METAMORPHOSIS
1. a: a change of physical form, structure, or substance
b: a striking alteration in appearance, character, or circumstances
2. : a typically marked and more or less abrupt developmental change in the form or structure of an animal (as a butterfly or a frog) occurring subsequent to birth or hatching
"So, ladies, in this dry desert environment we must be particularly careful of how we plant these seeds," Ezra Standish instructed.
"Some of us are quite comfortable around the garden, Mr. Standish," Gloria Potter reminded the gambler.
"Dear Lady, Ah do not mean to encroach on an area where some of you retain far more expertise that Ah. However, Ah have observed over these last couple of years as Ah have made mah home here in our small metropolis that we appear to manage an abundance of vegetables and herbs but very few flowers. Ah believe flowers in just the right places about town would bring pleasure to our citizenry and visitors alike. As the poet Ponce Denis Écouchard Lebrun said, 'The butterfly is a flying flower, The flower a tethered butterfly'."
"Does that mean the flowers we grow will fly away some day?" Little Emily Merton asked. Her mother, Abigail, was among the women taking part, with the passionate encouragement of one particular southern con man, in this effort to beautify Four Corners. She was also one of the newest members of their community, the new seamstress, who moved to town with her young daughter Emily and her husband Robert, a rancher who preferred that his wife and daughter remain in town during the long, hard work days and many cattle drives he and his men took throughout the season. There was a small house on the land he had purchased, but Abigail had some money from an inheritance that allowed them to purchase the small corner building that had been vacant since the murder of the town's previous seamstress, Miss Irene, may she rest in peace.
"No, honey. It is just a way of saying that each is as beautiful as the other," Emily's mother said helpfully.
"That is correct, Miss Emily. And one of the wonderful benefits of flowers such as these is that they draw butterflies much as the beautiful wildflowers on the outer reaches of our town do. Do you recall seeing them upon your arrival last autumn?"
"Yes, I remember them, Mr. Ezra. One of them landed on your pretty red jacket. How come you don't wear that coat anymore?"
Ezra's expression faltered, briefly, at the mention of the jacket. It had been his old red jacket, an article of clothing that marked an unexpected transformation in the con man, a jacket stained such that retaining it left him terrible reminders of what he'd almost done, of how he'd nearly ruined what he had here in this dustbowl of a town in the middle of the high desert. The jacket had been ruined by his razor by his own hand … and by his blood, and tainted by the touch of the blood money that if he'd gotten to the livery without seeing Stutz face-to-face could have meant Mary Travis' death. Though he had come to terms with what he'd done, and been forgiven his weakness by his friends, there were still times when he had trouble facing the memory. Ezra figured that it was just as well, his very own penance. Lord, what he would hear from Josiah Sanchez should he ever admit that he felt this way! He'd learned his lesson about opening up too much, at least with Josiah. 'Once bitten, twice shy' as the idiom went. He hoped that one day he would no longer feel the pain of that moment in his life, that what he continued to do in his future would somehow make that moment in time a distant remembrance hardly worth thinking on over the course of a more worthwhile, well-lived life. He had purchased a new red jacket, but had yet to find the courage to pull it from his closet. Ezra managed to deflect the question of the old jacket's whereabouts.
"Yes indeed, it did, Miss Emily. And what did we say about it when that happened?"
"That butterflies are drawn to the bright colors."
"That is correct. So, when we plant our seeds, and see the tall stalks topped with the various shades of red and pink, white, purple, orange, chartreuse, lilac and yellah … "
"What's chart-ruse?" Billy Travis asked.
"A fine question, Master Travis. It is a vivid yellah-green, in the French language. The lovely Miss Potter has the basket with the seed packets. You can see the chartreuse color there." Billy stepped over where the girls all circled around Gloria's young daughter and took a look through the gaily decorated packets that contained the seeds that would grow through the spring and miraculously, after properly amending the soil and careful watering, and the natural and abundant Southwest sun and heat of the summer, be a stunning showcase of color amidst the monochromatic dinginess of the town. "It is a miracle of nature how a simple seed can transform into a thing of such beauty. It is similar to how the butterfly starts as an egg and then moves through its life cycle to larva, pupa and then adult."
