On Earth Peace to Men of Goodwill

by DeniseV

It's a difficult Christmas in Four Corners, but there is hope for there to be on earth peace to men of goodwill. This is my 75th Magnificent Seven story. I know I find peace and satisfaction, challenge and comfort in telling my stories. I hope you all enjoy this, and have a Merry Christmas or otherwise happy holidays.

It was a damned nice homestead. What brought The Magnificent Seven way out here, several hours from town, was a bad sign. It was reminiscent of Josiah's crows, something he hadn't spoken of in a couple of years, except what strolled into town hours ago was more disturbing because of his familiarity to the lawmen. Little Joaquin walked down the main street of Four Corners, bloody and exhausted. After being looked after carefully, they all wondered at the determination of the little guy making it all the way to the dusty frontier town from his remote home, and worried a whole lot about what it meant about those he left behind at the ranch he called home.

"I can't believe we're out here getting shot at a week before Christmas because of that stubborn mule," Buck Wilmington said.

"Joaquin is a donkey, Buck," J.D. Dunne corrected his friend. "And there's more than a week 'til Christmas."

"Don't think he's talkin' about the burro, J.D.," the preacher Josiah Sanchez noted as they all kept as protected as possible behind trees, an old wagon, some large boulders. A bullet slapped against the edge of the wagon, pushing all of the seven farther down or behind their protective cover. "You're both right about this being wrong so close to the Lord's birthday."

Chris Larabee, the leader of the law enforcers of Four Corners, tried once again. "Mr. Samuelsson!" he called loudly, hoping that the old man would recognize his voice. The man who was shooting at them owned the property they patrolled that reached farthest from the town they called home. They visited him twice a week and he was very familiar with all of the men, welcoming them in for a bite to eat or a drink each time one of the seven stopped in. But Jacob Samuelsson was shooting at them all, recognition of the men who had helped him so many times out at his ranch completely gone. "It's Chris Larabee!" All that entreaty got the former gunslinger was a bullet from the rancher's never-ending supply of weapons. Jacob Samuelsson was a former military man, a hell of a good shot, and very fast at reloading.

"He ain't hearin' ya, Chris," Vin Tanner, their tracker and former bounty hunter said. "Figure he's relivin' the war. Been rememberin' it a lot lately."

"Yeah, well, this is wasting time." Chris looked around. "Nothin' looks wrong here. What happened to that donkey?" The only two things truly awry around the place were the missing donkey and the pine tree just off the front porch not donned in the Christmas regalia that Jacob Samuelsson was known for. The lawmen enjoyed visiting Jacob's place during the holidays, despite how far out the spread was from Four Corners proper. Since the peacekeepers started patrolling the outer territory three Christmases ago, Jacob could be counted on to make the season merry and bright. He was also a fine sausage maker and always gifted whoever visited with a batch of the tasty links. Jacob always decorated early, benefitting from the fact that he need not go out and chop down a tree each year; that the tree stood unadorned this close to the man's favorite holiday was a clear indicator that something was wrong. The bullets flying nearly immediately upon their arrival was but the third sign of trouble.

"Joaquin is his name," the gambler Ezra Standish offered from behind a nearby boulder.

"That's helpful, Ezra," Chris countered sarcastically.

Ezra shook his head. His friend just didn't think of animals as having souls, and therefore it was not an important thing for the man to remember their names. He hardly remembered the name of his own horse the first year Ezra knew him. Buck suggested that he had at one point in his life, before the loss of his wife and his son. It had seemed he no longer did, though the last year or so had improved in that regard, no doubt the influence of a good woman, her young son and six good friends. The former con man stood and faced the front door of the house.

"Ezra! Get down!" the healer Nathan Jackson demanded angrily.

"Mistah Samuelsson, Joaquin is fine. He is recuperatin' with the best oats on offer at the livery in town." A bullet screeched by, far too close for comfort. The Southerner sat back down behind his rock.

"Not your best moment there, son," Josiah chastised worriedly.

"Ah felt a new tactic was needed other than duck and don't shoot."

"It's just him," J.D. noted. "Shouldn't one or two of us go around back and get him?"

"That is a fine idea, J.D.," Ezra answered as he reached over and removed the jingle bells from his young friend's lapel and set the silver and gold on the rock beside them. "Follow me." And just like that, Ezra was gone from his spot and running a zig zag line for the nearby barn, drawing fire from Samuelsson inside the house.

"Damn it, Ezra!" Chris yelled. J.D. looked to his boss. "Hell, go follow him. We'll give you cover fire."

"Be careful, kid," Buck said. The two who would be brothers locked eyes and then J.D., too, ran an uneven pattern to the barn, easily avoiding the bullets heading his way. He reached Ezra at the corner of the old, solid barn. The shimmering gray of unfinished wood provided them little cover, though Samuelsson would have to come outside his front door to see them; the house had windows upstairs on that side, but not down.

"Are you ready?" the professional poker player asked, just barely winded from his sprint.

J.D. took a deep breath. "Yeah."

"Ah believe we can easily get to the back of the house."

"And then we just gotta go in the back," the young sheriff added.

"He is aware that we are tryin' for a rear entry. He saw us move. Jacob Samuelsson was a master tactician in the war," Ezra noted. "When his mind is not disturbed by moments re-lived from his past, he discussed his battle plans cogently in past conversation, a very interesting man. But he is now in a delusional state. At this moment, he does not know you, me or any of us."

"We can't kill him. He's a nice old man."

"We will not kill him. But you need to watch yourself," Ezra warned his young friend.

"I know."

"Very well. Let us be off."

Ezra departed first, J.D. following closely behind. They heard gunfire from their compatriots, and an occasional bullet from the direction of Jacob Samuelsson's porch. Ezra skidded to a stop at the corner of the rear of the house. J.D. came in too fast and was at risk of stopping in front of the back door … and possibly visible to the rancher. The gambler grabbed the sheriff by his arm and slowed him enough that he overshot Ezra's position by just a step or so.

"Thanks, Ez," J.D. said.

"Jacob!" the two lawmen heard, the name practically echoing from the familiar voice.

"Oh, no," J.D, said.

"Josiah," the gambler said softly. "What is he doin'?"

They heard a gunshot, and then Nathan and Chris' voices, yelling. J.D. and Ezra ran to the front corner of the building, and found Josiah, unconscious and bleeding, half on and half off of the front porch.

"Josiah," J.D. said. A bullet shattered the front window and screamed past the young Easterner's face. Ezra pulled him back to the side of the building.

"Chris!" Ezra called.

"We need to get to Josiah! Can you go around back and get Samuelsson?" Chris yelled back.

"What?" J.D. started. Ezra waved his hand to quiet him, then he called back to Chris.

"We are heading to the back!" he called back in reply.

"Why are we yelling that?" J.D. asked in a whisper. "Won't Jacob hear us?"

"Chris is using us to distract Mistah Samuelsson so that they can get to Josiah." J.D. nodded. Of course he was.

"Do you think Jacob will, I mean, has he gone crazy?" The young lawman liked the old rancher. He hoped that whatever was going on here today was temporary.

"We do not have time to think about that just now, son. Let us go act as a diversion so that Josiah may be removed from the line of fire."

