He sat, staring into the distance, knowing he should be moving, but having trouble motivating himself to make the effort. Ezra had known when he forced himself out of bed this morning that this was not going to be his best day, but he had no idea just how accurate that assessment would prove to be.
He was up early, at least by his standards, due to an unfortunate cutting of the cards. His luck ran much better at poker than high/low cuts, especially when he was not allowed to shuffle the deck. Chris had unfortunately made that discovery some time ago. Drawing a lowly 4 of clubs meant he was relegated to the role of errand boy. Judge Travis would be in White Rock that afternoon, and there were papers to be delivered, and new wanted posters to recover. Always willing to look for a silver lining in the worst of storms, Ezra anticipated finding new opponents for a few hands of poker in the evening. Something to make the trip worthwhile would ease the discomfort of the voyage. He also knew it would give him the opportunity to restock his personal supply of brandy, as he knew of at least one saloon there where he could make a few purchases. With luck, he may even find one or two new additions to his wardrobe in town.
Chris rained on that parade with the reminder this was not a vacation, and was in fact a trip that could be made in a day, especially on such a fine horse as Chaucer. At best, if there were delays, he was expected to be on his way back to Four Corners at first light, and if he wasn't, there would be consequences. Still, that allowed for an evening at the tables, and the replenishing of his liquor cabinet, so all was not lost.
His enthusiasm faded as the morning had progressed, and he was wondering how he ever thought any good could come of such a ridiculous venture. The sun was brutally hot, and was almost directly overhead. He dreaded the fact that, as he continued to head west, he would be staring into it for the duration of the day. The ride was uncommonly boring. He was surprised to discover just how much he was missing the companionship that usually happened on rides such as this, more often than not with Vin or Josiah riding with him. But Josiah, this time with Buck, had headed north the day before to assist in a hunt for a gang of rustlers and horse thieves, and Vin was staying in town to help with patrols. Nathan was off on a healing mission that Ezra had missed the details of. Given there were few duties as uneventful as mail delivery, he was off on his own. He was used to that. Patrols were generally solo outings, but at least they provided the opportunity to visit with homesteaders in the area. But today his time passed slowly on an empty ride with as much time still ahead of his as he had already endured.
He was wishing he could simply call it a day, and was about to express that opinion to Chaucer when a shot ricocheted off the rocks beside him. That was the moment, as he tumbled from the saddle and dove for cover, that his bad day went completely to hell.
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Ezra felt he'd been lucky to find water and shade again so easily and was in no rush to leave either behind. He couldn't possibly get so lucky again. It would be a much longer walk to the next such refuge, he was sure.
Even longer, given the state he was in. The sun continued to beat down mercilessly on him. He'd been so grateful for the clear skies when he had started out, but now cursed the absence of even a single cloud. He had no recollection of what had happened to his hat. He knew he'd been wearing one. It would have been beyond foolish to travel on such a day without one, not to mention the fact that a gentleman never left home without it. It must have been lost when he was shot at and fell from his horse.
Yes, that was right. He'd been shot at. He checked himself over quickly and concluded that while he was in at least five kinds of pain, none of them could be attributed to a bullet. He remembered scrambling for cover while watching Chaucer bolt, with his usual dignity, grace and speed, in the opposite direction, taking his own shelter behind a small grove of trees. As the memory flashed before him, he could see his hat being crushed by the charging hooves. He wondered in passing how long it would take to get another such hat custom made and delivered. For that matter, he could not be certain that the hat maker he favoured in Atlanta was even still in business. He was also less than certain that he would make it back to Four Corners to place the order.
That sent his mind back to cataloguing the list of reasons he never expected to see home again, making a concerted effort not include the main reason. He was, by a rough estimate, anywhere from 15 to 20 miles away from the comfort of his feather bed, which he found himself longing for as the thought entered his mind. It was hardly an insurmountable walk to make, but those damnable extenuating circumstances changed the outlook. First, there was the lack of water. Granted, he had located a small source at for the moment. Not an abundant fresh supply, but almost exactly like the last fortunate discovery, it was rainwater from storms on the previous day. The only difference between the two locations had been the lesser amount of water in the current spot. As the day passed, evaporation reduced his chances for finding another oasis. Yet another reason cloud cover would have been welcomed. Just to add insult to injury, he had nothing to collect any in to take with him should he decide to head out again. His canteen, and other supplies, were all still with Chaucer.
No – his mind was not going there now. Back to the list. Sun and no water. What else?
Well, there was the matter of the myriad of bumps and bruises that plagued him. The tumble from Chaucer had been anything but gentle, landing on hard-packed ground and rock. He didn't believe anything had been broken, but would have bet was what left of last week's winnings that a couple of ribs were at least cracked. His shoulder hurt, but as that was an almost perpetual condition he wasn't certain if should factor into the equation. Of far greater impact was his knee. He could see the fabric of his pants was pulled tight to his leg due to the swollen joint. It didn't require Nathan's diagnostic skills to know that it was at minimum badly turned. He only hoped the damage was not of a permanent nature, although he had no doubt that walking on it was only making matters worse. The branch he was using as a cane offered some support, but was playing havoc with his hands and shoulder.
