Greene's Knights

by Tipper

The apothecary is kidnapped, and that's just the beginning. In four parts. (complete). (It is shorter than the size says it is. Not sure why it thinks it's that big.)

1. Part One -- The Kidnapping

Title: Greene's Knights

Author: Tipper

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never will. Won't make any money. Never will. Really wish I could. Never will. Quoth the rav…ahem…crow.

Description: The apothecary is kidnapped, and, as always, that's just the beginning…. In Four parts.

Greene's Knights

Part One

March winds lashed the window frames, slamming the ill-fitted storm windows deeper into their grooves, jolting Buck awake with a strangled cry. White moonlight bathed the shirtless and shivering man, his mind desperately trying to regain a sense of reality. He judged it to be about three in the morning, quiet and deathly. He'd been dreaming again, this one following a now familiar tune. It began, as always, with the gunfight….

The blast of gunshots echoed through the town, cries and screams accompanying them. The feel of wood splintering and glass breaking, the image of Four Corners -- or somewhere very much like it -- and the need to protect it, as he'd always done, enveloped him. A place so familiar, and yet, somehow alien.

Then it was over, the destruction quick and brutal, bodies littering the street, smoke and dust rising to swirl around them. Buck stepped out from behind his cover, a smile on his face and twirling his guns, but when he looked around for the others, he found himself alone. He called out, but no one answered, not even the townsfolk.

A keen wailing surrounded him then, and the brown world took on a much darker hue, almost blue. He would start to shake as all the men he'd killed stood up, blood and dirt marring their pale features, no emotions on their blank faces. Oh, but they remembered how to use their guns, and they knew on whom to use them.

Buck screamed for help, yelling for the others, but he was alone. Deserted. Why had he believed they would stay for him? Why had he stayed at all? He would fire on the dead men, but they just kept coming…and he had no one to help him.

The window continued to slam against the frame in a staccato rhythm, increasing the chills and shivers that ran down the ladies man's tall frame. Wiping a hand across his sweating face, he staggered out of bed and to the window, almost wanting to smash it open. With a grunt, he threw it up and leaned out, letting the brisk wind dry his face. After a moment, he opened his eyes to look out at the dark street, expecting to find it empty.

He gripped the sill, his eyes widening.

"HEY!" he yelled loudly. "STOP!" On the street below, one of the bandits heard and instantly swung his rifle up. Before Buck could move out the way, the shot rang out, exploding into Buck's chest. He yelled again as he fell backwards, into oblivion.

____________________________________

Ezra was staring morosely at the drink in his hand, watching drearily as the amber liquid glinted in the firelight. He was sitting in the hotel's front parlour, a book facedown on his lap, the fire stacked high in the grate.

"Mr. Standish?" Mr. Sykes called from the door, the night manager smiling kindly. "Is there anything else I can get you? A blanket, perhaps? Or another drink?"

Ezra sighed and looked up, his green eyes reflecting the gratitude he felt towards the older man. The gambler had been suffering from insomnia lately, and the noise of the saloon only seemed to worsen the headaches he'd been getting as a result. But even after Inez closed up, he hadn't wanted to return to his lonely room, nor did he want the manageress to worry. So, for the last three nights, he'd taken up residence in the hotel's parlour, and Mr. Sykes had been there to welcome him every night.

Mr. Sykes actually liked having the gambler there, though he did worry about the younger man's health. He actually likened Mr. Standish to a friend, and it didn't hurt that he felt safer having one of the Seven nearby in case something happened. The hotel manager certainly didn't mind either, saying that the cost of having the fire burning all night in the parlour was worth if it meant the extra protection.

Ezra just liked it because the parlour was the most comfortable place in the entire town. And Mr. Sykes was kind. He shook his head at the man in the door, a smile on his own face.

"No, thank you, Mr. Sykes. You've been more than…"

Buck's shout of "Hey! Stop!" rang through the room, and Ezra was on his feet instantly. He was at the parlour door when the explosive boom of a rifle shot cut through the room, accompanied by a second yell, this one of pain. The gambler came to an abrupt stop, his eyes widening in shock at the sound, aware that a similar expression had appeared on Mr. Sykes' face. Then Ezra was off and running out the front doors.