"And all of the colorful flowers will welcome the butterflies," Emily stated. Her mother smiled as only a mother could. Her daughter had taken to the town, and had become particularly fond of the smart-dressing gambler and lawman. Abigail Merton had been assured by Mary Travis that she need not be concerned by Ezra's chosen profession, that the man had a special affection for children and a deft hand not often seen in people without offspring of their own. Ezra knelt down to the little girl's height, gave her a hug and whispered something for her ears only that made the child giggle with delight.
"Why's he doin' this?" J.D. Dunne asked of his other peacekeepers. He, Buck Wilmington and Josiah Sanchez sat drinking their morning coffee as they observed their fellow lawman and resident professional card player as he spoke amongst a crowd of ten ladies of the town, and about half a dozen children, boys and girls, who listened eagerly to the silky tones of the southern gentleman. "It ain't even seven o'clock yet." Seeing the gambler at this early morning hour had confounded all three men.
"Why do you ask, J.D.?" Josiah queried. The one-time preacher was just as curious about the goings-on as he stared down the street at the women and children hovering around his friend, but for some reason, J.D. seemed especially annoyed by the activity down at the head of the alley.
"I don't see any point in wastin' time tryin' to grow flowers. They ain't gonna survive out here. There's not enough water."
"That's not what's got ya riled," Buck challenged with a knowing smile, a smile that just served to aggravate the young man more.
J.D. flung his hand dismissively toward the handsome gunman. "Oh, what do you know?"
"I know that you've hardly taken your eyes off the lovely Casey Wells. Did she break a date with you to spend time with Ezra?" Buck chided.
"As a matter of fact, we were supposed to go riding today, but when she heard about Ezra's 'zinnia clinic'," he said, waving his arm dramatically in the direction of the group down the way, a distinct negative accent on the unofficially advertised moniker of the card sharp's floral gathering, "she said we'd have to wait. But I got the afternoon shift. The way he's goin'," J.D. said, sounding rather put-upon and consciously choosing he over Ezra, "we ain't gonna get a ride in today."
"There's always tomorrow son," Josiah advised reasonably as he took a long drink of the strong, rich brew that Inez had offered up this morning. The preacher wondered if Ezra didn't have something to do with the elevated quality of the java during the breakfast hours at the saloon. He had spent some time over the winter visiting with his mother and returned with several crates from his shopping excursions with the woman who Josiah, despite himself and the torment it often seemed she willingly foisted upon her son, found beguiling.
"That ain't the point, preacher!" J.D. said in a huff. The rapt congregation around Ezra all turned to look their way; J.D. stormed off toward the livery in exasperation and embarrassment.
"Don't mind him," Casey said to the group. "Go on with what you were sayin', Ezra."
"Thank you, mah dear. Now, it is especially important that we choose our site for these flowers wisely."
"Can we plant some out in front of the buildings?" Billy asked.
"Well, Master Travis, we must be careful. The climate here in our desert environment can be brutal," Ezra answered. Billy twisted up his face up in an attempt to decipher what the con man said. The little boy's mother took pity on her son, and a turn at translating.
"It's very, very hot here in the summer, Billy, when these flowers will finally be in bloom. And we have to watch where we use our water. We don't want it to be used and then just evapor … um, fade away with the heat," Mary Travis said, sending Ezra a sympathetic glance. Even as a mother, she found it occasionally difficult to find just the right words to explain something in more understandable terms for her young son.
Nettie Wells added, "And it ain't like out in the country, where ya got more trees to help protect the flowers from the strong sun."
"Exactly. So when we take our walk through town, we need to have a keen eye for a spot that will allow some protection in shadow for some part of the day," Ezra explained as he started the walk. The ladies followed, the children running every which way, some still interested in the topic, others just interested in running. "Remember, too, that the sun will be high in the sky for much longer during the summer days."
"I'm still not sure that this is such a good idea, but I believe that our best places to position flower beds would be where there is some shade well into the morning then again beginning in the late afternoon, since we know that we will have good sun, for the most part, throughout the day."
"You are correct, Mrs. Potter. A master gardener you are in the vegetable garden and the ornamental garden as well," Ezra complimented.
"Gloria grows herbs and nasturtiums in her garden as well," Mary said admiringly.
"Oh, Mary. Those all grow like weeds," Gloria admitted.
"Please do not sell yourself short, madam. We all appreciate the fruits of your labor – with no weeds in sight – when we are gifted with your savory herbed scones, those rare-but-delectable cheddar-chive scones, and during the short-lived greens season in the fall when that rare treat - a fresh salad – can be accompanied by the delectable pepper flavor of those exquisite edible flowers."