"There is no purpose to be served arguing the point Standish," he informed himself, "you are in a predicament." It sounded good to hear a human voice, even if it was his own. Of course, Buck would have observed the given Ezra's fondness for speaking, his own voice was probably his favourite. "It is probable you will traverse less than a mile before the will to continue diminishes completely. Oh, good Lord, listen to yourself. Even in a solitary conversation you feel the need to impress. Precisely who do you think you are fooling now?"
He sat upright again, pulling himself toward the puddle that seemed to be vanishing before his eyes. He removed his jacket, not bothering to hide the groan as he was reminded of his injuries. He then did the same with his shirt, dropping it into the puddle to absorb as much of the water as possible. It wasn't much, but it would allow him to carry some hydration when he set on his way again. He wrapped the shirt in the jacket to keep the moisture protected. He thought fleeting of what the sun would do to his exposed skin, but that could not be helped. He cursed the fact that, in his desire to not overheat for the day, he had decided against an undershirt when he dressed that morning.
"Perhaps Ezra," he advised himself, "you would be better off spending the afternoon here and moving forward after the sun as set further, allowing the day to cool." It was a good place for shelter, facing as it did away from the burning mid-day rays. Of course, the downside of that idea was the very real possibility he would fall asleep and not wake up when planned. Or at all, but he preferred to keep that notion at bay for the moment.
The decision was made for him when he tried to stand, putting weight on the bad leg. He let out a shriek that would have shattered glass, and was inordinately relieved there was no one close enough to hear it. He spoke to himself again as he landed back on the ground. "Yes, an extended rest period is most assuredly the sensible option." With what remained of his rapidly dwindling energy he dragged himself over to the small shelter offered by some overhanging rocks. He leaned back, closing his eyes and falling asleep almost instantly. The realization that he had left his water bundle out in the sun never entered his mind.
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"We best ease back on the horses some Chris. In this heat we'll wear them out, and that won't do us or Ezra any good."
Chris reluctantly pulled up on the reins. He knew Vin was right, but couldn't shake the feeling that there was an urgency to their search, and he hated to waste more time.
"Just wish I'd known what I was sending him into." He said for what seemed like the 100th time.
"What makes you so sure he ran into trouble?"
"It's Ezra. Of course he ran into trouble."
Vin shrugged his agreement with the obvious. "Well, even if that's so, you had no way of knowing the Olson's would split up and some of them head west, until we got the telegram from Buck. And heading west still doesn't mean they'll cross paths."
"Vin, I should have known that if there is trouble anywhere in the territory, Ezra would find a way to stumble into the middle of it." They rode on in silence for several minutes. Vin scanned the horizon with his spyglass whenever something appeared promising, only to sigh and lower it each time.
Neither man was fond of small talk, but their nerves made them more anxious than usual for companionship. Vin chose to break the silence. "What do we know about these guys?"
Chris thought back to the posters he had checked out before they left. "Steal anything not nailed down, but generally focus on horses and cattle. Didn't mention murder, but they were listed as dangerous. From what Buck said, the posse he and Josiah joined up with got their part or the gang, but seems like 4 or 5 of them split off. No idea why. They usually take over ranch houses while the hands are away. Like to ambush folks as well."
"That's the part that's got you worried."
"All of it has me worried. He'll be hot and bored, not expecting trouble – especially trouble like them."
"Chris, he survived on his own for years before we all got together. He knows how to take care of himself." Vin stopped again, thinking there might be something on the horizon.
"I know, and we're probably wasting our time." He stopped when he realized Vin wasn't listening. He looked in time to see Vin drop the glass back to his side. "Something's up there – something red."
Pony and Peso were spurred to a gallop. Chris kept watch around, aware this could well be a trap. If that was Ezra's jacket, it was the perfect bait.
Vin dismounted before Peso had stopped moving, grabbing his canteen as he charged toward the form on the ground. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when he saw Ezra weakly raise his arm.
"Easy Pard. Stand down. No need to start shooting anyone." The gun didn't move. "Ezra, it's Vin. I got Chris here with me. We've been looking for you." Ezra squinted into the sun, able to make out only a silhouette. It sounded like Vin, but why would he be here?
"Put down the damn gun Standish." Oh yes, no question. That was definitely Chris. A rather pissed of Chris at that. Ezra dropped his head and arm back to the ground, watching the men move closer. Then it dawned on him, he was staring into the sun. How could it be morning again. He couldn't have slept the whole night? It didn't feel like he'd been out that long. He wanted to ask, but found his mouth to dry to speak. He could feel his lips crack when he tried.
"Don't Ez. Don't even try. Chris, we gotta get him outta the sun now."
Looking down at their friend, they realized this was easier said than done. The leg was clearly injured, there was blood on his head and bruising everywhere. That paled next to the burns and small blisters marking his arms and chest. He'd been in the sun far too long, easily several hours, without cover. The damage was evident. When Ezra tried to move on his own Chris went to hold him down, but had no clue of where he could hold without torturing him. He hoped his tone would be sufficient.
