out f … for one an … another."

"Aw hell, Ez, talk about makin' a guy feel bad," Buck said.

"Th … That was n … not mah in … intention. Ah am s … sorry for our qu … quarrel earlier."

"I know," the kind gunman said as he walked up to his friend. He reached over and pulled the gambler into a hug. "We'll take care, but you gotta do the same." He pulled away and looked Ezra in the eyes. "You know you gotta be careful."

"Ah will, but Ah am m … more," he started, turned his head and directed his cough away from the other lawmen, "worried f … for you all. You w … will be c … careful."

"Sure we will, Ezra," the young easterner said as though he had no care of what the next hours might bring. Chris showed up and Ezra watched as his friends saddled up and left town in the opposite direction from where he, Buck, Vin and J.D. had come into town. He walked over to Chaucer, who was being groomed by Tiny personally.

"R … Rest up, mah fr … friend," he said as he rubbed his horse's ear. Chaucer put his head down, and Ezra leaned into the handsome equine's cheek with his own.

"He's a good and loyal horse, Mr. Standish," the liveryman said.

"He … " Ezra started, but was interrupted by several long moments of hacking, followed by more of catching his breath. He was finally ready to finish what he was trying to say. "He is the b … best there is."

"You head on inside. I will take good care of him."

"Ah know. Thank you." It was a quiet mid-afternoon with most of the rental horses out in the paddock or rented. If the stable had been full of horses, there would have been no way for Tiny to have heard the faint utterance from the gambler.

Ezra walked slowly toward the saloon. The coughing was sapping him of his strength and, in a most disturbing manner, stealing his breath. Casey Wells ran up to him as he was mid-cough.

"Ezra, are you all right?" she asked worriedly. And thus began the interruption after interruption that would keep delay his return to his room and keep him in wet clothes. He appreciated the concern, but could they not see that they were not helping? His gentlemanly ways would prevent him from saying anything to them. It was a good thing that his training included the ability to plaster on a poker face at a moment's notice.

"Ah am f … fine, Miss Wells. Just a c … cold." His voice was still there, but one needed to be as close and as attentive as Casey currently was in order to hear him. Between the catch in his throat after just a couple of words and the coughing and growing ever nearer to no voice at all, he wasn't surprised that she challenged him. It was, after all, the nature of the Wells women.

"I think you're full of it. Do you want me to help you?" she demanded. Ezra hoped the girl was in town without her aunt. He knew that he could talk his way around Casey Wells, but he wouldn't have stood a chance in hell going against Nettie.

"Ah am fine. Ah am h … heading to mah r … room. Thank y … you for your co … concern."

"Yer sure?"

"Yes." He stopped at that because he felt a bad cough coming on.

"All right. Feel better," she said, and then trotted off toward her horse which was still tied out in front of the bank. Ezra kept walking, and the cough finally made its way out. He stopped, not realizing that he'd stalled across the street from the mercantile. He took a breath, feeling more out of breath every time a bad stretch of coughing hit, and looked up … and found Gloria Potter marching purposefully his way. "Hell," he said softly, even though he needn't have bothered keeping it quiet and nobody would likely have heard it. His payment for remaining quiet? More coughing.

"Mr. Standish, what on earth happened?" the widow asked.

"Ah h … have a c … cold."

"Let me help you to your room."

"No. Ah am f … fine. Ah am g … goin' directly there."

"Are you sure? You don't look good, and you sound terrible. Are you sure it's not more than a cold?"

"Ah am. Ah ap … appreciate your c … concern, but you h … have a business to r … run." A sudden wind blew up the avenue. Ezra grabbed his hat, Gloria pressed her skirt down, and then Ezra trembled.

"You're freezing," she said as she touched first his jacket, and then felt inside his jacket to find the vest and his shirt cold and wet.

"Ah have j … just come from Mer … Merideth." The wind kicked up again as the skies grew dark and gray. "There was se … severe snow ab … about an hour out."

"We need to get you out of those clothes."

"Ah am on mah way," he said more forcefully. It was nice that the ladies of the town wanted to help him, but there was nothing better that they could do to force him over the line and into pneumonia than to continue to delay him in getting to his destination. Ezra realized what he could do to get her to move on and stop impeding his progress. "Would you k … kindly, at your leisure, pr … prepare some of your chi … chicken soup? Ah believe Mi … Mistah Jackson would th … think it a f … fine remedy."

"Well, it is that." She assessed him carefully. "Are you sure you can make it to the saloon all right."

"Ah can. Thank you."

"Very well. It will be a couple of hours."

"Ah will be ch … changed, dry and r … rested when you arrive." Not necessarily hungry, or awake, but you can't have everything.

"All right. I will see you later."

"Thank you. Ah w … would refrain fr … from kissing you w … with this illness b … bein' so contagious."

"Oh, please," she said as she enveloped him in a hug. "With all of the people in and out of the shop, I'm either going to get sick or I'm not. Now shoo."

He smiled at her as she headed back across the main street of their small town. He wasn't too far from his final destination, but another terrible coughing attack had him leaned against a post in front of the hardware store. He took a few moments to catch his breath; it was no good how it seemed to be harder and harder to do. When he finally pulled his tired head up to look toward the next building – the saloon, and his room above it – he took a step before actually focusing … and found Mary Travis directly in his path.

"Good h … heavens, mah dear. For … forgive me," the gentleman from the south said. The coughing began again. It was getting worse. He turned away from the newspaper publisher and quickly pulled out his handkerchief to cover his mouth.

"Chris and Nathan told you to stay behind?" she asked as she put her arm through his and walked with him to the saloon. To anyone looking on, it would appear that Ezra was doing the gentlemanly thing in escorting the town leader to her next destination.

