PART 1:
Chris stood outside the livery, giving his saddlebags one last check to ensure he had everything he needed for the journey. They'd be out for three days to deliver James Whitaker to Rockville. There had been threats against Whitaker's life recently, and Judge Travis had asked Four Corners to provide an escort.
It would be a fairly easy journey. The March weather was mild and the journey to Ridge City would be easily completed in a day. The trek to Rockville from Ridge City would take longer, but the terrain wouldn't be difficult. After dropping off Whitaker, it would be an easy trek to Four Corners. He didn't mind. He'd have good company.
Chris had been looking forward to spending some time with Buck. He'd come to miss the easygoing man's company. Often, he found himself in various configurations with the others, in threes or fours. Recently, there hadn't been many one-on-one situation for him, where he could just kick back and be himself with an old friend.
Buck was comfortable, like an old jacket. Easy to have around. They had memories together. They had history. He didn't have to say anything and Wilmington was fine with that.
Larabee smiled, feeling more relaxed than he had in months. It was going to be a fine few days, indeed.
"Hey, Big Dog!" he heard Buck's cheerful greeting.
"Buck," Chris returned and looked up. "Vin," he added, seeing the tracker alongside Wilmington. "You gonna get your stuff, Buck?" he asked puzzled to find Wilmington coming empty-handed.
"Yeah, about that," Buck responded. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he didn't want to say what came next.
"Out with it," Larabee insisted.
"You see," Buck said. "Charlotte…"
"Uh- huh."
"Well, Charlotte, you know how sweet she is. Sweet Charlotte," Buck drew out, "she's as lovely as a summer morning, and as temperate as a spring."
"As chilly as December you mean," Vin stopped him.
Buck put up a hand. "Now, that's the thing. See, she's warmed a bit."
"What about it, Buck?" Chris asked.
"Seein' as a thaw was upon her, she let me know that she'd appreciate a little time with ol' Buck, here," and he smiled wide, pressing a hand to his chest. "How could I say no?"
"Easy," Chris replied. "You say, 'No, I got obligations.'" He shoved his rifle into its scabbard a little forcefully.
"It's okay, Chris. I got it taken care of. Ezra's coverin' for me," Buck said quickly.
Chris stopped, his hand still on the rifle, and glared at Buck.
"He's next on the roster," Buck explained. "And he didn't offer much fuss when I told him he was goin' instead."
"Wouldn't be Ezra if he didn't fuss at you a bit," Vin added.
"Actually, he seemed to be keen on the idea," Buck said.
Chris sighed, dipping his head a moment, before turning to Vin. "What about you?" he asked. "You can swap out with Wilmington."
Vin smiled. "Charlotte has a sister," he reminded. "And Loretta is a lovely thing. Always had an eye for me." He smiled beatifically. "She hums when she's happy." And he hummed a few notes.
Chris glowered, staring at his packed saddle, trying to calm his mind. What once was an enjoyable journey was turning into a…
"Damnation! I have no idea why anyone would want to be up at this hour," the annoyed southern voice sounded near them. Standish came strutting toward them, his bags thrown over his shoulder. He looked exasperated. "Much too early for my tolerance. It won't take a full day to reach Ridge City, so there's no reason for such an early start."
"Ezra, it's already after nine," Chris told him sharply.
Ezra staggered as if assaulted. He pulled his watch from his pocket and looked at it in disbelief. "Good Lord, I hardly knew this hour of the day existed!" He returned his watch to his pocket. "Still, it appears to be a pleasant day and I believe we'll have an enjoyable journey in spite of the early start." He nodded as if his saying it made it so.
Chris glanced unhappily to Buck and Vin, who just shook their heads at him.
"We'll have plenty of time for conversation," Ezra said smiling winningly.
"Get your horse ready. We gotta go," Chris told him.
Ezra gave him a salute and a grin. He sauntered into the livery, as if he had all the time in the world.
"I may have to kill him," Chris said.
"We all feel that way sometimes," Buck conceded.
Vin added, "He's a pain in the ass."
"And my hearing is just fine," Ezra replied from within the building as he set down his bags and started to prep his horse, humming quietly.