The two lawmen hurried to the back of the house. Ezra turned to J.D. and said, "Go to the barn and release the horses and cattle. Open all of the gates to the corrals and pastures. Stay down, but make as much noise as you can." Ezra looked at J.D., shook his head and grabbed the hat from his friend's head. He tossed it on top of a box near the back door. J.D. looked angrily at the Southerner. "It will be safe there until this thing is through." J.D. seethed just a little, always annoyed when his friends picked on him about his hat. "Go," Ezra directed.

The noise was immediate as the old door of the barn scraped wood-on-wood and screeched rusty metal. J.D. took his gun and banged it against the threshold and shooed the horses out. He picked up a pitchfork to continue the noise-making. He kept the gun handy in his left hand as he scared horses, cows and pigs out of their enclosures.

Ezra waited at the corner of the house. He knew the deranged man would head out the back door once he realized all of his livestock was being let loose. Thunder roared, the thick clouds now more threatening as the situation escalated. Ezra wondered if Jacob Samuelsson would live through this day.

The rancher had owned his property for longer than the seven regulators lived in Four Corners. The location, hours from town, was beautiful, but unforgiving in its isolation. Before Samuelsson, other homesteaders had each tried to make a go of the place. It was a lot to ask. Everything was coated with dust. There was no live windbreak, though a row of dead trees was evidence of an attempt from years past. A stand of trees was needed to help cut off the prevailing winds that caused damage to property and animals. The property was set up such that the corrals had limited protection from the two barns and the house, but Samuelsson was attempting the impossible holding on to the ranch. The stresses of age and the persistent Southwest sun and wind made maintenance of the property on his own too much, so much that it seemed it had finally broken the man.

"What are ya doin'?" the rancher roared as he stepped out the back door. His mind may have been feebled, but his body still exhibited bulk and strength. He raised his rifle to fire toward J.D, but Ezra jumped at the man, knocking him down.

"Chris! Go!" he yelled. Samuelsson kicked out, catching a more-than-glancing blow to Ezra's thigh.

"Ah!" the card sharp yelled in pain. "Mistah Samuelsson, it is me, Ezra Standish," he said, knowing that whatever was going on with the man, he hadn't recognized any of them.

J.D. ran to his downed friend and the unwitting man. He had both of his guns out and said, "Jacob, you need to stay down." Samuelsson pulled his gun from his military-issue holster and aimed at J.D., a shot that would have proven deadly. It was Ezra's turn to kick the rancher. He used his feet to force the man to the ground. The gun discharged; the bullet scorched a path along J.D.'s upper arm, and continued its path toward the empty barn.

"Oomph!" the young sheriff uttered. He dropped the gun from his left hand from the impact as he fell to his knees. He wrapped his other hand, gun still in hand, over the steadily bleeding wound.

Ezra and Jacob Samuelsson exchanged blows. The large man from Sweden got the upper hand with a crushing blow to the gambler's stomach. As Vin came around the far side of the house, Samuelsson pulled another revolved from his pants' pocket and shot at the tracker. Another shot to the arm, this time no blood showed immediately through the buckskin jacket. Chris stepped out the back door, grabbed the crazed man and let loose a punch that knocked Samuelsson slightly off his feet. J.D. was leaning over Ezra, checking that he wasn't too hurt from his fight with the rancher when said rancher barreled into both from the power of Chris' blow. The three of them ended in a heap several feet from the home's rear door.

Buck charged through the back door, gun drawn, his jacket showing red on the left sleeve. He saw quickly that the man who had been shooting at them appeared subdued.

"Everybody all right?" he asked. "You're bleeding," he said to J.D., the worried look of a big brother evident on his handsome face.

"How's Josiah?" Chris asked, catching the pained look in the former bounty hunter's eyes as he stepped up to join his fellow lawmen. Chris nodded slightly, silently asking if his friend was all right. Vin cocked his head and walked toward the pile of men. It was as much as Chris expected. Vin would be fine.

"I'm all right, Buck," J.D. replied from the middle of the mound of men.

"You sure?" Buck asked, followed by an answer to Chris' query. "He's all right. Lost some blood. He's got a hard head; won't be walkin' far on that leg for a while."

"All right. Your arm?"

"Only a scratch, old pard."

"Might … Ah … suggest … removin' … the mountain … holdin' me … in the … dirt?" Ezra said breathlessly. Vin and Chris pulled Jacob Samuelsson off to the side and Buck helped J.D. to his feet. Ezra lay on the ground and made no attempt to rise.

"We moved the mountain, Ezra," Chris said as he and Vin tied Samuelsson's hands in rope, tightly, behind his back. The man remained unconscious, laying on his side.

"Yes. Ah … require a … moment … to … catch … mah … breath."

Chris, Buck and J.D. all yelled loudly, "Nathan!"

"Ah am … fine," Ezra complained, finally moving as he tried to turn over. He coughed and spit out dirt inelegantly. "Good … lord."

"Don't," Vin said as he plopped down next to the card sharp. We're done here. Take yer time."

Ezra was in no mood to be coddled with four of his compatriots suffering wounds from bullets. The former con man pushed himself up on all fours and grunted his way to his feet. He teetered to and fro, and started toward the left side and then headed to the front of the house, mumbling as he did about how this was no way to be celebrating the season.

"Keep an eye on Samuelsson, Buck. I'm following Ezra," Chris said.

"All right. Send Nate back when ya can. I'm gonna take a look at J.D. first," the former Texas Ranger said.

"I told ya I'm all right," J.D. complained.

"Still need tendin'. Vin, keep your gun pointed at Jacob."

"I got 'im."

"What do you suppose happened? Nothin' looks outta place," J.D. said as Buck helped him remove his jacket and shirt. "Joaquin was a mess, but all the rest of the animals seem fine."

"I don't know, kid. You know how Joaquin has run of this place. Maybe he snuck up on Jacob and Jacob hurt 'im by accident. He ain't in his right mind," Buck said sadly.

"Gonna have ta git his daughter ta come. If what's wrong with him is permanent, he can't stay here," Vin said as he watched the old man. Buck had checked that the crazed man was breathing before moving to check the sheriff.

"Josiah's all right?" J.D. asked, looking for reassurance that the senior member of their law enforcement team hadn't been hurt too badly.

"Like I told Chris, he'll be hurtin' a while, need to take it easy, but Nate says he'll be fine."

"That's good," J.D. said as he looked at the unconscious rancher. "Poor old man." Buck smiled sadly at his young protégé. 'J.D. is a fine, compassionate man,' he thought as he ripped a piece of cloth from his friend's discarded shirt and used it to staunch the flow of blood.

"You doin' all right over there, Buck?" Nathan asked as he rushed around the side of the house, Chris following not far behind, Ezra decidedly further behind.

"Yeah, bleeding's near stopped. It's a deep graze, need to clean it."

"I'll go inside and put some water on to boil," Chris said.

"Thanks. Vin?" the healer asked.

"Take a look at Jacob first," the tracker insisted.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

The black man did as Vin asked. The Texan kept his mare's leg handy, Buck was also ready, his own bullet wound seemingly already tended to by Nathan, the blood on the jacket making it look worse than it was. Both men intended to be ready just in case Jacob turned combative when he woke. Nathan encouraged the old man awake, which required a light slap on the cheek.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Jacob Samuelsson asked angrily.

"It's Nathan Jackson, Mr. Samuelsson. I'm just checking to make sure you're not hurt."

"Hell, I'm fine, you can stop fussin'." The man looked around, saw all of The Seven … and that his hands were bound. "Why'm I tied up?"