"You w … were one of M … Mistah Larabee's l … last stops be … before leaving?"

"Yes."

"Ah h … have no doubt that m … mah c … coughing would have her … heralded our pr … presence to the mi … miscreants," he said, his throat catching, his cough persistent and his breaths hardly worthy of their definition. "Ah would not h … have wanted to jeopar … dize Mistah Larabee's life or … "

"I don't think that was what he was worried about."

"You don't?" he asked in less than a whisper.

"No, I don't. Not at all. Inez and I will get you something to eat."

"M … Missus Travis, Ah am n … not …"

"I know. You're not hungry. Well, since I know how these things progress and that you will be feeling worse before you start to feel better, you will eat a little something, have some soothing tea, and get to bed," the knowing mother of a young boy said. Ezra might not feel like eating, but he would need to have something in his stomach before he adamantly refused to eat. There was no doubt that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, if he even ate then. He was not a morning meal person, just like he was not a morning person.

"Ah cannot w … watch over the town fr … from mah bed," the former con man protested.

"Robert's here. He can cover for you until Josiah returns," the pretty woman insisted.

Ezra didn't like it, and he didn't want to let Chris or the town down, but damned if he even had the strength to make it up to his room without some help. And then there was the effort of divesting himself of his armaments, and then the undressing, which he could only do partially so that he would be ready when he was needed. It all seemed unbearably difficult at the moment. He moved his hand to rub the growing ache between his eyes and found his face damp with sweat. He felt two hands grasp him tighter on his left arm as he tripped over his own feet.

"You have a fever," Mary said with concern. He knew that his friends worried about him when he came down with a cold. For some reason, his constitution was just not cut out for anything that threatened his lungs. He knew he should go straight to bed, and he would if he wasn't leaving the town with just one peacekeeper, a sometime one at that.

"Ah do," the gambler replied. Nothing came out, though, at least nothing that Mary would have been able to hear. He cleared his throat and tried to raise his voice when he said again, "Ah do." It brought on a series of coughs.

"Yes, you do." Once Ezra had caught his breath, they once again started walking, and entered the saloon. As they reached the bar, Mary asked, "Inez, can you come up to Mr. Standish's room?" The dark-haired Mexican barkeep, and Ezra's on-again flame, looked worriedly at the southerner.

"Madre di dios," she said.

"Not really," Ezra noted tiredly. "Señorita Rocios, c … come up once Ah h … have h … had a chance to speak w … with Mistah Merton."

"Ezra," Mary said, clear warning in her tone that she would not allow him too much leeway between what he was doing now and the amount of time it would take him to be lying comfortably in his bed.

"Ah simply w … wish that he un … understands when Mi … Mister Sanchez is due b … back, where the others are, a … and that A … Ah am a … available, if n … needed." If Mary hadn't been standing right in front of him, watching him speak, she would have no idea what he had said.

"I agree with all but the last part." Ezra started to respond, but the newspaperwoman stopped him. "You might as well quit talking. A person would need to be able to read lips to understand you right now." She ended her instruction with a satisfied smile.

"Really?" he asked.

"What was that you said?" she asked.

"Amusing," the con man said.

"I still can't hear … " she was interrupted by a resigned sigh from her sick companion, and then a brutal cough. He placed his hand up against his chest in an effort to soothe the pain of the abuse. He had to concede that his ability to effectively communicate had been stolen from him by the wretched cold. Mary looked back to her worried friend at the bar and said, "Give us twenty minutes."

"Very well," Inez replied.

"He should have a small meal," the striking blonde said. "And some tea."

"With lemon and honey," Ezra tried to say.

"I think he said 'with lemon and honey', but he's a little hard to understand right now." Ezra growled his frustration, which only succeeded in bringing on more coughing. "Hmm. Funny, but I think I heard you snarl at me," Mary said lightheartedly. She had learned long ago that the best way to get these men to do what they needed to recover from illness and injury was to not coddle them, to not force recuperation down their throats. Giving in to Ezra a little now would gain Mary and Inez much as they worked through bringing the gambler back to health. Inez laughed along with Mary; she had been snarled at more than once by her man … sometimes in a good and very hot way. She went about her business as she stepped through her plans for the rest of the day with her back-up bartender, Henry.

Mary started up the stairs with the card sharp.

"Ah do n … not re … require an esc … escort," Ezra complained.

"I think you do. And I'm only walking you to your room. Then I'll go get Robert and you can have your chat."

"Thank you," Ezra said, meaning it. He wasn't going to admit to her exactly how wobbly he felt, and he appreciated that Mary kept her tongue about owning that knowledge anyway.

"I'll leave Inez to undress you," Mary said with evident delight.

"So kind," he said, as loudly and as sarcastically as he could. He thought he only mouthed the next part. "Mistah L … Larabee is either a saint or a gl … glutton for punishment." His ears were failing him as much as his lungs, apparently, based on what Mary Travis said next.

"I heard that."

"Oh. Mah hearing must be diminished," he said, his ill-health and increasingly bad mood preventing him from doing the gentlemanly thing and offer an apology.

Mary extended a sympathetic smile. "Good night. I hope you feel better."

"It is n … not n … night."

The widow and single mother, though maybe not for too much longer, shook her head and left Ezra in the hallway in front of the door to his room. The southern gentleman watched her until he could no longer see her as she made the turn at the landing. On any other day, verbal sparring with the likes of an intelligent and far-more-clever and amusing woman than he'd ever expected would result in welcome delight, but today, with the way he was feeling, it was quite plainly fatiguing beyond any words that he could no longer voice.