"He said don't move Ezra, so damn it, stay still. You're dry as dust, burned up and that leg look all kinds of bad. Don't make it worse. Nathan's a long ride away and we don't have his potions here."
"Thank heaven for small blessings" Ezra thought. A second later he changed his mind. Even those vile potions would at least provide the liquid he so craved right now. At the mention of potions Vin jumped up and ran to his saddlebags. Chris had questioned the stop earlier in the day to collect cactus stalks. Now, the pulp from them would serve to ease some of the burns and chapping. He gently applied the salve to Ezra's face, only to have him try to pull back when his skin was touched.
"Sorry Ez. I know it hurts, but I gotta do this. It'll feel better soon." Chris had taken a clear rag from his bag and soaked it with canteen water. He held it to Ezra's mouth. "Here, suck on this."
"Hardly my style." He whispered through slightly soothed lips.
"Yeah, well the good crystal is back in Four Corners, so this'll have to do. The canteen would hurt your mouth, and you can't take too much at once." Ezra swallowed gratefully, almost sobbing with relief as the moisture coated his throat. He was surprised when a moment later cramps caused him to tighten up in pain. Vin tried to hold him still, one hand on his head, the other on the uninjured leg. "See, too much. You're dehydrated Ezra. Heat stroke. We gotta do this nice and slow. I'm gonna fix the burns, then we'll try to cool you down more." Vin coated the cracked lips again, then made ready to try to treat the remaining injuries. He'd had a chance to look at the burns, and as bad as they were, he was relieved to find they did seem to be as deep as he thought.
"I'm gonna put some more lotion on you now. You ain't gonna be dealing cards for a few days, and even putting on a shirt is gonna hurt like hell, but I think this likely feels worse than it is." Ezra closed his eyes and braced for what he knew would be a painful experience.
Chris stood, trusting Vin to take care of the injuries. He wanted to be sure they were alone. Besides, he doubted Ezra wanted a witness to the process. He spoke softly to let Vin know his plan.
"No need – the miscreants are far off." Ezra didn't miss much, even when out of it like this.
"Not that I doubt you, but I gonna take a look around just in case." After a mildly reassuring nod from Vin to confirm things were under control, Chris headed off to scout the area. When he returned about 20 minutes later Ezra was resting with his eyes closed. The tight lines on his face told of the pain he had been in, and likely still was, but he looked better. His hands and arms were wrapped and his chest and face covered with damp cooling cloths. Vin had made an effort to salvage the red jacket, even while doubting it would measure up to its owner's standards again. He stood and walked toward Chris, leading him away the scene.
"Looks like he's been going in circles for a while." Chris stated. "Wore himself down going nowhere."
"Between the heat, dehydration and what looks to be a bump on the head, it doesn't surprise me."
"Hit his head too?"
Vin nodded, but didn't look worried. "Yeah, but he says his vision is okay, and he's not throwing up so I don't think it's too bad. He is confused. Asked me a couple of times what day it was. Seemed surprised it was still Thursday."
"What about his leg?"
"Messed up, like everything else. Walking on it didn't help. Don't suppose you saw any sign of Chaucer while you were riding?"
"No – I figure the Olsen's took him. Like we needed another reason to go after them."
"Surprised they were able to. You know what he's like when anybody else tries to get on him."
"Shit, if they hurt him Ezra's gonna be pissed. Make that more pissed. Look, you think he's OK to ride with one of us?"
"Yeah, as long as we take it slow. We'll be late getting in, but I doubt Nathan would approve of him staying out here all night. Be more comfortable at home, and the rest of us can set out sooner to get the bastards responsible for all of this." When Chris didn't answer, Vin looked directly at him. "That ain't you. This is not your fault Chris."
"Hope he feels the same way. You get him ready, I get the horses set. Better try wrapping the leg – keep it still." He reached into his bedroll and pulled out a spare shirt. "Try to get this on him. Should be loose enough to be tolerable."
"He's not gonna like that I cut those pants."
"Somehow, I think that's the last thing he's gonna care about right now." Chris replied sadly. He walked over to Pony and began preparing him.
"You got an extra load on the way back, but it's gonna be a nice and easy ride." There was no reaction from the horse, nor was he expecting one. Chaucer would have entered into a debate with Ezra and required bribery to agree to any such arrangement. Not for the first time, Chris shook his head at the unique pairing of man and beast. Never had he seen two beings so perfectly connected. He knew having Chaucer away from his side was the cause of much of Ezra's anxiety at the moment. Nathan was going to have to keep him sedated to stop him from trying to ride out with them in the morning.
He headed back over as Vin stood, brushing the dirt from his hands. He squatted on the other side. "Here's the plan Ezra. We're gonna get you home. You and me will ride back on Pony and can switch off to Peso if we have. Buck and Josiah should be getting in tonight, and come first light we're gonna ride out after the Olsen's. You stay put and rest. We'll bring Chaucer back for you."
Ezra's face fell at the mention of his horse. "Chaucer's gone," he said weakly.
"I know Ezra. That's why you're riding with me. But we'll get him back."
"No Chris. Chaucer is gone. They shot him Chris. Chaucer is dead."
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