Vin smiled, humming too as he draped an arm over Buck's shoulder and the two turned toward the saloon.
"Good luck," Buck called back. "You'll need it."
Chris frowned, watching them go. He could already feel the headache forming.
..7.7.7
Ezra was doing his best to make the ride enjoyable. He knew Larabee wasn't much for conversation, but he could fill the quiet.
"It was the most amazing thing," he said cheerfully as he rode alongside Larabee. "I had the lot of them eating out of the palm of my hand." And he gestured, pantomiming. "Not one of them had a whit of sense or the ability to discern that I'd managed to finagle the lion's share of their coffers. I can't even imagine their expressions when they discovered what had happened." And he laughed cheerfully. "I came out of that situation much better off than I'd started."
"So, you cheated and stole from them."
Hmm, that sounded a little harsh. Ezra, flipped his extended hand over. "They'd cheated me first," he defended. "I was only taking back what they'd taken from me, with a little interest for my troubles."
"A man should be above such things," Chris told him.
Really? "And you can tell me that you've never sought vengeance for a slight?"
That probably wasn't wise. The look Chris served him was as hot as Hades. "Ezra, has anyone ever told you that you're most tolerable in small doses?"
"Not in so many words, but it's the inkling I get, often," Ezra replied. It was true. He talked too much, but he wanted to take advantage of the situation. He was often paired with the others on patrols and missions, but for some reason, he rarely ended up with the gunslinger.
It couldn't be just chance.
He had been monopolizing the time. That wasn't kind. "Certainly, Mr. Larabee," he tried, "You have an interesting tale or two to tell? Mr. Wilmington can describe some impressive stories." He chuckled. "The trouble you two managed to find was impressive indeed."
"Wilmington talks, too much," Larabee responded. "Almost as bad as you."
"Well now," Ezra said playfully, "Am I to take that as an insult?"
"You would if you had any sense whatsoever," Chris replied churlishly.
Well, that was that. Larabee would prefer silence. That was no surprise.
Over the years, he'd become close to all the others, but Larabee, it seemed, forever kept him at arm's length. Well, he'd make the man happy, and remain quiet for the rest of the ride. It wouldn't be that long, right?
He pulled his watch from his pocket to check the time, and frowned. Hours remained. Great. He looked up to see Chris glaring at him for checking the time. He sheepishly slipped the watch back into his waistcoat pocket.
He just couldn't do right by the man, no matter how hard he tried. And he'd actually wanted to take this journey, had actually been pleased when Buck asked for the swap. But Chris seemed angry from the start.
Something had definitely put a bee in his bonnet!
And now he'd signed up for two more days of angry Larabee. He'd do his best to keep the man happy. He'd leave him alone and hopefully get out of this little journey unscathed.
This was fun.
.7.7.7
They continued toward Ridge City. Chris pressed their horses to make it there quickly. He didn't notice it immediately, but Ezra had fallen behind a half-pace. No longer abreast, it was enough that Chris didn't have to see him constantly.
It was a relief, and Chris appreciated the quiet for the rest of the ride.
They reached Ridge City in the early afternoon, with plenty of time to settle in for the night.
"We should check on this Whitaker," Chris said as arrived at the livery. "See what we have in store for us tomorrow." He dismounted and untied his bags.
Ezra nodded. "An excellent idea, Mr. Larabee," he said congenially as he gazed toward one of the town's saloons. "Let's get this completed, and enjoy the rest of the afternoon."
They found rooms at the hotel, and went in search of Whitaker, who owned a house in town. It was a pretty place, painted white and blue, with flowers blooming in the yard. Whitaker greeted the pair at the door and showed them in.
James was an unassuming looking politician, about 40 years old, with dark hair, carefully styled. He had a narrow face with sharp cheekbones. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance," he said smoothly as he invited the men into his parlor. "And am looking forward to our journey. I wish your presence wasn't necessary, but there have been threats made."
"Think nothing of it," Ezra responded. "The Honorable Judge Travis has decided that this is a reasonable use of our time and resources, and who are we to disagree?"