"What happened to Joaquin?" Vin asked.

"Joaquin? He's around somewhere." The rancher looked about his property again. He saw pigs and goats outside of their enclosures. Two of the horses he knew were in the stable portion of his largest barn were also grazing grass that no animal had grazed on in years. "What the hell is going on? Untie me," he demanded as he tried to loosen the knot in the rope secured around his wrists.

"Jacob, do you remember when we showed up?" Josiah asked as he slowly limped up to the group.

"I told you to stay put, Josiah," Nathan admonished. The big preacher ignored his friend as he listened to Samuelsson's reply.

"You just got here so, yeah, I remember."

"We've been here near an hour," Josiah said tiredly.

"He seems all right, he wasn't out long enough that it's worrying," the healer said.

"You just got here!" Samuelsson yelled. "Who tied me up like this? Did they take Joaquin?" The man started to kick his way to his knees, his arms no help as they remained tied behind his back. "Joaquin! Joaquin!"

"Calm down, Mr. Samuelsson. Joaquin's all right. He ain't here," J.D. said.

"How do you know he's all right if he ain't here?" the increasingly agitated rancher asked. "Joaquin!"

"Stop it, Jacob. Joaquin is in Four Corners," Chris said as he kneeled behind the old man and cut the rope from his wrists.

"Four Corners? That can't be. It'd taken him hours to get there."

"Jacob, he's been cut and beat on," Buck said. "You don't know how that happened?"

Ezra watched the interrogation from a distance. There was no doubt that Jacob Samuelsson had caused the injuries to the little burro. That this man would hurt an animal that he so clearly loved seemed the saddest of outcomes. Ezra had enjoyed many more than one conversation with this man and he knew the order of the things Jacob Samuelsson cared about. First and foremost, his daughter Lilith. Second, his grandchild. Third, that donkey. Fourth? Christmas. Somewhere after that but not necessarily fifth in line, his son-in-law, reluctantly, and only because he was a good husband and father and provider to his family. Samuelsson did blame, however, his Lilith's husband for the fact that he had not seen his daughter and grandson in nearly three years. Ezra shook his head; this story would not end happily.

"What's wrong?" Josiah asked as he leaned his pained body up against the wall of the house, near where the gambler stood.

Ezra, deep in thought, startled, but recovered quickly. "Mistah Samuelsson appears to be sufferin' from dementia. His daughter will need to be contacted."

"Sounds about right," the preacher agreed.

"The husband may well rebuff efforts to send Lilith's father to them," the gambler said as he inadvertently rubbed his stomach.

"You hurt?" Josiah asked.

"Mistah Samuelsson and young J.D. used me as cushions. Ah am sore, nothin' more." Josiah took Ezra at his word and continued on with the question of Samuelsson's mental state.

"There won't be any question of them taking Jacob in if we escort him there," the big man who stood favoring his wounded leg said. His arm also showed the telltale signs of blood, though the leg was clearly the worst of Josiah's injuries.

"You were hit in the leg and the arm but not your head?" Ezra asked.

"Cut my arm on a shard of wood. Hit my head on the boards. I'm all right."

"By the by, Ah have no doubt that when you say 'we' you do not mean me. Ah would also mention that when you or your compatriot, or two or three, escort Mistah Samuelsson to Denver, you had best be prepared to track him down when he feels he has finished his visit. He is, at minimum, unpredictable, and at worse, losing his mental faculties at a seemingly alarming rate and likely permanently. Whatever arrangements are made with the daughter and son-in-law, plans for how to deal with him as he devolves further into senility need to be implemented."

"Sounds like you got some experience with that kind of thing."

Ezra chose not to confirm Josiah's assumption either way, other than to reiterate, "Ah have been to Denver once this year and have no plans to return, certainly not for this purpose."

"That's kind of unfeeling, Ezra." Ezra turned away and watched as Chris walked up and interrupted the conversation. It appeared that all of the bullet wounds had been tended to by the healer, at least well enough to get them all back to town for proper cleaning, extractions and treatment to avoid infection.

"Let's go," the tall blond said. Ezra and Josiah saw Buck escorting Jacob, Vin and J.D. clearly ready to act, despite their injuries.

"Mistah Samuelsson agreed to come to town?" Ezra asked. Chris saw Ezra bring his hand to his stomach, but remove it too quickly. The leader of The Seven was going to say something about the action, but the healer beat him to it.

"Let me see what's wrong," he demanded.

"Gentlemen, as Ah already explained to Josiah, Ah am simply sore from being at the bottom of the human pyramid that consisted of Mistah Samuelsson and young J.D., and his guns," the former con man said, raising an eyebrow to the sheriff, but assuring a smile remained on his face.

"Sorry, Ez," J.D. said.

"Do not worry, J.D., as Ah feel certain some rest in mah feather bed and some of Nathan's delectable tea will set me to rights. Besides, the injury to mah stomach is from mah own gun, not yours."

Nathan blinked as he looked at Ezra. He turned to Chris. "Now I know somethin' ain't right if he's willing to take the tea."

Since nobody had answered his question, Ezra addressed the subdued rancher as he got close.

"Will you be joining us in our dusty burg?" he asked. Faster than a man of Jacob Samuelsson's age should be able to move, he sent a short punch right at Ezra's nose. It might have been lethal but for the former con man's own impressive speed. He saw the washboard on the rickety table, and was prepared to use it if needed. He brought the wood and metal device up to his face; Samuelsson's fist met it with heat and fury. Blood splattered. Chris wrestled the man to the ground as Nathan got on his knees to check on the damaged hand.

"That's quick reflexes," Josiah said. "Did you have to hurt him?"

Ezra could hardly believe his ears. Vin shook his head disgustedly at the town's preacher.

"He could o' just used his gun, 'siah," J.D. said. The young Easterner turned to Ezra. "That was so fast. How do you do it?"

"Thank you, J.D., Ah appreciate the support," the gambler said as he kept his eyes on the big man whose penance, at least in his mind but also in moments like this, seemed never-ending. He looked at J.D. directly when he added, "A keen eye is your best friend."

"Can you teach me?" the sheriff asked.

"Ah believe Ah have been. Let us test mah theory out on you. Upon the new yeah?" Ezra asked.

"That'd be great if you were right," J.D. said enthusiastically. "Yeah, after New Year's will be great."

"Why am I on the ground?" the old man asked, a confused tone to his voice.

"It's all right, Jacob. You just had yourself a spell," Josiah explained.

"What happened to my hand?"

"You moved to hurt ol' Ezra here," Buck said. "He had to defend himself is all."

Jacob looked over to the professional poker player. Ezra wore his poker face, but Samuelsson most certainly did not. Ezra caught the look in the man's eyes, so did Vin. They would have to watch him carefully should he forget himself again.

"Is that right?"

Chris didn't like the sound of the retort one bit. "Can we tie his hands again, Nate?"

"No. Best if we keep the blood flowin' good."

"All right," Chris said, not happy with the answer. "Josiah, get him a horse." Chris turned to the rancher. "Mr. Samuelsson, you ain't been yourself. You shot at all of us, you beat on Ezra and you didn't seem to care whether you just hurt him or killed him. We're gonna have to tie you up so you can't hurt no one."

"I'm not gonna hurt anyone."

"We can't really take that chance," Chris replied.

"Am I under arrest?"

"No, but I can make it so you are, if I have to."