He drew his key from his pocket and reached to insert it in its proper place, but missed the keyhole complete. "Hell," he mumbled hoarsely. He grabbed the door knob with his left hand and then guided more from memory than from seeing straight, the key into the slot. Upon entering the room, he headed straight for his bed and sat down heavily. He coughed and remained seated, waiting for Robert Merton's arrival, when all he really wanted was to place his head on his soft down pillow.

This was the position Robert found him in. The rancher and occasional eighth member of the law enforcement group in his town could see as he walked down the hall that the door to the gambler's room was open. He stepped to the threshold carefully, looked in and saw Ezra sitting on the bed, his head slightly drooped, his eyes seemingly closed.

"Ezra?" he asked before placing himself fully in the path of a possible bullet. "It's Robert."

The former con man raised his head and called, "C … Come in," followed by a long session of coughing, at the end of which he was clearly out of breath.

"That doesn't sound good," the highly-regarded businessman said.

"No," the ill man agreed. Robert understood what was said, though nothing actually came out of Ezra's mouth that he could hear.

"Mary said you wanted to see me."

"Y … Yes," Ezra scratched out tiredly.

"All right." It was two words spoken in a manner that told the gambler that his newest friend in town had had about enough. "How 'bout you just listen while I tell you what I know." Ezra blinked slowly and nodded. "The fellas, 'cept you and Josiah, are out trackin' the Horton brothers. The preacher's due back from the reservation later tonight. You're worried about payback from Stevenson senior." Ezra's eyes grew large at that. He hadn't told anyone of his worry over exactly that possibility. "Chris and I talked, I sent a telegram to the judge. Mary said he was still in Meredith. He said not to worry, that the father chose to try to shoot Travis but he, the sheriff and a couple of other citizens who were fed up with the man thinking he owned the place, all pulled their weapons. He's dead. The boy is goin' to prison. The widow Stevenson is moving back east, so that's a done deal." Ezra nodded, satisfied that there was nothing more he needed to worry about with that situation. Robert wasn't finished. "You're sick and you're gonna get in bed and stop worryin' because I can cover for ya 'til Josiah gets here, and then we'll both cover the town together until the boys get back."

Ezra blinked tiredly. That was everything he would have said if he could have said it. He sighed, which brought on another cough, and understood that the town would be far better served right now with Robert Merton at the helm of the ship. The rancher saw the moment of concession in Ezra's eyes, in his body language.

"The townsfolk would want you to take care of yourself.

Ezra looked up. "Un … Until miscreants a … attempt to rob the b … bank."

"That's my job to worry about today."

"Ah c … could certainly assist."

Robert smiled. "I know. I appreciate the back-up and I will call for you if I need to." Ezra nodded his head. Robert walked up to the bed, placed his hand on the sick man's shoulder and said, "Your job for the next couple of days is to listen to the ladies, at least until Nathan gets back. They want to help. And I've got three kids at home that're gonna be damned upset that they won't be able to enjoy your company."

"Y … You must k … keep them aw … away."

"That's not what I meant. You need to get better for them if you're not gonna think of yourself. You know, Ezra, it's bad enough that we can't keep a schoolteacher in this town; you're the person who keeps my kids and everyone else's interested in their studies." He sat down next to his ill friend and added, "Abigail and I can't express how much we appreciate what you do." Ezra turned to look into Robert's face. He smiled, attempted to speak, but only a cough came out. He turned his face away quickly, feeling the aches spreading; it was no longer just his throat and his head that was vexing him. Robert reached around the gambler's back, squeezed his shoulder, and said, "I'm sending Miss Rocios up." Ezra nodded his head again and watched as his replacement left his room.

Less than ten minutes later, the familiar tap-tap-tap of the Mexican beauty heralded her arrival. She stepped in, closed the door, and set the basket she carried beside the bed.

"Ah do n … not th … think you sh … " he started. What he ended with Inez could guess but could not hear.

"Enough. We have been intimate enough for long enough for both of us to know that I never catch anything from you." She saw the smile begin on his handsome face and added, "I never catch your illnesses." He chuckled and then coughed, hard. "Serves you right." She started to remove his jacket, but he shrugged and pushed her hand away.

"Ah … " he began, coughed, and then tried to continue, "c … can …." Again, no sound followed as he tried to finish the thought.

"What? You can get ready for bed? Then go ahead." She stood back, her hands on her shapely hips, watching and waiting and not nearly patiently.

Ezra snorted a laugh, coughed, then said, "You a … are a p … poet."

"I only understood what you said because I was looking at you as you spoke. Talking is only hurting you. Why do you persist?"

Ezra's eyes grew wide. "G … Good w … word."

"Oh, cállate!"

"No estoy desnudando," Ezra countered.

"Sí es usted," Inez insisted.

"No."

"Sí."

The former con man sighed, which was a mistake as it started a series of coughs that left him breathless, and not in the way the beautiful woman currently harassing him usually left him breathless.

"Estúpido," the angry beauty from south of the border said. She knelt before her basket, found a brown vial, and then fished further, pushing things around, reiterating, in Spanish, how highly she currently felt about the man in the bed, finally finding what she sought. She poured the elixir into the spoon. "Open." Ezra kept his mouth shut. "Open your mouth," she demanded. Again, the ill man refused. "Why are you acting like a child?"

"T … Tastes … "

"Madre de dios! Of course it tastes terrible. You still must take it."

"No."