"Who you got gunnin' for you?" Larabee asked bluntly. "I'd like to know what I'm up against."
Whitaker grimaced. "My rival, Simon Wallace, has made some comments. I would like to think he's above such behavior, but it's hard to ignore. And, one must be careful. He said that he'd end my campaign permanently."
"Caution is a good plan of action," Ezra responded. "And what is the office that you seek?" he asked.
"Governor," Whitaker responded. "Once we attain statehood"
Both men let out quiet sighs.
Whitaker laughed. "Sooner or later this territory will become a state, and I aim to be the one that wrassles it into the civilized world."
"Wrassles?" Ezra repeated.
And James smiled. "Someone has to," he responded. "And I am just the man to take on this responsibility. I have the drive and ambition. I see great things for this territory in the coming years."
There was a noise behind him, and a woman appeared at his shoulder. She wore a pretty yellow dress and long dark-blonde hair fell down her back in a loose braid. "Oh, Jim," she said. "You're not campaigning now." She smiled sweetly.
"Gentleman," Whitaker responded with a flourish. "May I introduce my lovely wife, Mrs. Della Whitaker."
"Ma'am," Chris nodded.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Whitaker," Ezra said extending a hand. "A true pleasure."
"Della," she corrected with a smile. "You must call me Della."
Ezra smiled congenially. "But, of course. And you must call me Ezra. And this gentleman should probably be referred to as Mr. Larabee?" and he gestured to Chris.
"Larabee is fine," Chris responded, then added, "Chris."
She smiled, shaking their hands and blushing sweetly. "Ezra, Chris, would you like a cup of tea or maybe some lemonade?"
Ezra started to respond, but Chris cut him off, "No, ma'am, we're just here to get things straight for Mr. Whitaker when we leave tomorrow."
She nodded. "Excellent. What time would you like us to be ready?"
Ezra and Chris exchanged glances, and returned their gaze to Della. "Us?" Chris repeated.
Della nodded earnestly. "Jim, Ansel and I will be ready whenever you say."
Chris turned his gaze on Whitaker. "Three of you?"
James nodded. "Yes, didn't Travis tell you?" He stopped short. "I can't exactly leave my family here when someone's been making threats. They'll be accompanying me to the debate."
Chris looked to Ezra again, who had an amused expression. "It's always a surprise, Mr. Larabee," Standish said.
..7
They spent a short time with the Whitakers, going over what they should bring with them for the ride, what to expect, and to find out more about the threat. Chris was his usual curt self, and Ezra did his best to make things sound easier. It wasn't as if they were going on a death march.
When Chris asked for more information about the threats, Whitaker showed them the letter that stated there would be consequences if he stayed in the race. It wasn't signed, and there was no proof that it came from Wallace, but with the verbal threat heard earlier, it was easy to put two and two together.
"I suppose that comes with the job," James said unhappily. "I'm sorry that Judge Travis seemed to think this required your presence."
"Better safe than sorry," Ezra declared, and then asked, "Can you tell me anything about your rival, this Simon Wallace. Do you know what he has for store for you in Rockville?"
"About his threats, this is all I know," Whitaker said, gesturing to the letters. "But as for his campaign…" He paused and drew in his breath. "I hear he'll have a balloon in Rockville."
"Come again?" Ezra asked.
Della stepped in, "He has a gas balloon, has hired a balloonist. Rockville has plenty of coal and a supply of coal gas available. So, Wallace has been printing up flyers, saying that he's flying a balloon at the debate." She picked up a paper from a side table.
"How can a balloon decide a debate?" Chris questioned.
"Theatrically," Ezra put in, as he took the flyer from Della. "Vote Wallace" was printed across the top of the page, and beneath it, a woodcut of a spectacular balloon with a gondola basket beneath it. "Oh, it will be a spectacle."
Whitaker nodded. "He's planning to rise above the crowd with it after the debate, and give a speech from it while it's tethered."
"That will cause heads to turn," Ezra said, "or more specifically, turn up!" He demonstrated by tilting his head toward the ceiling. "Speaking from above the crowd is well-known tactic in asserting ones will over others. Speaking from the height of a balloon would only multiply that effect, I would think."