---

By the time they made it back to Four Corners, it was past dark. The fires were lit on the main avenue, welcoming them home after their long, stressful day, the street looking more festive than normal with green boughs and red bows decorating many of the buildings in the growing frontier town.

"What're we gonna do with him?" Buck asked. He had plans for the evening and just enough time to get cleaned up and let Nathan clean his wound. The healer would be busy for the next while: Buck, J.D. and Vin all had minor gunshots to be cleaned, maybe stitched. Josiah's wounds were more serious and would require sewing and special care to watch for infection, and he would need to rest, but his distress over Jacob would likely interfere with that requirement.

And then there was Ezra. He sat his horse fine for the three and a half hours it took them to get home, but he was definitely looking less than his normal impeccable self.

"Ezra, go on up to your room. I'll be up once I've had a look at these bullet holes," Nathan said.

"Ah will do that, Nathan, once Chris answers Buck's query. "The jail would, of course, work best at keeping Mistah Samuelsson … " He paused, looking for the precise wording, "contained," he settled on, "should he suffer another one of his … spells." His phrasing told all of his fellow lawmen that he questioned the use of the term 'spells'.

"We ain't puttin' Jacob in the jail," Josiah said angrily. "He can stay at the church."

"If we do that, we need to have extra people watchin' 'im. You know how strong he is, and he'll be hard to fight if he gets his hands on a gun," Chris warned.

"We ain't puttin' 'im in the jail," Josiah practically growled.

"I'll see if I can get Marty, Dave or Robert to watch with me overnight," Chris said. He stared Josiah down, daring him to challenge his word.

"That'd be good," Nathan said. "Josiah, you lost some blood and you need to get a good meal and then get some sleep after I clean your wounds." The big man conceded the point to his friend with a nod of his head. Ezra walked toward the saloon. "I'll be over to see you in about an hour Ezra."

Ezra waved his hand and replied, "Ah will be in mah room." He kept a steady, slow pace to the drinking establishment and his comfortable room on the second floor of the building. The saloon that was once his for so short a period of time was decorated with green boughs like so many of the buildings, but the added decoration of red and green chiles showed the influence of the beautiful Mexican woman he was seeing once more. Inez Rocios' influence on Ezra Standish was a positive in the view of all of his friends, many of the citizens of the town, and on the Christmas décor at the saloon she managed.

"Vin, Buck and J.D., go with Nathan and get fixed up, then get some sleep. We'll need round-the-clock guards for Jacob. Vin, can you see who's available to keep watch with me tonight?"

"Sher. I'll tell Nate, but I'll send whoever it is over as soon as he can make it."

"Sounds good."

"I'll run over to the clinic and get what I need for Josiah's leg," the healer said.

"All right. I'll put some water on to heat for you over at the church. Good thing Josiah has a hard head."

Nathan chuckled. "Thanks, Chris."

"I heard that," Josiah grumbled pleasantly.

"See? If you didn't have such a hard head, that hard hit you took on the boardwalk in front of Jacob's house might've knocked out your hearing," Chris joked.

"Eh? What's that you say?" Josiah played along.

Nathan laughed again as he headed to the clinic. He turned back and said, "I'll get these three taken care of first, then be back for you, Josiah."

"Sounds like a plan, brother. Maybe between Chris and me we can come up with something else that you'll find amusing."

"You never know," Nathan said as he left the area.

Vin helped Josiah and Chris shadowed Jacob to the church. "I'll make you a bed behind the alter," the preacher said as Vin left to check on the three part-time peacekeepers.

"I'll do it," Chris said. "You just sit and watch Jacob. Is everything still in the cabinet?"

"It is. Thanks, Chris," Josiah said through gritted teeth as he eased himself onto a pew.

"Your leg hurts?"

"It's to be expected."

Chris stared at Josiah and decided that his focus was too much on his pain and not enough on watching the man who had caused them so much grief earlier in the day. "I think we'll wait until one of the fellas joins us before we make Jacob's bed." He turned to Samuelsson. "Jacob, I want you to sit in that chair in the corner until I'm done with the stove and start heating the water. Josiah, need you to hold a gun on him. You can't catch him if he tries to make a run for it. We're in town now; it's not just one of us he could hurt."

"I'm not gonna hurt anyone," Jacob said sourly.

"Jacob, please sit over there," Josiah said. Jacob did as Josiah asked. Josiah pulled out his gun and kept it handy.

"You gonna shoot me now, Josiah?"

"I hope not."

---

"Are you all right?" Inez Rocios asked.

"Sore and tired, that is all. And rather filthy. Would you send Tommy up to prepare a bath?"

"He is bringing up the hot water now." Ezra frowned. "Tiny's son came to tell me you … all of you were back." Ezra pulled the beautiful woman's hand to his lips and kissed it. "Is it true that four of you were shot?" she asked, her eyes filled with worry, though her concern seemed immediately less than it was when they first set eyes on one another as she saw that Ezra seemed free of bullet holes, this time.

"It is true. Josiah in the leg, J.D., Buck and Vin were all hit in the arm. Nathan is not worried, but he will be busy treating all of us."

Inez' eyes grew wide. "You?"

"Ah have some bruising that Nathan wishes to examine. Please do not fret over this. Some rest and Ah will be right as rain."

Inez smiled, but the anxiety never left her face. "I cannot help but be worried," she said, squeezing his hand.

"Hey! Ya got other customers!" one of the patrons yelled. Ezra smiled at his love; he knew Inez could handle any rabble.

"Volver al trabajo."

"Sí."

"Might Ah see you this evening?" the Southerner asked.

"It will be very late. And you are injured. Will you be up for a visit?"

Ezra smiled lasciviously. Inez blushed. The rendezvous was confirmed, wordlessly. Ezra reached for his bottle of expensive brandy, winced at the pull where he knew the bruising was bad, and pulled quickly back. Inez retrieved the bottle and placed it on the bar.

"Estúpido," she said affectionately, a warm smile and those intensely seductive lips promising far more affection later than the admonishment in her native tongue let on.

"Gracias," Ezra replied with a wink as he headed to his room. When he reached it, he opened the door to find Tommy pouring a bucket of steaming water into the portable tub, already well-filled with hot water.

"Hey, Mr. Standish, you got great timing. It's all ready for ya. I know you ain't likin' that lavender soap so much these days. Mrs. Potter suggested this." He handed the still-packaged bar to the card sharp. Ezra took a deep whiff through the cloth wrap, then looked at the label.

"Orange-clove. It smells good enough to eat," Ezra said, smiling warmly at the kindness of the young man. "This will do nicely. Allow me to reimburse you for the purchase." He moved his hand toward his pocket to retrieve some coin.

"You don't have to. Mrs. Potter said it was on the house."

"She is a dear lady." Ezra took out some money anyway and said, "Thank you, as always, for settin' this up for me." He handed the tip to Tommy.

"Thank you, Mr. Standish. Should I come back to clean everything up in an hour, like always?"

Ezra saw the extra bucket of hot water sitting on a stool beside the tub. Tommy was a good young man. "That would be excellent. Thank you, kindly."

"Happy to do it for you. You and the others do so much for the town, keepin' out the riff-raff and protectin' us. I didn't think I would stay, you know, when they tried ta hang Mr. Jackson? I couldn't think ta stay in a place with such evil men. And then Mr. Potter. But then you all decided ta stay."