He was nearly bowled over as a rider charged past, ponying another horse behind him. On the back of the second horse, Mr. Greene, the apothecary, was tied down, a gag tied around his mouth and a look of terror on his normally implacable face. Before Ezra could react, two more riders skimmed past after them, the men barely registering Ezra's appearance on the road in front of them. The gambler stepped back, then narrowed his eyes as a final rider approached rapidly, a man holding a smoking rifle in one hand.

Ezra bellowed and jumped just as the final bandit tried to get past, driving the man from his horse. The black mare swung around with her rider when he didn't loose his hold on her reins, whinnying as he wrenched her head down. A couple of well placed blows to his head, and the man was out. Swiftly, Ezra grabbed the reins of the terrified horse and swung himself up into the saddle. Moments later he was galloping at breakneck speed after the other bandits and their kidnap victim.

______________________________

"Buck! Oh my God!" JD hissed, diving into the room to be by the man's side. Chris stood in the doorframe, his face alive with confusion as he pulled on dark shirt. The kid grabbed the sheet from off the bed and pressed it against the bleeding wound on Buck's right side, calling his best friend's name over and over again. Looking up, he saw Chris run over to the window. The gunslinger was just in time to see Ezra sweep the bandit out of his saddle, then take the man's horse for himself.

"Chris, you have to get Nathan, now!" JD urged, not caring what was happening outside when he could feel the blood seeping through the sheet. Chris took one more look at them, then took off at a run.

_________________________

Vin had had his rifle up and pointed at the last bandit's back when he was forced to drop his aim. He couldn't hide an impressed expression as the bandit went down under Ezra's attack, and the gambler took the horse. Then the tracker ran forward to take care of the downed man. Gripping him by the collar, he dragged the man to his feet and shoved him towards the jail. His eyes, though, were focused on the men galloping out of town.

_________________________

Josiah shoved open the doors of the church with his shoulder, his Smith & Wesson in his hand. As he skipped down the steps, he watched mesmerized as the three bandits and Mr. Greene swept past, only the terrified apothecary sparing him a glance. Then the preacher's own fear registered as he Ezra sped past after them, the gambler's face tight with determination. The preacher yelled Ezra's name without thinking, the voice of a worried parent as his child does something too risky.

Up on his balcony, Nathan had also just emerged, sleep still thick in his eyes as he tugged on his second boot. The riders all blurred past him, but the gambler's red coat was easily discernable taking up the rear. He heard Josiah bellow the younger man's name from where he stood on the steps, but either Ezra didn't hear him or he ignored him.

Instantly, Nathan whirled around to run down to the livery.

"NATHAN!" Chris's voice carried down the street, and the healer spun on his heel. The gunslinger skidded to a halt below him, just as Josiah reached the same spot, the preacher obviously intending to go for his horse. From uptown, Nathan could see Vin sprinting towards them from the direction of the jail.

"Nathan! Buck's down, shot in the chest," Chris yelled. "JD needs you at the boarding house, now!" Needing no further urging, the healer ran back inside to get his bag from the clinic.

"They kidnapped Stephen Greene, Chris, and Ezra's after them," Josiah said, his fear plain as he pointed in the direction of the bandits. Chris just nodded.

"I know. Get over to the apothecary's and check on Belinda and the boys," Chris ordered. Josiah looked as if he'd been slapped.

"No, Chris, I'm going after…"

"Josiah, you have to check on the Greenes. You're the best one for it, and you know it. Me and Vin'll go after Ezra." At that same moment, Vin reached the group, his sharp ears catching the gunslinger's order. Without stopping, he was throwing open the doors of the livery to gather Peso and Solon. Nathan pounded down the stairs of the clinic and past them, headed for the boarding house at a dead run.