"Grandstanding," Chris grumbled.
"A very dependable ways to sway the public," Ezra told him. "This says the balloonist will take flight with it after the debate – fly out over the desert. Amazing!" That would be something to witness!
Whitaker sighed. "I don't see how I can compete."
"By being a better man than Wallace," Della told him.
James smiled and nodded.
And shortly after that, they departed.
"I hear the saloons calling to me," Ezra said wistfully as they made their way out of the little neighborhood and toward the main street. "They have such enticing voices."
Chris frowned. "We're starting early tomorrow, Ezra. Don't do anything stupid."
"I do stupid all day long," Ezra responded as he pulled his watch from his pocket to check the time. "And I clearly recall that you declared 7 o'clock as an advisable time for departure. The wisdom seems debatable…" It was awfully early.
"It'll be a long day," Chris replied. "And adding more people is just gonnna make it more difficult."
"Exponentially!" Ezra declared, slipping his pocket watch back into his waistcoat. One person could be easily protected with two men. It allowed one man to stay close at all time, leaving the other to ride reconnaissance. Changing the ratio from 2-1 to 2-3 would make things trickier, but still manageable, as long as nothing went wrong.
"And because of that early hour," Ezra continued, "I will do my best to enjoy my evening. Tomorrow will be arduous, no doubt." He said the word as if it carried great weight, and stopped walking because they'd reached the first saloon – a tidy looking place called Cock-o-the-Walk. He gave it a quick appraisal and then turned to Larabee. "Would you care to join me in a libation to start the night?"
"I'm going to my room," Larabee told him.
That was expected. Ezra touched his hat. "Then, I will see you in the morning, sir, at the residence of the Whitakers. 7:00 AM sharp!"
Chris sighed, and gave him a nod before continuing down the street toward the hotel.
Ezra watched him go, then allowed the siren song of the saloon call him in.
.7.7.7
The sun had just risen and the air was crisp with the desert chill when Larabee made his way to the Whitaker house. He hadn't expected Ezra at breakfast, knowing the man would sleep until the last minute, but was a little surprised to find Ezra waiting for him at the Whitakers' residence, with the horses ready. Ezra said nothing when Larabee approached, simply nodding, then turning to walk with him to the front door.
The house was lit and awake, and they could hear a bustle of people just inside the door. Larabee's quick rap brought instant quiet and the door flung open. They were greeted with Della's smile. She was dressed, ready for a ride. "Good morning," she said. "Have you eaten?"
"Yes, ma'am," Chris responded quickly. Beside him, Ezra peered around her, as if looking to see if anything good was being offered.
"Oh, good, good," she returned as she picked up her bag and came through the doorway. "I suppose we should be going. Isn't this exciting?"
"Yes, indeed it is," Ezra replied, smiling at her enthusiasm. He took her bag and offered his elbow. She giggled and gently wrapped her arm around his.
James was next, looking austere and nervous. He nodded a greeting to the two men. "Grady is bringing the horses around," he explained. He then turned and said quietly, "Come on, Anse, it's time to go."
The boy was about seven-years-old, with hair the color of his father, but the full and friendly face of his mother. He looked up at Larabee in trepidation.
Larabee paused, pursing his lips as he looked down on the boy. Adam… he looks like Adam. Good God, if Adam was alive today…
The boy's gaze stayed on him, his eyes widening at something he saw in Chris' expression.
Ezra broke the spell.
"Well, well, well, Mr. Whitaker, I thought you said a child would be joining us. This would appear be a young man." He set down Della's bag and extended a hand. "Master Whitaker," he said. "May I introduce myself? I am Ezra Standish and will be joining you on this journey."
They solemnly shook hands. Ezra grinned widely. "I'm looking forward to making your acquaintance, young sir. Perhaps you can keep me company?"
Ansel nodded. Ezra threw a smile toward Larabee and brought his little crew down the stairs, leaving Chris to pick up Della's bag.
Larabee sighed, and took care of the responsibility. This was going to be a long day.
TBC - I'm sure everything is going to be just fine. Nothing is going to happen on the journey. They'll all get there intact, right?