Ezra smiled. Much like Chris Larabee, Tommy was a man of few words; this was a long speech for the young man.

"The transformation of this town did not come about solely on account of seven lawmen. The good citizens of this municipality had as much to do with making Four Corners into a fine place to call home. The good citizens. You should be proud of the part you had in the change," Ezra said as he watched Tommy look to his boots, a slight flush of pink highlighting his cheeks.

"Oh, I ain't done nothin' … "

Ezra walked up to the tall, thin man, hardly more than a youth, especially in demeanor and, Ezra thought, possibly in aptitude. That mattered very little. Inez relied on him in so many ways. Ezra did, too, hiring him for the occasional menial job, but also relying on him for more important tasks.

"Tommy, look at me." The young man did. "You are kind and thoughtful with everyone. That is a lesson some in this town have yet to master. You should take pride in what you do and how you present yourself." Ezra watched as Tommy listened. "And never doubt that Ah and Señorita Rocios … everyone you help in this town, appreciates you. Your commitment, your kindness, your reliability. You are a fine young man and an asset to this town."

Tommy smiled, pretty sure that he understood the gist of what the gambler was saying, even if he didn't know what all of the words meant. "Thanks. It's been a long time since I heard those kind o' words."

That would change if Ezra Standish had anything to say about it.

"Well, out you go or Ah shall be mid-ablutions when Mistah Jackson arrives."

"Are you hurt?" Tommy asked worriedly.

"Not much worse for wear. Some bruising that our fine healer insists upon examining. He has others to attend to first. Ah will see you in … " the former con man pulled out his watch, "fifty-five minutes. You have the spare key?"

"Yep." Ezra started to speak, but Tommy interrupted. "I'll knock first." They had a special knock for everyday and another to signal trouble.

"You are a wise young man. Thank you." They walked to the door and Ezra locked it after Tommy left.

Ezra undressed quickly. He saw the deep bruising, some from Samuelsson's punches, one from his Richard's conversion that bore into him with the weight of a hard crash to the ground and the added weight of the impressive frame of the old rancher and not exactly light weight of J.D. as well. The Southerner stepped into the tub, the water steaming enticingly and lowered himself in. He opened the bar of soap, the sweet citrus complimenting the tang of the clove. He lathered up, pumping the pleasant aroma throughout the room, and leaned back, his eyes closed, relaxed, finally, after the long, stressful day.

---

"I want you to keep that sling on for a few days."

"I don't need it, Nate," Vin complained.

"Do it," Josiah said. The preacher had been helped over by Dave Landon, one of the townspeople who helped them out on occasion as a part-time lawman. Marty Ellison and Robert Merton, the other two part-timers who helped out, stayed with Chris and Jacob at the church. Nathan had already cleaned the big man's leg wound. He was now seated between the table where the healer had placed his supplies, and the black man who just finished with his last patient in the clinic. Buck and J.D. were gone from Nathan's rooms above the livery, J.D. to his room at the boarding house for some rest, Buck … well, exactly where he was bedded down at the moment was anybody's guess. As to whether he was bedded down with one of his ladies there was no question.

"You should be fine, so long as you take it easy."

"All right."

"Did anyone send that telegraph to Jacob's daughter?" Nathan asked.

"I went over ta Mary's to tell her what happened. She's takin' care o' sending it," Vin said.

"It's a shame," Nathan said. "He can't stay on his own ranch. Dementia can be so different from person to person."

"Looks like, at least for now, Jacob is experiencing some violent feelings. Hopefully his path will be more peaceful if he has loved ones around him," Josiah said.

"Mebbe," Vin said, not sounding especially convinced.

"I'm heading to the church," Josiah said, unable to hide the groan when he stood. Nathan's brow furrowed. Josiah cocked his head, indicating that he was all right, that he would survive, just hurt for a while.

"Chris say who he got to cover tonight with him?" Nathan asked.

"Nope. Dave, Robert and Marty were all over there. Guess it'll be one of them," the preacher said. "Good night."

"Good night," the former slave said.

"'Night," Vin said to both men as he followed Josiah out the door.

---

Tommy had just finished in Ezra's room when Nathan showed up.

"'Evenin', Mr. Jackson," he said as he gave the room a final cursory glance.

"Hello, Tommy. Is he ready for me?"

"Reckon so. Seems all right, and in a pretty good mood."

"That's good for everyone," Nathan said with a wink.

"You bet."

"Um, gentlemen, Ah am right here, right here in the room," Ezra complained toward the two men chatting at his doorway.

Nathan and Tommy turned to Ezra and said in unison, "We know." They looked to each other and smiled. Tommy said good night to them both, Nathan patted the helpful young man on the back, and then Nathan closed the door behind him as he left.

"He's a good kid," the healer said as he set his bag down on the foot of the bed.

"He is indeed, the finest of men." Nathan smiled at his friend. It said a lot about Ezra that he considered the barely educated man with so few prospects of improving his lot the 'finest of men'. The black man knew, now, that Ezra Standish held little prejudice in his heart, not due to the color of your skin or your position in life, at least as little as any white man. Ezra reserved his dissatisfaction for those who hurt women, children and animals. He had come around, somewhat, on the native peoples as he got to know and trust more of them and as he heard, first hand, of what they had all gone through in their forced settlement to reservations, having to give up vast tracts of land that had belonged to their tribes for centuries.

And of course, Ezra Standish, as all of The Seven did, held any man in contempt who would steal or maim or kill, whatever said man's background.

"How are you feeling?" Nathan asked as he watched the former con man begin to remove the clothing that he had so obviously only donned a few minutes ago; Ezra's damp hair was evidence of his recent bath even if the wet spots near the recently installed drain didn't give it away.

Ezra hung up the shirt and then slowly and with a barely stifled grunt, lifted his silk undergarment over his head. Nathan whistled as the card sharp replied, "The hot bath felt good, while it lasted. Now Ah can feel every punch and … other indignity suffered during today's debacle."

Nathan looked closely at the one bruise, up high and on the right side of his stomach, and another that he could just barely see peeking out above the waist of Ezra's pants.

"Can you take your trousers off and lay down on the bed?"

"Of course." This was all very familiar territory, for both men. Ezra kept that undergarment on and allowed Nathan to move it down further for examination. "How are our compatriots?"

"They're fine. J.D.'s wound was just a scratch, but it left a groove. Vin was winged, too, but it went through some muscle. Put 'im in a sling."

"Ah am certain our frontiersman friend was not happy about that."

"Bitched and moaned, but I think he'll keep it on."

"Did Chris insist that he use it?"

"Josiah."

Ezra grunted as Nathan touched a particularly painful spot. "Josiah. Ah shall keep an eye on Vin as well."

"Hm," the healer said as he continued to palpate the bruising and received an occasional twitch and additional grunt from the gambler. "Buck needed more stitchin', and he's gettin' comforted now."

"No doubt," Ezra countered lightly. "And Josiah?"

"If I can keep him off that leg, he should be well-on to healing in a week."

"Have you deemed yourself … " Ezra grunted mid-thought as Nathan palpated a deep purple part of the bruise, just about at the top of where his gun was positioned on his hip. He was slammed hard to the ground by J.D. and Samuelsson, and his gun was in precisely the wrong spot at the bottom of the pile. The gambler continued, " … Josiah's keeper during his convalescence?"