Josiah looked at the man in black, his mouth open as his emotions warred within him. Finally, with a tight swallow, his closed his lips and nodded.

"Bring him back!" the preacher growled, not caring if Chris knew he was referring to Mr. Greene or Ezra.

Chris, of course, knew exactly who Josiah meant. He nodded brusquely in return and turned to help Vin. The preacher shook his head, offered a short prayer to anyone who was listening, then jogged up the street towards the apothecary's house.

Less than five minutes later, Chris and Vin exploded out of the livery and after the bandits.

___________________

Nathan arrived to find JD still trying to get Buck to wake up, tears streaming down the boy's face. He was pushing down fiercely with the sheet, his breath coming out in shallow pants. Buck's own breathing, in comparison, was almost non-existent.

The healer got on his knees and nodded at JD to lift the sheet. Buck's bare chest was smeared with blood, and more welled out of the ugly hole that sat just below his right shoulder. Quickly, the healer started wiping as much of it away as possible with some clean cloths, his brow furrowed in concentration. He glanced angrily about the dark room, lit only by the full moon streaming in through the windows, before turning dark eyes back to his patient.

"JD, I need more light!" he snapped, not looking up. "I have to get this bullet out, now!" JD's frightened eyes glanced up, and he was instantly on his feet, nearly tripping over the bunched and bloody sheet. On the nightstand he found Buck's book of matches, and quickly got the oil lamp lit. Then he jumped across the bed to light the one he saw on the dresser.

When he looked up again, he saw Virginia, the landlady, in the doorway, her soft, round face tight with worry. Wordlessly, the old woman handed JD her own oil lamp, which he took with a nod.

"Can you boil some water, and bring us some more lamps, Miss Virginia?" the young man asked, licking his lips nervously.

"Of course, love," she replied, her Irish lilt softening her tone. She bustled off, her skirts swishing down the dark hallway.

"Bring that lamp over here, JD," Nathan ordered. JD was back by his side in seconds, turning the wick up to make it as bright as possible. Nathan thanked him with a nod.

"Alright…the bullet's deep, but I think it missed his lung since it entered at an upward angle. Thank God the man who shot him didn't have decent aim. I'm going to have to dig it out before we can move him." He reached behind blindly for his bag, his eyes watching the frightened young man in front of him. "If Buck starts to wake, JD, I need you to talk to him and try to keep him from moving too much. Think you can do that?"

JD bit his lip, not wanting to express his fear that he had thought Buck would never wake again. Trying to take heart in the calm voice of Nathan, he reached forward to touch Buck's head, absently brushing the man's thick black hair away from his forehead.

______________________

Josiah sighed as he looked at the ruined front door of the apothecary's shop. The store and the rooms above were dark and deathly quiet, and his chest filled with a heavy sense of foreboding. The best one to deal with this, Chris had said. Damn him. Even if it was true, it was still a horrible job, especially when he so wanted to be somewhere else. Just as he was about to enter, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Josiah?" Mary's voice called to him. He turned around to see her wrapped in her shawl, shivering slightly. "What happened? And can I help?"

The preacher's eyes fell to the ground. "Stephen has been kidnapped, Mary. I'm going to check on Belinda and the boys…I think it best you wait here until I call you."

Mary's sharp intake of breath had Josiah looking up, the mantle of his position resting back upon his shoulders. He lifted a hand to her shoulder to calm her, and asked her not to worry. She just nodded, her eyes liquid.

"What about the gunshot?" she asked. "Was anyone…?" she trailed off. Josiah shook his head.

"Buck was shot. I don't know," he shrugged, trying not to betray his worry. Mary took in another deep breath, her eyes seeking out the large dark structure of the boarding house. When she returned her gaze to his, they seemed a bit more settled.

"I'll wait for you to call me, Josiah," she told him, her voice strong. The preacher smiled slightly and thanked her. Then he turned to head inside.

_____________________

What the hell am I doing?