Inez Rocios was not someone to be trifled with, and she knew that her lover was aware of that. She leaned toward the southerner, placed her hand on his forehead, tsked at the warmth that she felt there … then quickly grabbed his ear, pinching it while pulling up on it. Ezra opened his mouth with a silent yell, and Inez forced the cough syrup into his mouth. She used her non-spoon-wielding hand, formerly latched onto his ear, to hold his lips shut while she yanked the spoon out of his mouth, the metal knocking against a few teeth on the way out. His eyes, glassy with illness, grew dark, a dark green that Inez usually only saw in the throes of passion, but at this moment only reflected anger. He started to cough, but she could tell it was not for real and forced a glass of water to his lips. He took the glass from her hand and downed it in an effort to rid the nasty taste from his mouth. Once he finished, he pushed the glass into her breasts.

"E … Evil," he said.

"Practical," she countered. He sat there, breathing too rapidly. "Slow down your breathing." He knew that he should so he followed her direction.

"Ah d … don't want to b … be s … sick." She sat down beside the gambler and pulled his warm head down to her bosom.

"The sooner you rest, the sooner you will get better." He sighed, then coughed. "Mr. Sanchez will be back any time, and Mr. Merton is watching the town. You do not have to worry."

"Are y … you certain?" he asked wearily, only barely audible.

"Estoy seguro."

"All right," Ezra finally conceded, exhausted from his battle with Mexico.

"Can you undress yourself?" she asked. He raised his head and looked at her.

"No," he said, an eyebrow raised, an attempt at a lascivious leer falling amusingly flat.

"Ha! Don't be ridiculous. You will be asleep in four minutes."

"N …Not if Ah h … have a good rea … reason t … to st … stay a … awake." Her loud laughter made him jump. He knew that anyone in the saloon could hear her mirth, as well as anyone outdoors within the vicinity of the drinking establishment. The walls were very thin, he could vouch for that in the heart of the cold winters and the heat of the desert summers. He was mortified. Maybe the citizens of the town wouldn't recognize her distinctive laughter. No, there wasn't much hope of that. Inez hadn't much to laugh at when she first arrived in the dusty frontier town, or for that period after Maude Standish left, and left behind her disgruntled son. Things had begun to change about a year ago. Inez and Ezra spoke more often, at first about the saloon, soon enough about other things. They spent hours after closing the saloon most nights talking, laughing. The gambler could not get enough of the laugh and came prepared to their after-hours still-platonic rendezvous to make her laugh as much as possible. What had begun as a tentative friendship easily, miraculously blossomed into so much more. No, the people who knew them well and heard that laugh would recognize precisely what brought it on.

By the time Ezra had finished privately reminiscing of the timeline of their romance, Inez had gotten all but his pants and lower undergarments off.

"I need you to remove the rest of those wet clothes," she said. He stood obediently and let her remove them.

"Ah n … need dry cl … clothes." His weariness had him back sitting on the bed, naked, shivering faintly.

"I have a dressing gown for you."

"No. Ah n … need to be dr …. dressed."

"Yes, yes. I will get you another set of clothes, but put this on," she said as she took a wet cloth and cleaned his face, neck and chest of the accumulated sweat from his long day in the saddle and his ongoing fever. She followed quickly with a soft, fluffy towel, one of those Ezra had absconded with from his mother's time as hotel proprietor. "So you don't catch a chill," Inez added. She had the gown over his head before he could protest further.

"T … Too late," he mumbled.

Inez reached for the basket and pulled out a large metal mug, covered in several napkins. "Drink this," she said. It was just barely still warm, but it still felt good going down.

"H … Honey and l … lemon."

"That is the last of the lemon, at least until next month's delivery, though we don't usually get many lemons in February and March." She placed a napkin that hid something inside of it onto his lap.

"The honey will do." Ezra knew the napkin hid food. "Ah am not hungry."

"They are Señora Wells' sweet butter buns," she said with a knowing smile on her face.

"Well, as you and Mis … Missus Travis s … said, Ah should eat so … something." Ezra opened the napkin and found three of the small delicacies. He knew that would be all he could eat, but this particular pastry was one of his favorites. Inez sat beside him as he finished his last bun, brushing his hair back from his forehead, running her fingers through the soft, damp locks, offering a calming massage to his scalp that she knew from experience would help to soothe his headache. Ezra closed his eyes and yawned.

"You are tired. Lay back and sleep."

"Ah need t … to change. To be r … ready."

"We will do this," Inez started, her eyes full of sympathy. She loved him, though neither one of them were all that much for saying it. They didn't talk about it; they'd both suffered hurts in their pasts. Neither was superstitious, despite the fact his profession – not the law enforcement one – and her culture both encouraged such behavior. They just didn't want to risk the good thing that they had, so despite how much they talked together in the lead-up to their changed, flourishing relationship, they weren't much for speaking of it. She continued, "I will go down and work until Señor Sanchez arrives. That will be about two hours. And then I will come up and help you get dressed. Señor Merton can take care of the town for the next two hours."

Ezra's eyes had closed as he listened to the familiar sing-song of Inez' accent.

"Ah suppose … " he started, but he immediately lost his train of thought. He blinked, looked up at Inez, smiled, though not a true 'Ezra Standish in love' smile that his friends had gotten used to seeing of late, but the kind of smile the card sharp used due to necessity. Inez could tell that Ezra was not really aware of much that was going on around him at the moment. He had fought a good fight, but his heart and his head had lost this battle to the rest of his body.

"Lay back," Inez ordered. He did. She pulled the gown down over his torso, and other areas that she'd had the good fortune to explore … and more, then pulled the sheet and quilt up over her lover. She took the soft throw from the foot of the bed and positioned it up close to his neck and then along his body to a little below his knees. Ezra began sleep on his back, something that he had done even before the two of them had become an item and ended many an evening of coupling in sated exhaustion, spooned up close to one another, but even when sex was not in the picture, Ezra always ended up on his side, with his legs pulled up at the knee. That was something that the pretty Mexican had certainly encouraged; she was more than happy to feel the evidence of his manhood inch its way to readiness beneath her buttocks, anticipated fulfillment reaching farther through her legs obvious even when he was asleep. In this position, in his current condition, the warmth of the soft wool throw would satisfy in a different way.