"I think I can get the ladies to help." Nathan stepped back. "You got some deep bruising. I'd appreciate it if you'd take it easy these next days, too."

Ezra stared at his friend. He was a lucky man to have such a caring person watching out for him. "You make it hard to do anything but when you put it that way." He smiled, warmth and gratitude impossible to hide.

"Good. Inez should be up soon with your tea." Ezra started to ask how he knew which of the assorted teas to have the pretty woman downstairs prepare, but Nathan interrupted.

"I saw how you were walking, like one big bruise. Then J.D. told me about you getting the worst end of that pile-up." Ezra nodded as he sat up and donned his night shirt. A knock at the door and Nathan said, "I'll get that." As he turned, the door flew open, knocking Nathan hard in the chest. As the healer tried to catch his breath, Jacob Samuelsson burst in, raised his gun, aimed square at Ezra's chest, then fired. The percussions echoing in the room and down the hall evidenced more than one shot being fired, but it was the knife thrown by the still-struggling healer that forced the bullet high. Ezra had thrown himself to the far side of the bed; he would have been the recipient of another bullet in a body that seemed destined for a short time on this Earth had he not made the move.

Chris and Dave each landed a shot, Samuelsson suffering a bullet to his shoulder from the former gunslinger. Nathan's knife was embedded in the crazed man's hand. Dave's bullet hit the rancher's leg as the confused man aimed at Ezra from the threshold of the room. As Jacob bled, he charged to the foot of the bed, rounded the far side and jumped hard on the still-scrambling gambler, knocking him to the hard floor. Nathan stood, winded still but anger-fueled adrenaline at the abuse Ezra was taking moving him forward to aid his friend. Vin showed up and saw Inez running to the room, the tea in the mug on her tray splashing, spraying toward the rug in the hallway. She finally dropped it all to the floor and reached Ezra's door, but Vin stopped her from going in.

"Jest hold on a minute. Need ta make sher all the shootin's done," the Texan said.

"But he could be hurt," the pretty Mexican woman pleaded.

"Ezra!" Vin called.

Nathan hauled the Swede off of his friend and tossed him against Ezra's rocking chair. The wood cracked loudly.

"Aw, hell," the card sharp complained, breathlessly, from the floor.

"See?" Vin asked the worried woman. "He's fine." Inez scowled and stepped into the room, where Chris stopped her cold.

"Stay there," he ordered. Josiah showed up, limping. "Josiah, keep your gun on Jacob. If he moves to attack anyone, shoot 'im." Chris stared at Josiah until he received the nod that said the preacher would reluctantly comply. The tall blond looked down to the rancher. "Nate, this is a lot o' blood." Dave winced as he watched the blood pool.

"Wonderful," Ezra said from the floor. The healer shook his head at what Ezra considered important.

"Be right back, Ez," the healer said as he stepped over and knelt by Samuelsson.

"Ah shall remain resting, comfortably, upon this hard, cold floor."

"Chris, get Ezra in his bed." The former slave looked to the worried woman waiting for the go-ahead to join her man. "Inez, stay there just a little while longer." He noticed that she was without the tea, noting that he heard a crash from the hallway. "Can you go make him another mug of tea?" Inez blinked, holding back tears. "He's fine. Go on."

"I will be back in moments." She remained at the door, waiting to get a glimpse of Ezra.

Nathan went to the other man on the floor. "Hell. Vin, I need towels, lots of 'em." The tracker left the room, fully aware of the cabinet down the hall where extra towels were kept.

"What is it?" Josiah asked.

"Hit an artery."

"Whaddya need?" Chris asked as he lifted a banged-up Ezra to the bed. The gambler made himself comfortable, closing his eyes, an obvious effort to shut out everything going on around him.

"Hot water … "

"I will get it," the pretty saloon keeper said as she rushed from the room.

"My surgical kit," the healer said as J.D. showed up at the door.

"What happened?" the young man asked, not exactly wide-eyed. He yawned as he waited for an answer.

"Go to Nathan's, bring back his surgical kit," Chris ordered.

"Laudanum, carbolic, too. Whiskey from downstairs." Nathan looked up to J.D. as he pressed where the perforation was bleeding. "Hurry." J.D. left and Vin entered the room with an armful of rags and towels, whatever he could find, taking the clean-but-stained ones from the bottom drawers first. Nathan looked down at his patient and checked his pulse. "He's unconscious." He took a handful of rags. "Chris, you got the most strength right now. Come and press on this." The leader of The Seven did as he was told.

"He gonna die?" Chris asked.

"Might." Nathan looked around. "Ezra, I need your bed." There was no sign from the bed that the card sharp had heard the black man. "Ezra, I need your bed." Inez arrived with a bucket of hot water. "I need more light."

"You are operating here?" Inez asked.

"Got to. Can you get more light?" Inez ran from the room to retrieve more lamps. The sun had set; the healer would have to do his best with the pooled light from the oil lamps. "Josiah, bring that mirror closer." The Southerner had long ago replaced the reflective glass he destroyed when he nearly absconded with the ten thousand dollars in blood money retrieved from a hired killer. Ezra would never forget what he might have lost in exchange for that ill-gotten monetary gain, not least of which he might not have been in position to save Mary.

"Is this all right, brother?" Josiah asked as he placed the full-length mirror near the bed.

"Yeah, that's good." Nathan looked at Ezra, exhausted-but-comfortable in his bed. "Vin, can you get help fetchin' that door Inez has in the back room?"

"Sher."

"Mind that arm," the healer reminded the former bounty hunter. Inez and Tommy entered, carrying two hurricane lamps each. "Thanks. Tommy, can you help Vin?"

"Yeah."

"Inez, we're going to use that extra door you got downstairs on Ezra's bed. Can you get some clean sheets for it?"

"Of course." She left the room again.

Nathan walked to the bed. "Ezra," he said firmly. The deep, familiar voice wrested the card sharp from his light sleep.

"Nathan?"

"Need you to get up."

"Why? Did you not just insist that Ah get off the floor and into this wondrous contraption?"

"We need to get Jacob fixed up. He's been hit in an artery. I need to close up that …." Nathan was interrupted by the arrival of Vin and Tommy with the door.

"Come on, Ezra. Get up," Chris demanded from the floor.

"Very well." Ezra sat up, with a minor assist from his black friend. Ezra's eyes grew huge with worry as he said, "W…Wait one moment. Will there not be blood all ovah mah feathah bed?"

"There will not," Inez said as she carried two sheets and one large canvas tarpaulin. "Tiny is getting two more of these. They should protect most everything from the blood. This rug is going to need to be replaced," she added as she dropped the items in her hands on the dresser and went to Ezra.

J.D. rushed into the room with Nathan's supplies, followed by Buck carrying the whiskey.

"What the hell?" he asked.

"He … " Chris said, looking toward Josiah, " … slipped out."

"With three of you watching him? Seems to me you need to go back to lawman school." Ezra snorted a laugh. Buck looked at him. "You all right?"

"Ah am fine."

"Estúpido."

"Inez is taking me to her room so that she may continue to shower me with sweet nothin's."

Inez squeezed Ezra hard, not an especially affectionate hug, but her meaning was well understood by all in the room. He grunted as she released him, but said nothing as they left the room.

Tommy and Tiny prepared the bed, and they both helped Nathan lift the unconscious man to the makeshift operating table as Chris continued to hold the bleeding at bay.