This thought had rung through Ezra's head at least ten times in the last few minutes, but he continued to spur the mare faster. She responded each time, putting on brief stretches of speed before falling back into her normal gallop. She was definitely not as consistent as Chaucer. Luckily, the four horses ahead of him were not much better, and the gray dappled mare carrying Mr. Greene certainly couldn't move as fast. The bound man was giving it no encouragement, although he also couldn't doing anything to stop it. The mare was following the lead horse without hesitation.

The gambler shot again with his Remington, knowing full well that, at this speed, he would be lucky to hit the broad side of a barn. The light from the gun blinded him momentarily, its brightness shocking against the blue and black landscape. The backlash of the gunshot echoed in his ears, but the noise was so familiar as to be almost soundless. In response, he would see a few flashes of light, and then hear the accompanying shots, as the three bandits fired vaguely in return.

Like him, the bullets got nowhere near their target.

But he couldn't stop. Ezra had no idea what these men wanted with Mr. Greene, but he wasn't about to give them the opportunity to slow down and kill their victim. He just hoped he got lucky and that they stopped to face him of their own accord.

Yeah, he thought wryly to himself, and what, pray tell, would you do then?

He shifted the Remington in his right hand to get a more secure grip, and fired again.

_____________________________

Buck groaned.

"Shh, shh, Buck, it's all right, it's all right," JD soothed, wiping away the sweat on the gunslinger's face with a damp cloth. Virginia sat silently on the bed, her old, pale blue eyes watching the young man with worry. Nathan ignored them both, his face screwed up into a tight frown.

Carefully, he probed the wound, trying not to enlarge it too much while he went in to get the bullet. Sweat poured down his own face, and he wished he had someone there to wipe it away. Dragging his left hand across his brow, he sucked in a breath and continued to dig.

Buck groaned louder, and he bucked slightly against the pain radiating through him. JD grabbed his good shoulder and placed another hand on his chest, trying to keep the man still. He glanced up at Nathan.

"How much longer?" he asked quietly, his voice strained.

Nathan just shook his head, as if to say 'don't bother me now.' The healer bit his bottom lip, his mind only aware of what he could feel through his hand from the pliers. Somewhere in there…he had to be close…where the hell was it? Why the hell were bullets always so damn small? And why didn't they do an equally small amount of damage? No, instead this tiny piece of metal could bring down a man, kill him instantly.

Everything about this was insane. It always was.

Suddenly, the pliers hit something unyielding, and definitely metal. With a sharp breath, he allowed himself a small smile as he got a fix on the bullet. JD saw the look, and some of the tension in his frame let up a little.

_________________

Josiah picked up the candle from the front of the shop and lit it, ignoring the strong smell of herbs and spices that drifted through his senses. He hated how quiet it sounded upstairs. Mary stood just inside the door behind him, her shawl wrapped about her tightly. If she saw the strain in his face, she didn't show any sign. He nodded at her one more time before passing through to the back.

The rooms behind the apothecary were the kitchen, a store room and a small parlour that faced the back garden. Narrow stairs led up from the parlour, and Josiah head towards them unerringly.

"Belinda?" he called lightly. "Jeremy? Wyn? It's Josiah…." He took the steps slowly until he reached the landing. There were three rooms on this floor: the boys' room, the master bedroom, and a small guest room. The boys' room was first.

"Jeremy?" Josiah shone the light inside. Both beds were empty. Swallowing, he left the room and moved down the hall to the master bedroom. Once more, he turned the light into the room, vaguely noticing how brightly the moonlight streamed in through the front facing windows. This room was also empty.

Something shifted inside the closet. Well, maybe not totally empty.

Stepping it a little deeper into the room, he saw the closet was ajar on the far side. Something shifted again.

"Belinda?" He called, stepping up to the door. With a cautious hand, he opened it…and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Belinda Greene was there, bound and gagged, with both of her two little boys cowering behind her. Josiah couldn't avoid smiling broadly as he knelt down next to her.