"Inez," he whispered. He had felt certain that after the tea his voice would manage better than it did.

"Yes."

"Remember, when Josi … ." He fell asleep mid-sentence. He coughed softly, but did not wake himself up.

"Thank goodness," the pretty, and pretty exhausted woman said. "So difficult," she added affectionately. Inez remembered, nearly three years before, that she had been amused by Maude Standish even if she was disturbed with how the woman treated her only son. She had been impressed by Maude's business sense, but mostly her initial impressions of the woman were informed by her gratitude at being hired to manage the now-former Standish Tavern. But as she'd grown closer to Ezra she found little about Maude that was worthy of admiration. That this man whom she held so dear had been damaged so severely by his mother's parental skill, more like neglect and a twisted sense of right and wrong, was painfully obvious in how he pushed away help when sick, often would ignore injury, risking infection or further hurt, and many times flat out lie about being sick or injured. He still would not seek help from his friends when he was in trouble, not without persistent urging from her, and even then it was not guaranteed that he would listen. And he nearly always kept his non-physical pain to himself. All of these things added up to this dance between the two, a frustrating back and forth made manifest by Ezra's true first line of defense in such situations: denial and deception. But she adored the man, and that would keep her at the hard work of helping him overcome the distrust and the misunderstanding.

"At least I was not forced to lie to you about waking you up when Señor Sanchez returns," Inez said in a hushed tone, knowing that he was sleeping deeply enough not to hear. "At least not until later," she added in a whisper. She turned the oil lamp down low, gave her friend and lover one more sad smile, offered a quiet, "Feliz Cumpleaños," and left the room.

---

His back hurt like, well, like he'd taken over Vin Tanner's body. He was laying on his back, which needed to change immediately. He opened his eyes, or he tried to, but that seemed a near impossibility, as though he hadn't had them open for days. It didn't matter, though, whether or not he could see. He simply had to move. He tried to roll over onto his left side, the side he usually slept on, but made no progress. Good lord! He tried again and murmured, "What?" as he attempted more urgently to get his body into a different position.

"Hold on." Nathan. That was good, having the healer nearby was good when his body felt like this. But what had transpired to put him in the clinic? And when did Nathan replace the lumpy mattress with something that felt nearly as comfortable as his feather bed? It was a shame, really, that he couldn't enjoy the mattress more as every muscle in his body ached. Had he suffered a beating at the hands of another disgruntled poker opponent, or fallen down a ravine, fallen from his horse? Chaucer.

"Chaucer?"

"Chaucer's fine." Chris? It sounded like their leader.

"He's a little confused. Been out of it a little too long with fever. Fever broke earlier today."

"Nathan?"

"Yeah, it's me," the healer said as he concentrated more on his patient. "I know you been tryin'," he went on, "but how 'bout you really get those eyes open this time?"

"Could you help … me off o' mah … back? It's achin' like the fires of Hades have settled there." He was out of breath once he finished, but somehow he thought that it seemed a better effort than he'd been doing of late. He thought that, but his ability to remember much of anything was suspect, and his back …

"He's soundin' better," J.D. said from someplace where he would never be able to turn his head at the moment. Nathan and Chris moved Ezra onto his side.

"Thank you. Mah back will be forevah grateful." He blinked his eyes, the lids seeming impossibly heavy, then rubbed them and then saw Chris and Nathan on the left side of his bed, in the direction he now faced.

"What's goin' on?" he asked as he kept his eyes more closed than open.

"Good to have ya back, Ezra."

A door opened and closed as the southerner said, "Have Ah been away, Mistah Larabee?" His voice was weak and rough with disuse.

"Only in la-la land, hoss."

"Ah do not b'lieve mah aches are the result of time abed, Mistah Wilmin'ton." Ezra looked to Nathan with a quizzical frown. "Are they?"

"No. Well, partly. You don't remember?"

Ezra put his hand to his head, grimaced at the feel of his dirty, sweaty hair. He rubber his forehead and then used his knuckles to rub lightly at his eyes, and finally wiped his hand down his face, feeling the unpleasantness of at least a two-day growth of beard.

"Ah remembah … " he started. He looked confusedly from one to the next of his four partners in crime prevention. He let out a frustrated sigh, coughed slightly, and said, "Ah do not remembah." Buck and J.D. offered assorted explanations for why that might be, and then began arguing between themselves about what made most sense.

Nathan checked the recovering poker player's forehead and then his throat, leaned in with a 'Sssh' to the room and listened to Ezra's lungs, having the patient breathe in and out several times to make sure the lungs weren't hiding anything worrisome.

"You developed a high fever, which I'm thinkin' ain't related to your cold, but it broke so we'll just keep an eye that it doesn't come back. Between your fever, that nasty cold and your exhausted state, seems like maybe your body decided to call it quits for a while." Nathan handed Ezra a glass of water. "Drink this. You've only had a few sips of water each of the last three days."

Ezra tried to sit up but found he had no strength. "Let me help ya there, Ez," Buck said. He took the glass and handed it back to Nathan. Chris placed a couple of pillows behind him as the compassionate ladies' man held him up.

"How's your back?" Nathan asked. He gave Ezra the glass once more.

"Happier than it was." He downed the water quickly. "Lord, Ah was parched. Have Ah been asleep for three entire days? It most assuredly feels like Ah could be down a week's worth of fluids." He coughed and took that moment to turn away from the healer, as though that would distract the man from noticing the cough that still lingered. He took a look around and understood now why the bed he lay in felt like his own. He sighed as he lay back into the pillows – his down pillows - happy that the action hadn't brought on another cough.