"Edible flowers?" Casey asked, scrunching her nose up at the thought.
"Don't criticize somethin' ya ain't tried, girl," Nettie chastised.
"It would be mah pleasure to treat you two lovely ladies to one of these delicious salads during the autumn season," Ezra said. He offered one elbow to Nettie, the other to Casey, as they continued on their survey of the town.
"It's a date!" Casey returned enthusiastically as she grabbed hold of Ezra's arm with equal fervor.
Josiah and Buck looked at one another and smiled. It was late March in Four Corners and a good five to six months before Ezra could make good on that dinner date. The two men were pleased to hear Ezra making such distant plans. There was always, it seemed, the chance that the professional card player would seek greener pastures, back in St. Louis or over to Denver, or maybe even all the way west to San Francisco. But as they watched Ezra working with the women of Four Corners to help pretty up the place, Buck and Josiah could tell that Ezra Standish was pretty content right where he was. Buck wished that Chris and Nathan had been there to hear Ezra make that date so far away from today. It would be one thing for him to relay the conversation, which he would do, but he would not likely be able to convince the two of the seven most skeptical of Ezra ever being a permanent member of their group of the sincerity and the sheer joy when the man made that appointment with Nettie and Casey that was so many months away.
"How 'bout here, Mr. Ezra?" Billy asked. They stood now in front of the staircase leading to Nathan Jackson's clinic.
"Master Travis, Ah do believe this would be an excellent location for some flora." Ezra watched as Mary leaned down to her small son.
"That means fl … " she hesitated briefly, caught a wink from the gambler and finished, "flowers in the Latin language." It wasn't an exact translation, but the wink told the pretty newspaperwoman that the translation would do for today.
"The zinnia flower," Ezra continued, "comes in many different colors and placing some along the front of these stairs will certainly put a smile on the face of anyone unfortunate enough to have to see Mistah Jackson due to illness or injury."
"Gee, Ezra, thanks for the encouraging words," Nathan said from above them.
"Mistah Jackson, mah apologies. Ah certainly did not mean to denigrate your accomplished skills and compassionate care. Ah assure you and all here," he said as he looked across the group he had gathered, "that Ah feel fortunate to have someone such as yourself in our fine town to guarantee mah continued good health."
"He didn't mean it the way it sounded," Mary said, helping out Billy and anyone else looking for an assist on what her fancy-talking friend in the brilliant blue jacket had said.
"I know. Just like to get 'im goin'," Nathan said with a broad smile.
"Well, thank you for that, Nathan," Ezra said with a reproachful grin. "So, would you have any qualms about havin' a wall of tall zinnias on the approach to your domicile?" Billy looked up to his mother with big eyes. Ezra re-phrased with, "would you be interested in having some flowers planted along the stairs?"
"Sounds nice," Nathan said, "but I can't promise that I'll have time to water them."
"That's not a problem, Mr. Jackson," Abigail Merton said. "We'll be putting together a list of folks responsible for watering anywhere we decided to put some seeds. I'll be handling this side of town for those that won't have time themselves. We understand your responsibilities are more than just here at the clinic."
"Thank you, Mrs. Merton," Nathan said. "That's right kind of ya."
"Please, call me Abigail."
"If you'll call me Nathan."
"All right, Nathan."
"And all of us in this group this morning will be responsible for any stand of flowers that is situated around our homes or businesses," Mary said.
"So, you've thought this through already just this morning?" Nathan asked.
"Oh, no. When Mr. Standish suggested this, we got together on our own before meeting today and decided on a few things to make it easier for us to get a running start," Casey said.
Ezra looked flummoxed. He had no idea that this had transpired, or that the women had already, save for some misgivings on Gloria Potter's part, embraced the idea so enthusiastically. And he could certainly understand Gloria's concerns. Aside from her commitment to a vegetable garden that served the needs of a large number of people in the town, from produce that she sold at her store to that which she supplied at a nominal profit to the several eating establishments in town, she was also well-versed in the climate for gardening in this area of the country. But she had been sold when Ezra noted that they would start easy, with a flower that was, though not native in profusion in the territory, one that should flourish in the difficult weather conditions.
"Ah, um, we … uh … what just happened here?" Ezra asked.
"I believe that you have the whole-hearted backing of the ladies of the town, Ezra," Josiah said from behind the group.
"Josiah … " Ezra started.
"Me, too," Buck called as he stood between two of the ladies in the group.