"Its all right, Bel," the preacher soothed. "I'm going to untie you now." As if he'd opened a floodgate, both little boys screamed in relief and jumped on the preacher before he could do more than pull the gag from her mouth. Between their exuberant hello, and Belinda's yelling about her husband, somehow Josiah managed to yell for Mary to come upstairs.

_____________________________________

Ezra ducked low on the mare's back, aware that she was tiring. Raising the Remington, he mentally counted how many bullets he'd shot. Five. Okay. One more. He straightened his shoulders slightly, feeling the comforting weight of the still unused colt on his left side.

Sitting up as high as he could off the saddle, he pointed the Remington at the nearest rider, sucked in a breath, and pretended he was as good as Vin. The shot rang out clearly, and he was rewarded by a high pitched yell. With an amazed expression, Ezra watched as the bandit fell from off his horse, the dark gelding screaming as it almost went down with its rider.

The black mare he was on jumped to the left to avoid the downed horse, but Ezra didn't let her stop. The rider forgotten, he continued on after the other two, spurring the mare again. He shoved the now empty Remington back into its holster on his thigh, switched the reins to his right hand, and pulled out the colt. He grinned slightly. He always was a better shot with his left, anyway.

______________________________

Chris and Vin heard the crack of the Remington in the distance, and the accompanying yell. The gunslinger glanced over at the tracker, and Vin shot him a raised eyebrow.

About five minutes later, they came across the downed man. They pulled up and let the horses dance around him for a minute, quickly ascertaining that the man was dead. Then they both spurred Peso and Solon forward again.

_______________________________

"The good thing about him not wearing a shirt," Nathan mumbled as he cleaned the wound, "is that there is less risk of infection. No fibers in there complicating things." He uncapped the alcohol from his bag and looked at JD.

The kid recognized the look, and placed his hands once more on Buck's good shoulder and chest. "Hold on Buck," he whispered.

Nathan poured the liquid over the wound, and Buck's eyes flew open. The bellow of agony he gave, and the way he strained against JD holding him down was enough to make Virginia shut her eyes and turn away. She'd always hated seeing anyone in pain.

"Buck, Buck, calm down. Its alright. We're here. We've got you," the kid said, sounding much older than his twenty odd years allowed. "We ain't never gonna let you go. Now hush. You'll be all right."

"JD?" the ladies man managed, his bright eyes seeking out the younger man's face. JD's grin grew wide.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me. Nathan's here. He's taking care of you."

"You left…" Buck said, his eyes closing again. "Why did you leave me? Why did you leave me to die?"

"What? Buck, I…Buck? Damn it, he's out again." JD turned dark eyes to watch Nathan. The healer was soaking a rag in some sort of viscous liquid, planning on placing it over Buck's wound. JD waited patiently him for him to finish, his brow furrowed. When Nathan finally looked up again, JD matched his gaze.

"What did he mean, Nathan?" the kid asked. The healer's eyes dropped, and he sighed.

"I don't know, kid. Could be he's confused about some'ut, maybe a dream…."

________________________________

"It just happened so quickly. We were…we were sleeping, then all of a sudden someone grabbed me and pulled me out a bed. Next thing I knew, they were tying my hands behind me and ordering Stephen outside. They already had Jeremy and Wyn on the floor of the room, face down, and for a moment I thought…. But they didn't kill us. They just…gagged me, threatened the boys that they'd kill me if they cried out, then threw us in the closet. They took Stephen…and then I heard that gunshot and.…" Belinda shook her head, and a chill ran through her.

"Do you know why they wanted your husband, Bel?" Josiah asked, sitting across the table from the still shaking woman. He had one hand outstretched and holding hers. Mary was boiling water on the stove for some hot tea, and the two little boys were both sitting near their mother, leaning on her. They watched Josiah with nervous eyes.

"No," she said, her voice small. "They just took him, telling me and Stephen to keep quiet or they'd kill the boys. But…but I'm guessing they took him as ransom."

"Ransom?" Mary repeated, her tone curious. "I didn't think you had enough money to ransom anyone, Bel."

"Oh, we don't. It's not me they'd want to ransom him to. It'd be to his brother, Harold."