"You've been only half awake a couple o' times," Nathan explained. He stopped briefly as Vin joined them in Ezra's room. The healer continued, "We were lucky to get what little water we could into you. And then there was the sleepwalking."

"The sleepwalking? Ah do not sleepwalk."

"You sleepwalked right over to the chamber pot," the former slave informed his patient.

"Ah trust mah aim was bettah than your average sleepwalker." No one answered or laughed, a clear signal to the observant former con man that something was amiss. "Do Ah want to know what happened?"

"Nothin' happened," Vin said a little too quickly.

"No, somethin' happened." None of his friends seemed inclined to talk. "Ah have to assume from this so … sober silence," Ezra said, a cough working its way out, "that whatevah Ah did was humiliatin', to both mahself and one of you fine gentlemen. For that, Ah am truly sorry." He could not hide the fact that he was still not well, the coughing more pronounced the more he spoke. The accompanying embarrassment he felt when he was sick was something he was more than familiar with. No matter how many times he was told how ridiculous it was for him to feel that way when he was ill, it was a feeling he had no way to stop when it hit. It was just one more remnant of growing up with a mother who showed nothing but disdain and discomfort at being forced to care for a sick child.

"Ezra, it wasn't that bad," Chris assured his recovering friend.

"But it was something that Ah did? Were you the one … " the gambler started to ask, but he could see from the look on Chris' face that he was. "Ah am mortified at what it might have been. Mistah Larabee … "

"Can ya call me Chris? You're callin' Vin Vin now."

"Good lord. You gentlemen will have me broken of all of mah gentlemanly manners … "

"That ain't gonna happen," Vin said. "We ain't askin' ya to call everyone you meet by their first names. Just your friends."

"Well, as Ah have said to Vin, it is a lifetime of learnin' … "

"I don't know, Ez. I'm havin' a hard time believin' that you were taught to call your friends 'mister'."

"No, that is true." Ezra seemed disturbed as he added, "It is much more like Ah nevah learned what it was to have friends. Ah … Ah don't know quite what Ah should do sometimes. Ah don't know how Ah have deserved such good fortune to be among you fine men. And that Ah have done something to embarrass one of you so terribly … "

"J.D., Buck, Vin … out," Chris ordered. They all swiftly followed their leader's instructions as each in turn offered, 'Glad you're feelin' better', 'Don't argue with Nathan, now,' and finally, 'Glad yer lookin' better, Ezra.'

"Mistah Larabee?" Chris cocked his head, telling the southern 'gentleman' that he'd best correct his address before he would get any answers. They had all learned to read each other's body language well over the last years, but they each learned the tells of their most volatile member soonest, a self-preservation tactic if ever there was one. "Chris?"

"You were outta your head with fever, Ez. And Nate called it sleepwalking, but it wasn't nothin' like when Adam … well, anyway, you had to 'go', your coordination was not as solid as your insistence that you 'had to go'. For a man who'd been talkin' gibberish for longer than a day you were able to make yourself clear about that." Ezra watched in humiliated anticipation of what was to come. "So I … um … aimed for you."

"You 'aimed' for me? You touched mah …?"

"How the hell else do ya think it works?" Chris asked in frustrated embarrassment. Ezra looked toward Nathan, who got caught with a grin on his face but quickly looked away.

"Ah don't know. Ah guess exactly as Ah'm picturin'." Chris stared at his friend, not about to let Ezra think that what he'd done wasn't exactly what needed to be done. Ezra averted his eyes, briefly, but came immediately back to the leader of The Seven. "As horrified as Ah am upon hearin' this, Ah can only imagine what you must be feelin'."

Chris verbalized what his refusal to look away had apparently not gotten across to his thick-headed friend. "I'm feeling like I helped a friend in need, that's all."

Ezra looked down and fiddled with a thread on his blanket. He started to speak, coughed unexpectedly, and then finally said, "It was more than decent of you, Chris."

"It's fine."

"And allow me to say that Ah would give nearly anything Ah have to have been able to witness that." The two men heard a snort of laughter from the healer. Chris and Ezra stared at each other, Chris' expression serious, annoyed, Ezra's holding firm on not allowing the grin that was threatening to show. Finally, neither man could hold back their grins … and then robust laughter ensued, Ezra's punctuated by another cough. And then another. The coughing went on longer than any of the three men in the room liked, but especially Ezra. His head was down, coughing away from his friends, his hand on his sore chest.

"Ya'all right?" Chris asked. Ezra nodded, deciding that a slight break from talking was probably in order.

"Buck has been all over my ass to find out what exactly I did to help. J.D. and Josiah don't know nothin' … they don't care. Vin figured it out."

"Of course he did," Ezra noted wryly, his voice showing the workout his traitorous body had been subjecting it to. The card sharp yawned.

"You wanna sleep more or do ya want something to eat?" Nathan asked. His friend needed both of those things to continue his recovery.

"Ah could eat a little somethin'." Ezra yawned again. "Goodness, forgive me."

"I'll head over and get us both some food," Nathan said.

"What time izzit?" Ezra asked, his voice slurred with weariness.

"Near suppertime. You ain't eaten in days, you gotta be hungry."

"Ah am feelin' hungry, but there is little point to bringing too much, though Ah could eat pie."

Nathan and Chris laughed. "Did you eat?" the healer asked the former gunslinger.

"Yeah, but I could eat pie," Chris replied, grinning.

"I'll be back soon." Nathan left the room, a wide and relieved smile on his face.