"You, too, what?" Ezra asked suspiciously.
"I think it's a good idea, too. Be nice to have some easy access to some flowers rather than having to go scrounge for some outside of town," the ladies man said. Buck, ever the romantic, could often be seen waltzing to his next rendezvous with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand.
"Buck, though these flowers are ideal for cut flowers, and will produce a relative cornucopia of additional blooms because of the cutting, you cannot just take the flowers that are placed throughout town … "
"I wasn't gonna do that, Ezra. What kind of person do you think I am?"
"Don't answer that," Josiah warned. He added in a minor lowering of his voice, "Think of the children."
Buck looked offended but went on. "Figure I can get my lady friends to take care of a bunch of flowers near the saloon, at the boarding house, and … "
"We understand, Buck," Ezra said, cutting off the verbose ladies' man before he could mention an unmentionable location or two. "Very well. Please, if you wouldn't mind working with Mrs. Merton?" he queried.
"Happy to," Buck said with a big smile.
"Where did the zinnia come from, Mr. Ezra," another of the children asked.
"An excellent question, Miss Rachel. Our country was gifted with the zinnia from our Mexican friends, where the flower flourishes in the heat. The genus, which is the class or kind of entity in nature that is marked by a characteristic … " Ezra stopped talking as he saw Mary's hand waving feverishly and then her head shaking. With her pale green eyes wide and a tilt of the head, he finally noticed what she already had: a fair number of confused faces. "Mah apologies," he said with an uncomfortable laugh. "Ah admit that Ah am enthralled with the flora of our world, a holdover from mah youth in the lush confines of the South, no doubt. In any event, the genus zinnia is a grouping of flowers of the same family." He cringed inwardly as he said it, knowing that it was not quite correct from a botanical perspective. "It is also known throughout South America and there are, Ah am told, some that are native to our own area. But there have been a large number of new zinnia, uh … types and colors cultivated, or, rather, created since the naming of the genus after the German botanist Johann Gottfried Zinn."
Ezra was close to losing his audience. A couple of the children yawned. Buck looked to Josiah, who looked to his coffee cup. "Excuse me, ladies, children, Ezra. Buck and I will need to go," he said as he tipped his cup upside down to denote why he needed to head out. Buck was more direct.
"Gee, Ez, I never thought I could ever know too much about zinnias, but after that I think I'm pretty full up."
"Your presence was neither required nor requested, Buck," Ezra said with as much patience and good manners as he could manage.
"Then I guess we'll see you later. Ladies," Buck said as he tipped his hat to the group. A series of Bucks and Mr. Wilmingtons and Mr. Bucks could be heard from the women and children as the two lawmen took their leave.
"I gotta admit, Ez, I never thought this would work," Vin Tanner said as they road back into town. "Sure is pleasin' to see all this color 'round town."
"Ah must admit that it turned out far better than Ah could have hoped. As it turned out, the mothers of the town were able to enlist their children in makin' sure that watering took place early enough in the day that it was not evaporated in this dry desert air. It is … quite lovely."
"Some o' the flowers are twice as tall as some of the kids. Lots of colors."
"Yes." Ezra had worked with Yosemite at the livery and some of the ranchers to assure that plenty of manure was available to amend the dry, packed soil where the seeds had been planted. The men and children had initially complained of the smell about town, but soon found out that the aroma faded and far worse scents consistently lingered from the outhouses, anyway.
"Lots of butterflies. Surprisin', considerin' all the activity in town," Vin commented as he smiled at the wall of flowers up against the side of the jail and the building opposite the alley. The two men had just come from Eagle Bend on the return part of their trip dropping off a prisoner who had robbed several businesses there and attempted to lie low in Four Corners. The thief hadn't counted on the time the lawmen of Four Corners spent checking wanted posters and checking in with the surrounding towns for trouble. The fact that sitting out in front with a good cup of coffee, a stack of posters and the view of the commandingly tall flowers, with their color and fascinating draw of butterflies was a pleasant way to spend part of the day had worked against the man ever getting away with it.
"Not really. We worked to place the flowers where they would have some protection, always up against a building, often out of the direct way of activity, but still noticeable ridin' or walkin' through town," the gambler explained as the two men slowly made their way off their horses after their long ride.
"Ya done a nice thing, Ezra. The town wouldn't be enjoyin' this if it weren't for you organizin' the whole thing," Vin said as he tossed Peso's reins around the hitching post.