"Harold…?" Mary's eyes lit up, and her jaw fell open. "Harold Greene? Harold Greene is Stephen's brother?"

"Who is Harold Greene?" Josiah interposed, his calm voice hiding the fact that he had one fist clenched under the table in worry, his fingernails pressing deep into his palm.

"Surveyor General of the New Mexico Territories, Josiah! My God," Mary shook her head, her quick mind considering what this all meant. "He's only had that post, what, three months?"

Bel just nodded, wiping a tired hand across her face.

"Surveyor General," Josiah repeated softly. "Then this is probably over land."

"Or statehood," Mary added.

Bel looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. "My Stephen won't know anything about that. He doesn't ever talk to his brother, except when he has to. Harold's ambitious and…and unpleasant. I don't know what those men think, but Harold won't pay…at least, I don't think he would…I just…Oh God." She broke down, and Mary was immediately there, hugging the woman's shoulders. Josiah looked to the boys, and was interested to see the look of maturity in Jeremy's eyes. The ten year old stood up and patted his mother's arm.

"It'll be alright, momma. You'll see. They'll bring pa home. Don't worry." His voice sounded so old at that moment that Belinda couldn't ignore it. Looking up, she saw the conviction in her eldest son's face and couldn't resist a smile.

"Yes, son, of course. Of course they will."

___________________________________

The brief moment of exultation that had filled Ezra upon knocking that outlaw off his horse had long since dissipated in the cold night air. It had occurred to him sometime back that he had left his hat at the hotel, and the wind seemed to be taken advantage of the fact by flinging as much debris and dirt into his face as possible. Not to mention the damn bugs.

He kept his head down as much as possible, and he swore he could feel bug carcasses building up in his hair, even though he knew full well that it was just dirt. Still, if there was one thing he hated the most in this world, it was bugs. He hated them. All of them. Who ever had invented mosquitoes, for example, had to have had really sick sense of humor. Or maybe they were just having a really bad day. Bees he could understand. Pollination and all that. Hell, even maggots had their place, decomposing the dead. But mosquitoes? No. No purpose whatsoever. Ezra had come to the conclusion that someone up there had just gotten bored, and decided to torment him personally by creating mosquitoes. The fact that mosquitoes had been on this earth far longer than the young southerner made absolutely no difference to this conclusion.

Yech.

Realizing that his concentration was drifting, along with his speed, Ezra risked peering out to see if he had made any progress. He gasped in surprise.

They were barely fifteen yards in front of him! Grinning, he lifted up his Colt, taking aim at the closest bandit's back.

Suddenly the world tilted, and his mare screamed as she lost her footing down a prairie dog hole. Habit was well engrained within the gambler, and he managed to loose his feet from the stirrups just before the mare crashed to the ground. He found himself pitched off to one side, his body trying to roll into the fall.

Someone was screaming, and, agonizingly, he realized it was himself. Pain exploded through his left shoulder as he landed hard, then rolled for several feet. Consciousness fled.

_________________________

The yell and the screaming horse brought the two remaining kidnappers' heads around, and one of them, the younger of the two, whooped with joy at seeing the gambler roll off into an unconscious heap. The one ponying Mr. Greene pulled the horses to a halt and steered them around.

"What are you doing, Billy?" the younger outlaw asked, reining in his own steed with a harsh tug.

"I wanna make sure he's dead, Les," Billy replied coarsely, roughly pulling at the reins of Greene's horse. "He killed Jonesy and got Paddy captured. I wanna make sure he's dead." With a snarl at the younger man, he headed back towards Ezra. Les sighed and followed.

Billy jogged the exhausted horses back to where Ezra's mare was trying desperately to stand, but she couldn't get her twisted leg to move. Les clicked his tongue sadly, and leapt down off his horse to go check on her.

Billy looked at Mr. Greene, his lips curling into a nasty smirk. Mr. Greene's dark brown eyes were watering, as much from fear as the horrible ride, and his lips trembled around the ugly gag on his mouth. Billy didn't care. He lifted the rifle from up off his saddle and swung it around to knock Mr. Greene on the side of the head. The apothecary went limp in the saddle.