Ezra blinked tiredly, though he had to admit that it was not the crushing fatigue of a few days ago. "Ah trust that the Hortons were apprehended?"

"You're remembering some of it?" Chris asked.

"Most of it. Ah suspect it was just a mattah of time that mah mind would begin to function. The Hortons?" Ezra finished the outlaws' name through a yawn.

"Yep, we got 'em. Vin said they were the worst he'd ever seen tryin' to hide their trail."

"What does one gain with the impressive ability to break out of jail when one knows nothing of how to stay hid?" The gambler's ability to be heard was heading downhill, his voice nearly a whisper once again.

"Ain't that the truth? They've been caught eight times, escaped seven. Hopefully this one will stick," Chris said.

"They are back in the Eagle Bend jail?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Probably will be number eight gettin' out."

"C'est la vie," Ezra eked out.

"That's a fact," Chris agreed.

"Josiah returned safely?"

"Look, Ez, there was no need for you to get out of your sickbed with Robert watchin' the town and Josiah showin' up on time." Chris frowned, realizing that he had gone just a little too far with his explanation.

"Ah … " Ezra started, but Chris cut him off.

"She did exactly what I would have."

"Yes."

"But you're still mad at her."

Ezra cleared his throat in the hopes of getting his point across, loud enough to make it worth the considerable effort that continuing to talk was becoming.

"Ah am. Ah did not b'lieve what Ah asked was so much that the request could not be accommodated."

"Well, it's your decision whether to stay mad at Inez. You were practically unconscious for two whole days, Ezra. I'd say she made the right call."

"Ah suppose that is true."

"It is. Nate's been worried that you might develop pneumonia. Ain't hardly left your side since we got back, though to be fair the ladies seemed to do a lot to keep that from happening."

Ezra furrowed his brow in confusion. "The ladies?"

"Yeah. Robert said he assured you that the ladies would watch over you while he and Josiah watched the town." Ezra put his hand over his eyes and shook his head. "What's wrong?"

"Ah had hoped the memory of women bathing me was simply a more-than-pleasant dream."

Chris knew that Mary Travis was one of those women. He wasn't sure he cared for the image he had of Ezra, nearly naked, with Mary running a dripping wet cloth over his friend's chest. It was good, though, that all of the ladies of the town took their responsibility of taking care of the sick lawman seriously enough that Josiah and Robert were both able to take care of the town and let Ezra have the rest he needed.

"You didn't see any faces in your 'dream'?" the former gunslinger asked, placing a querulous emphasis on the last word.

"Strangely, no. But as you said, Ah was out of mah head with fever."

Chris saw what looked suspiciously like a happy smile cross the former con man's visage before he quickly set his poker face back in place. He rested heavily into the pillows, coughed, and closed his eyes. Chris walked to the window and watched for Nathan's return. It was obvious that talking was exacerbating Ezra's cough. He didn't need that and the longer Chris talked, the longer Ezra did. It was like a damned competition with the man. Nathan showed up about a half an hour after he'd left. Chris reckoned he'd stayed down in the saloon, enjoying a drink with the other fellas. The tall blond headed to the door and opened it as he heard footsteps at the other side.

"He's sleepin'," he said quietly.

Nathan looked to his patient. "He'll want to eat, then we can get some tea in him and get him back to sleeping."

"He's over the worst?"

"I think so." Chris took the tray and placed it on Ezra's dresser. "Vin's waiting on the pot of coffee. He's gonna bring everything else."

Chris laughed. "Vin found out there'd be pie?"

"Ah … " Ezra started, cleared his throat, and then continued, "Ah do not believe our intrepid tracker needs bein' told of pie," he said as he awoke from his short nap. "Ah have no doubt that Vin," he went on as the man in question entered the room, "could trace the location of such a delicacy from here to the ledge at Window Rock." Vin offered a roll of the eye at the outlandish suggestion. Chris shook his head, then shared a look with Nathan. He thought on it a bit more, but it was the healer who voiced what they were thinking.

"You might be right, Ezra." Vin tossed a napkin into Ezra's face; it would be the former buffalo hunter's only contribution to this specific topic.

"So, what has Señorita Rocios prepared for us?" the gamester asked.

"We got some tortillas filled with shredded pork, tomatoes, little bit of poblano, some beans on the side. Nothin' too spicy today," the healer explained.

"It smells delectable."

"Maybe I shoulda had Inez whip me up some," Vin complained, also impressed with the aromas wafting through the room. "Coffee's still cookin'. Inez'll bring it when it's done."

"Vin, ya just ate less than two hours ago," Chris said incredulously. "You can't really be hungry." He closed his eyes and took a whiff of the Mexican specialty of the house.

"Don't mean I can't eat," the Texan said.

"From mah viewpoint, there's enough for all of us," Ezra said. Nathan meted out the food to all four of them. The tray just happened to have extra plates stacked on it.

"You've got an appetite, Ezra. That's good," the black man said as he hungrily dove into to his plate of food.

"Indeed it is, Nathan, though as Chris and Vin have both obviously concluded, this meal would be difficult to pass up even if one were not hungry," the southerner returned.

Vin finished his current mouthful and said, "It ain't hard ta figure out why what's in the tortilla is so good," he started. They knew the slow roasting with all of the spices rubbed into the meat made for a tender, juicy and flavorful bite. "Don't know how she gets beans ta taste so good."

"Ah believe it might be magic," Ezra suggested as he took one final bite. He did not want to overindulge, knowing that a sweet treat rested under the napkin on the tray nearer the closet.

"Don't know about that, Ezra," Chris countered. To Vin he offered, "I see what ya mean about being able to eat."