"All right," the man who learned what his future held as he manned one end of a gurney during The War Between the States. "Chris, I'll need you to stay. Josiah, can you help?"

"Of course."

"Everyone else can leave. J.D., can you stay downstairs in case I need anything?"

"We'll both be down there," Buck answered and he and J.D. shared a sad smile.

"I'll be with 'em," Vin said.

Dave Landon rubbed his sore shoulder, the one Jacob Samuelsson used the butt of Josiah's gun on as he made his escape. "I'm headin' home."

"You're all right?" Nathan asked.

"Yeah," the good man who helped out The Seven when necessary said. His embarrassment and regret were clear in his face and his comportment.

"It wasn't your fault, Dave," Chris said.

"It was mine," Josiah admitted. "He seemed so … back to his old self."

Dave nodded his thanks to Chris. "Good night."

With the light shining brightly from six lamps, illuminated even brighter by the reflection in the mirror, Nathan Jackson went to work.

---

"Did you hear back from his daughter?" Chris asked Mary as they headed back to the Clarion News office. The sun shone brightly on this pleasant mid-December morning. The weather had been all over the place this last week, and today was no exception to that trend. The couple had just enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at the new restaurant in town. The two chose to keep any talk to more pleasant topics, thus these questions after leaving the dining establishment and just before they would separate for the morning.

"I did. Lilith and her husband are coming to get him. They have train and coach tickets and should be here the day after tomorrow."

"Really?"

"Yes. I was just as surprised."

"The fellas will be happy. None of them were too keen on escorting the man anywhere in such an unstable frame of mind."

They reached Mary's storefront. "I think they will need help on their journey home," the beautiful blond said as she accepted a kiss from the tall, handsome blond.

"Maybe, but it doesn't have to be any of us."

Mary smiled uncomfortably. "I suppose not, but it should be someone reliable, trustworthy."

"There are people like that in town," Chris said.

"Hmm, but most of them work for the Honorable Oren Travis."

"There are others."

"Strong, good with a gun, and with people. Compassionate. Good company."

"Mary, I am not going."

The pretty newspaper publisher lowered her head, hiding her smile, but then raised it, a devilish grin in place when she said, "Methinks thou dost protest too much. I was thinking maybe Ezra … "

"No. He already said he didn't want to escort Jacob, and I told him he didn't have to."

"I'll speak with him."

"No," Chris said firmly, in no mood to argue.

"No?" Mary asked, her face now stern, anger in her eyes.

"Mary, he had a long, hard summer, then those treatments. We've been busier than normal, and he got kind of roughed up at Samuelsson's place yesterday." And that was all aside from the fact that Ezra Standish finally seemed interested in celebrating Christmas this year. Putting him on the road with a man who seemed intent on hurting the Southerner seemed wrong in every possible way.

"I heard about that, but Jacob won't be able to travel for a while, several days, maybe even a week, according to Nathan. That will give Lilith and her husband time to arrange for the sale of the ranch … and for Ezra to be recovered enough to accompany them."

"Mary, if you insist on one or more of us going along, let it be Buck. He can bring J.D. along, give us all a break."

Mary smiled a genuine smile, following by a muffled snort. "Their antics can get out of hand. But no, Jacob and Lilith won't be much help. With his condition, he really can't be trusted with a gun." This wasn't news to the former gunslinger. "Lilith's husband is hiring a private coach since they will need to be extra careful to keep the ride smooth for an old man recovering from one very serious gunshot wound and some other injuries. When I said reliable and trustworthy, Buck Wilmington and J.D. Dunne were not the first names that popped into my head."

Chris looked up toward the second floor of the saloon. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't make Ezra go. As much as he wanted things to be back to normal for the card sharp, he and Ezra both knew that he tired more easily now. It was true, most days in Four Corners, that was not a problem. Ezra Standish was very good at hiding in plain sight; hiding his feelings, hiding his illnesses, trying to hide his true self for fear of, well, Chris Larabee wasn't sure that he knew precisely what it was that scared his friend into hiding right in front of six friends … partners … brothers.

"I'll go."

"You'll go?" the town leader said, dumbfounded.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Chris was becoming increasingly annoyed with this woman. He loved her but he would be damned if he would go through again everything he had just said.

"Because of the reason I just gave you," he said, short in both the brevity of the answer and the tenor in the saying. "I've got to meet the fellas." With that declaration, he was off the boardwalk and making swift headway to the saloon.

When he reached the drinking establishment, he found four of his fellow lawmen. It was approaching nine in the morning. He was not surprised to see Nathan not in attendance. The healer was no doubt with Jacob Samuelsson and his family. Josiah had spent far too much time on his feet after his injury the day before – the man wasn't getting any younger. Hopefully he was spending some quality time in his bed. The person he did not expect to see sitting with Vin, Buck and J.D., was Ezra.

"Why're you here?" Chris asked as he sat between Vin and Buck and looked critically at the former con man.

"And a fine good morning to you as well," Ezra said dryly with no effort to hide his sarcasm.

"It ain't that," Chris said with not a little bitterness.

"Mary mad at ya?" Buck asked as he nursed a cup of coffee. Chris grunted. Buck frowned and asked, "You're mad at her? What'd she want you to do?"

"Nothing."

"Not likely," Vin said with a crooked grin.

Chris sighed and said, "Hell. She thinks one of us should go with Samuelsson back to Denver."

"Did we all decide not to have him charged with anything? I guess I missed that," the handsome ladies' man said, not at all happy with the prospect.

"He didn't know what he was doing, Buck," J.D. reminded his friend.

"Yeah, well, I hope no one hears about the town where you can get away with attempted murder of a lawman by tellin' 'em you just went loco for a day."

"Ah believe what J.D. is tryin' to convey is that at Mistah Samuelsson's advanced age, and continued incapacity, his chances of survivin' more than a couple of weeks in prison yield exceptionally low odds."

"Yeah," J.D. agreed.

"Ah do not think it behooves us to summon the good Judge Travis with the plethora of citizens willin' to testify on Mistah Samuelsson's behalf. The judge would likely come to the same conclusion as J.D. and yours truly."

"Right. Like what Ezra said." J.D. sat back, happy that someone had taken the old rancher's side.

"You think he should be let go?" Chris asked.

"Ah do not, but Ah feel the judge will be easily swayed by the sheer number of people who will insist that he is a good man and should be allowed to live the remainder of his days with his daughter and son-in-law and grandson," the Southerner said. He leaned back in his chair, set the rest of his biscuit back on his plate, then rubbed his stomach lightly.

"Still sore?" Chris asked.

"Quite uncomfortably so." He caught the looks on his friends' faces. "Do not make haste to the clinic. Nathan and Ah have an understandin' on mah most worrisome bruise. It is deep and will pain me for some time. Ah am to rest abed as much as Ah can."

Chris nodded, then said, "Why're you here?"

"Ah could not find a comfortable position."

"From what I saw, you gotta have bruises everywhere," J.D. said as he took a swig from his mug of milk.

"You gotta be better at gettin' out of the way, Ez," Buck said.

Ezra smiled as he looked from one fellow lawman to the next. "So says the man with the bandage on his arm."

"It was just a crease. It won't keep me from any of my … other activities," the town's Lothario said with a lascivious grin.

"Ain't no surprise there," Vin said. His bullet wound had turned out the worst of the arm injuries suffered by the triumvirate of Buck, J.D. and Vin. The tracker still wore the sling to prove it, a surprising spectacle to witness to all of his friends.