"Ah find this desert environment appealing, the dry heat is not smotherin' the way the wet heat of The South can be." He stretched his back muscles that had stiffened up from the long ride as he, too, placed Chaucer's reins around the post. "But Ah admit that Ah miss the lush greenery and the beautiful flowers that such a warm, wet climate produces. Ah know that we will never have that here, but certainly the bounty of wildflowers in the desert tells us that more can grow here than we know. Mrs. Potter's garden is certainly testament to what diligent hard work can bring to harvest."
"She even put some of them zinnias at the back of her garden," Vin noted as he stepped up on the boardwalk in front of the jail and looked at the flowers from that viewpoint along the main street.
"And made it even more beautiful than it was before. She is quite a woman. What she has been through would be enough to send any woman with a family to worry over back east, and no one would find fault in the decision."
"Nah, Ez. She likes it here. She's like Nettie, Gloria likes it more than her husband ever did."
"Well, with Mrs. Potter's assistance, the zinnia experiment seems to have been a success," Ezra agreed with a hint of pride as he, too enjoyed the view.
"And ya noticed there were more vegetable gardens this year?"
"I knew that Mrs. Merton has one," Ezra acknowledged.
"The Petersons and the Langstons. And Heiddeger has an herb garden."
"Well, well. Our little burg will be known as the botanical garden of the Southwest if we continue at this pace."
"Could be known for worse," Chris Larabee said as he stepped out to join his men.
"Mistah Larabee," Ezra said in greeting.
"Ezra, Vin. How'd it go?"
"Uneventful," the con man said, followed by a yawn.
"Ezra had a late night," Vin said through a crooked grin.
"More like an early morning," Ezra groused.
"Was it successful?" Chris asked.
"It was worth Mistah Tanner wakin' me after just a few hours sleep."
"Well, all right, then." Ezra tipped his hat to Chris, as did Vin as they took the reins of their horses and headed to the livery. "Hey, Ezra!" Chris called.
Ezra stopped and turned back to look at the leader of their group. "Yes, Chris."
It was mid-August, as near as a month away from the 'date' that Buck had told him about, the date where Ezra would be taking the Wells women to dinner. Chris was still not sure that the fact that Ezra Standish was still with them now meant that he would be with them one day after that dinner date. He hoped that he would be. Chris had gotten real used to having the man around. Certainly what he'd done for the town could be looked at as a decision to stay. But still, did digging in the ground and planting seeds to make something grow really mean anything? Did it say what Buck and Josiah thought it did? Vin thought that it did, and he'd told Chris so. Nathan wasn't so sure, and J.D. didn't seem to want to think on it much. Chris hoped that the majority of their group was right. He knew that if Sarah was here, she'd be siding with Vin, Josiah and Buck. He smiled as he thought about all the times she had sided with Buck against him in their all-too-brief married life.
"So, what's up for the next season?" the former gunslinger asked.
Ezra smiled widely, his dimples showing, somewhat embarrassed yet without doubt pleased by the question. "Ah haven't given it much thought," he said. Chris felt a pain that he'd hoped he wouldn't have to feel any more. But then, the southerner continued, "As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, 'Earth laughs in flowers'. I believe this to be true. Ah intend to spend the winter months researching what beyond the zinnia would be a good choice for our fair town. Might Ah enlist your assistance in this endeavor?" Vin snorted and looked down into the dirt to hide his smile. He shook his head slightly, which quickly became a quiet nod of thanks.
A pain so suddenly lifted, Chris momentarily found his throat tight. His huff of indignation easily hid the delay in his ability to speak. It was quickly followed by a firm, "Hell no! That's your thing, Ez." Chris sat down in the chair to enjoy the new, colorful view. His eyes landed on a butterfly. He watched it take it's full from one of the flowers, and then leaned over and followed it as it flew up above the overhang that protected the boardwalk. Ezra and Vin watched in satisfaction as well, and then continued on to take care of their horses, Vin's arm falling on his friend's back, a silent clasp of gratitude shared. He wondered if maybe now, now that the gambler had gambled so publicly and won – won at something far more important than a card game - if maybe Ezra would finally pull out that new red coat.
Happy is the man who can with vigorous wing
Mount to those luminous serene fields!
The man whose thoughts, like larks,
Take liberated flight toward the morning skies
-Who hovers over life and understands without effort
The language of flowers and voiceless things!
- Charles Baudelaire
The End.