"Just in case you got any ideas about running off, poisoner," the outlaw whispered, the nasty smile fading.

"She's broken her leg, looks like in a couple of places," Les informed his partner, staring down at the mare and scratching his face with the barrel of his colt peacemaker. Billy frowned at the information and jumped down out of the saddle.

"Then shoot her. I'll see about our friend over there."

Les sighed and pulled his Spencer Carbine from off his saddle, holstering his peacemaker at the same time into his cross draw holster. He was checking to make sure the heavy rifle was loaded when Billy moved over to Ezra. The gambler had wound up on his back, left arm outstretched at an odd angle, his head tilted away from Billy. Billy tapped him with his foot.

BANG!

The ear-deafening gunshot from the Carbine startled the older outlaw for a moment, and he turned to check on Les. His partner was shaking his head and looking down at the now dead horse, a thin trail of smoke wisping up from out of the rifle's barrels.

Ezra's eyes flew open at the loud roar of the rifle, but, seeing the distracted Billy standing over him, he quickly shut his eyes again. When Billy looked back down, the gambler looked exactly the same.

Billy pursed his lips and crouched down next to him, poking the gambler in the ribs. When Ezra didn't respond, that same ugly smirk split the outlaw's chapped lips.

"He dead?" Les asked casually, moving back to his horse to put his Spencer away.

"Yeah, I think so. Don't mean I can't shoot a few extra bullets in him to make sure, eh?" Billy laughed, turning his head once more to look at Les. The younger man didn't respond, just shrugged his shoulders.

"Whatever. We best get moving quick, though. There's bound to be more of 'em coming."

Billy made a face, and turned back to his prey, only to find a derringer pointed directly at his right eye.

"Tell your friend to drop his gun," Ezra whispered hoarsely.

Billy's mouth opened and shut a couple of times. The gambler flexed an eyebrow.

"I have no qualms about killing you sir. However, I'd rather not, as I hate getting blood on my clothes unless absolutely necessary. Now, please, tell your partner to drop his guns, and you do the same, or I will shoot a rather large hole through your skull."

Billy swallowed harshly and licked his lips, his eyes never leaving the tip of the derringer. "L…Les?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you to drop your guns," Billy said.

"My what? What are you…Oh," Les came around to get a better view, his Spencer still in his hands. He clicked his tongue again, this time in annoyance. "Damn it Billy, I thought you said he was dead."

"Well, he would been…"

"Drop your guns!" Ezra ordered, his eyes flashing. He was still lying down, but his right arm was rock steady where it held the derringer in Billy's face. "Now!"

The older outlaw threw his rifle to the side and raised his hands up.

Les pursed his lips and turned tired eyes to check on their prize. Greene was still limp in the saddle, and Les nodded slightly. He was considering which was worth more to him, and, frankly, there wasn't much of a contest.

"Sorry Billy," Les smiled lazily, raising and cocking the Spencer. Billy shouted and tried to throw himself backwards out of the way, but Ezra was even quicker. The gambler dropped his arm and aimed at Les, shooting the younger man straight between the eyes before the Spencer even moved. The heavy rifle shot harmlessly, if loudly, into the dirt.

Billy scrambled back and tried to get his own rifle up and cocked, yelling bloody murder at the top of his lungs. Ezra pulled his arm around and shot the last outlaw through the temple, his expression neutral.

And it was over.

The gambler fell back to the ground, staring up at the stars with glazed eyes, and blew out the breath he was holding. For the second time that night, an amazed grin lit his face.

_______________________________

"Ezra!" Vin shouted, hearing the volley of shots clearly. They could see the horses and men ahead, but were still too far away to discern who was standing and who wasn't. Both lawmen had their guns up and raised as they barreled at full gallop towards the camp, any thoughts about their own safety banished when they realized that no one appeared to be standing. Even Mr. Greene on the back of his dappled gray looked dead from this distance.