Everyone finished their stuffed tortillas and beans and chose to digest some before starting in on dessert, which Vin informed them was a peach and blueberry pie with a crumble topping from Gloria Potter. Chris and Vin talked about further reducing the amount of patrolling needed for the town. Nathan poured hot water into a mug over the herbs he needed Ezra to take before he fell asleep next.

Ezra had fallen asleep once more, but was woken no more than ten minutes later by Buck's loud entrance into the room.

"Exhibit A," Ezra said lazily. "A bull in a china shop."

"What're you moanin' and groanin' about?" the town's Lothario asked irritably. He turned to Vin and said, "I heard there was pie."

Chris smiled and shook his head at his longtime friend as Ezra warned, "Ah would suggest that we all claim our dessert before Mistah Wilmington gets his paws on it."

"I thought he was gettin' better," Buck said to Nathan. "You wouldn't know it by the moanin' and groanin'."

"You ain't exactly in a pleasant mood yourself, Buck," Chris said, not happy that Buck and Ezra seemed back at it like they'd been just before they left to lasso the Horton brothers.

"I ain't bitchin' and moanin' like him,"

"Ah am not 'bitchin' and moanin', as you so eloquently put it. Ah am simply pointin' out that by mah eye, there are only four pieces of pie under that napkin." Vin jumped over in front of Buck to check Ezra's guess.

"He's right. Four pieces," the sharpshooter confirmed.

"Might Ah suggest that whoever told you this about the pie might not be the most reliable source of information?"

"Don't know 'bout that, Hoss. Heard it from Inez."

"Ah have no doubt that Miss Rocios might have been conversin' with someone and mentioned the pie, but you, sir, are the source of the misinformation as you failed to ascertain just how much of the pie she sent up here." The gambler was intent on getting out what he wanted to say before the building cough interrupted him. At the end, the coughing left him breathless.

"All right, Ezra. That's enough talking," the healer advised.

"Good. Sounds cranky, anyway," Buck pressed on, clearly trying to goad Ezra further. The mustachioed gunman headed toward the dessert tray.

"Don't get too close, Buck," Vin warned.

"Stand your ground, Vin," Ezra encouraged.

"Ezra, what the hell … " Buck began, but was quickly cut off.

"Buck, why don't you head on down and get yourself a piece of pie," Chris suggested. Buck opened his mouth to say something, but Chris wouldn't allow it. "Ezra's been sick, he ain't fully recovered, and you're here makin' trouble." Buck stood staring at his friend when Chris realized why Buck was here. "There's no pie left, is there?" Nathan and Vin snorted at the question. It explained a lot. Ezra laughed, too, derisively, but the attitude he was going for was ruined by another long few moments of coughing.

Buck knew he'd been caught. "Well, I figured Ezra might not be up to eatin' his pie. I know Inez sent up a tasty-smellin' tray of food. Figured he'd be too full after not eatin' for a while."

Ezra laughed again, but stopped as it threatened to cause more coughing. "You, mah friend, were set up by the lovely, and at times devilish, Inez Rocios."

Buck scowled. Chris, Vin and Nathan laughed out loud. Ezra now wore an enthralled, admiring, affectionate grin. He used to say how his mother was a remarkable woman, and in certain decidedly undesirable ways, she was. But Inez, without the con woman ways and bloodlust machinations of Maude Standish, was far more lethal, in a charming and delightfully unexpected way. Her beauty and empathy masked her wily nature. I guess his friends now all knew better. Ezra's grin grew to a wide smile as Buck accepted that he'd been played.

"Guess I'll have to be first in line for dessert tomorrow 'stead o' cuttin' out early for Miss Ingrid's … "

"Don't wanna hear it," Vin said.

"We're gettin' ready to eat, here," Nathan chastised.

"Don't make me lose my appetite, Buck. Might be forced to shoot you," Chris threatened.

Buck nodded, keeping the rest of the details of why he'd missed a piece of pie to himself. He looked back to Ezra, a smile still on his face. "Ain't you got nothin' to say?"

"Vin?" the recovering man said.

A man who concedes no more chances

To court the Mexican girl at dances,

Might want to try,

Not moan or groan or bitch or cry,

A taste of humble pie.

Buck's smiled drooped a bit. "You just made that up?"

"Yep."

"Ah believe that Vin uses our lives to amuse himself in his head. Sometimes, as now, we are gifted with his talent." To Vin, Ezra said, "You nevah cease to amaze me with your uncanny abilities."

"That weren't nuthin'."

"Ah disagree. Ah believe it to be as delectable as that slice of pie we will soon enjoy," Ezra said. "And a perfect birthday present."

"Aw, hell, Ez," Chris said.

"When … " Buck started, then quickly finished, "Your birthday was the day we were riding back, wasn't it?"

"It does not mattah. Ah was not exactly able to celebrate mah birth day, anyway."

"We'll have to do it right, celebrate it right, when you're over this cold," Nathan said. "I'm sorry … "

"Ah do not wish for anyone to feel that way. It is truly just another day," Ezra said.

"Well, we can each stand you a drink, like Nate said, when you're feelin' better." Ezra smiled. It was a kind offer.

"It would be mah pleasure to enjoy drinks with you gentlemen."

"Good. Well, guess I'll leave you boys to it," Buck said as he grabbed for the door knob. He knew he'd asked for what he'd just got, walked right into it. He should have stayed with Ingrid.

"You sure you don't want to stay, Buck? Might be some crumbs … " Chris started, but Buck let him know how he felt about the offer.

"Kiss my ass, Larabee," the ladies' man said as he closed the door.

"Do you believe the lesson was learned?" Ezra asked.

"I doubt it," the other three lawmen in the room said as they heard a knock on the door, and then the door open.

"Hot coffee?" Inez asked.

The End.