Slowly, they saw a moonlit figure push himself up with one arm and stagger a few steps before coming to a halt. Chris sighed a sigh of relief, instantly recognizing the shape of the man's swallowtail jacket. Vin whooped.

Ezra moved forward to lean against Mr. Greene's horse, the confused animal watching him warily, and reached up to feel for the apothecary's pulse. The gambler blew air out through his cheeks when he found it strong and steady, and turned around to await Chris and Vin. He smiled broadly as they pulled up in front of him, tucking his left arm inside the brace from the shoulder holster, and raising his right in greeting.

"You disappoint me, gentleman. I expected you a full five minutes ago," he chastised, earning him a wry look from Chris.

"What happened?" the gunslinger asked, looking at the mess.

"Oh," Ezra waved his right hand dismissively about the area, "I saved the day, of course. Through my usual cunning and superior gunmanship, I managed to outwit both miscreants and rescue our hapless apothecary." He coughed slightly, then the self-satisfied grin was back on his face.

"You mean, you got lucky," Chris deadpanned, pulling out a knife to sever Mr. Greene's bonds.

"Hell yes," the gambler agreed fervently, eyes closing in a short thank you to the capricious goddess. He opened them again when he heard Vin whistle appreciatively as he checked over the two outlaws.

"Damn, Ez. You're getting better with them guns of yours. You got 'em both dead center."

"Certainly dead," Chris teased, reaching up to tap Mr. Greene's cheek. Ezra face pinched slightly at Vin's accolade (and at Chris's aside).

"It is amazing what one can do with the proper incentive, Mister Tanner, " he replied. "For, as they say, beggars can't be choosers…." Sighing, he stepped back to lean heavily against the gray's flank. Interestingly, the horse didn't sidestep, proving it to be well trained.

Chris had been watching the apothecary regain his senses, but he looked over at Ezra when he heard the exhaustion leech into the younger man's tone.

"You all right, Ezra?" he asked softly, all joking aside.

Sensing the concern, the gambler just nodded and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he found Chris by his side with a firm grip on his right arm. He was stopping the gambler from falling.

"Let's get you home. Nathan should see to that shoulder of yours."

"How's Buck?" Ezra asked, suddenly remembering the ladies man's yell from the town. Chris's jaw tensed, answering Ezra's question.

"Oh hell," the gambler whispered, looking away.

___________________________

"That's it. That's all I can do," Nathan concluded, tying off the dressing.

JD was calmer now, his eyes measuring the rise and fall of Buck's chest. "Do you want to move him to the clinic?"

"No…not until he's a bit more stable. The wound may not have been mortal, JD, but he has lost a lot of blood. I think it may have clipped the artery going to the arm. I've done what I could to staunch the flow, but…," he grimaced. "He'll need to stay immobile for a few days, until I'm sure he'll be alright."

"It'd be no trouble, Mr. Jackson, fer me to set up a room fer you 'ere," Virginia said quietly. She was still in the room, having been the one to fetch clean water when Nathan asked for it. "I know Judge Travis'll cover the cost, and it's slow now, being March an' all."

Nathan smiled, "That'd be great, Miss Virginia. Thank you."

She returned the smile. "A pleasure, sir. I'll go set it up now, then, if you won't be needing naught else?" When he shook his head to say no, she turned the smile on JD and bustled from the room.

"I was going to give you my room, Nathan, since I don't plan on leaving this one, but Virginia beat me."

"She's a nice lady," the healer remarked absently, standing up to stretch.

"Yeah." JD still sat next to Buck, brushing the ladies man's hair back. Sweat was already beading on the older man's forehead, though Nathan had promised any fever would be low.

"Let's move him off the floor, huh?" Nathan said, watching the kid. JD nodded, and stood as well. He blinked as he looked out the still open window, his natural curiosity returning as his fear lessened.

"By the way, where is everybody?" the kid asked.

To Be Continued…(Don't worry, I won't have you waiting long) -- Tipp