Chris stood and said, "I'll be back in a few minutes." He looked to his men and said, "Make sure Ezra stays put."

"Chris … " the card sharp started.

"No. Listen to what Nate said. Just sit still 'til I get back."

As Chris stepped through the batwing doors, Ezra asked, "What just happened there?"

"Pony threw a shoe yesterday. Maybe he's goin' ta check on 'im," Vin suggested, a playful grin coming to his handsome face. Buck, J.D. and Ezra looked at him as though he'd lost his mind, then all four men laughed heartily, Ezra moaning through the pain of it.

Chris returned by way of the back entrance to the saloon. He walked up to their table and watched as Buck, Vin and J.D. stared at their dozing friend.

"Ezra," Chris said.

"Yes, suh," the Southerner responded, not missing a beat.

"You weren't sleeping?" J.D. asked.

"Ah was restin'."

"Come with me," Chris ordered.

"Why?"

"He ain't gonna bite ya, Ez," Vin said. "And I think he's proved that he's finally decided against shootin' ya, too."

Ezra stood, adjusted his vest, jacket and cuffs of his fancy shirt, threw Vin a long-suffering grin, then looked to Chris and said, "Lead on." Chris took a couple of long strides to the staircase and headed up. Ezra followed. "A familiar route," the wily professional poker player commented.

"Shut up," Chris said as he made the turn at the small landing.

J.D. stood from his seat.

"Where ya headin', kid?" Buck asked.

"Think I'll go check on Pony, then give Milagro a good rubdown."

"You sher yer arm's up to it?" Vin asked, also standing.

"Yeah. I'll stop before it starts to hurt."

"Mind if I join ya?" the tracker asked.

"You ain't plannin' to brush down Peso, are ya? Your arm's not up to that."

"I'll give 'im a light brush with my other wing." Vin looked to Buck. "Wanna join us?"

Buck laughed. "You fellas may think spendin' time with horses is a nice way to spend your middle of the mornin' hours." He also stood. "I got plans that're lots more pleasurable. I'll see you boys later." He headed out the front door of the saloon.

Chris and Ezra reached the door to the sore and tired man's room. Ezra looked to his friend and said, "Ah believe Ah still retain mah faculties such that Ah might reach mah room without assistance." He unlocked the door and found that things in the comfortable room were not as he'd left them.

"Can we talk while you get ready for bed?"

Ezra laughed as he set his hat on the highboy and loosened his tie. "Since when is mid-morning bedtime?"

"So, you admit this is mid-morning?" Chris replied with a gotcha grin.

"Touché," Ezra replied, knowing he'd got caught in his own attempt at clever.

"We've got Dave, Marty and Robert helping us with patrols since Jacob decided to use us for target practice, and you as a punching bag. You look like hell and you need to rest."

"Did you do this by yourself?"

"I asked Nate, then stopped at Gloria's," Chris admitted. "I couldn't find Inez, but I know where your spare key is kept. Is she around?" he asked worriedly. He had just seen her the day before, and knew that Ezra spent the night in her room after the deep cleaning of his own room after Nate performed surgery on Jacob.

"No. She is on her way to Las Cruces, a previously scheduled visitation with family."

"Everything all right with you two? Start getting undressed."

"Yes. Her cousin telegraphed last week that she felt she would be delivering her child sooner than her previous two. Inez is in route to assist for a while."

"All right. This bolster will keep you from turning over onto your back." Chris knew from experience on the trail, and from occasionally sharing a bed with the poker player when hotel rooms were short, that Ezra was mostly a side-sleeper. But he often ended up on his back throughout the course of the night. Two men sharing a hotel bed didn't really allow for that; when Ezra tried and felt Chris' body as he inadvertently attempted the maneuver, he always ended back in his side position, seemingly happily so. With the terrible bruising on both his back and front, being forced to remain on his side might allow the man some sleep rather than being woken up by the pain.

Ezra shook his head as he lowered it. He rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, looked back up to his friend and said, "This is very thoughtful of you, Chris. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Keep going," the leader of the men who protected their town said. "I don't have all day."

"You need not stay," Ezra said as he put his nightshirt on, then removed his boots, socks and trousers.

"I need to talk to you about escorting Jacob and his family to Denver."

The Southerner's head shot up. "Ah thought … "

"Nothing's changed, Ez. Drink that tea," Chris instructed. The mug sat on the nightstand, a small plate covering the top, the mug itself nested in a thick towel, obvious signs of Gloria Potter. The lean former gunslinger sat in Ezra's nice rocking chair, already repaired from yesterday's tussle by one of the newer arrivals in town, an accomplished woodworker. Ezra sat on the edge of his feather bed, mug in hand. He took a sip, shook his head and frowned at the awful taste. It didn't make him gag, the honey Gloria had added made it barely above Nathan's regular toxic brews.

"Delicious," the gambler said tartly.

Chris smiled. "Nate said it's got something that'll get you sleeping quickly. Said it was bitter."

"Thank you. Most kind to provide the warning."

"Sorry." Ezra drank while Chris talked. "Mary's gonna come and talk to you."

"Always a pleasure," the handsome man with the gold tooth said, followed by a yawn. "Excuse me."

"It won't be a pleasure this time, it wasn't for me. She's gonna try and talk you into escorting Jacob."

Ezra nodded and took a large swallow of the disgusting medicinal tea. "You have explained to her … "

"That I agreed not to send you, that you asked specifically to 'be excused from this assignment'," Chris said, using Ezra's exact words. "She thinks she can talk you into it. I tried to explain that none of us needs to be the ones to go with them, but she thinks you're the right choice. Guess you could look at it as a compliment."

"Ah suppose." Ezra drank the last of the tea; he didn't have to hold his nose, it was obvious from his expression that it was an effort to get the last of it down.

"Don't worry about it, just say no to her. I told her I would do it."

Ezra cocked his head and laughed lightly. "Did you not just say that it need not be one of us who accompanies them?" He blinked heavy eyes as he waited for his answer.

Chris stared at his friend. He could see in the man's eyes that he recognized a concession made in order to get out of a discussion. "You know how she is. She's a damned rabid dog sometimes until she gets what she wants."

"Ah would not wish to agree with you on that."

Chris shook his head. "You're suddenly a diplomat."

"Always."

"Hand me that mug." It was sagging in Ezra's hand. Chris headed for the door. "I'll lock you in," he added, showing Ezra the key as he opened the door.

"Chris?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you, for … everything."

"Get some sleep, Ez. I'll come see you around suppertime," Chris said.

"Ah will be up well before then," Ezra assured his friend.

Chris grinned, a telling smile, and walked through the doorway, shutting and locking the door behind him. Ezra frowned at that last look on Chris' face, looked at his hand where the mug once was … and felt decidedly woozy at the action.

"Ah, hell," the card sharp said as he put his hand up to his head to help with the disorienting vertigo. He settled into his bed, the configuration of pillows and blankets providing a cushioned bolster for his back. He was unaware of falling asleep as he lay his head on his feather pillow.

---

Except for waking to take care of his biological needs, including food and drink and more tea, Ezra slept for nearly two days. Nathan said it wasn't surprising, that he'd come as close as the healer ever wanted to see to having internal troubles from the beating. He was asleep when Jacob Samuelsson's daughter and son-in-law arrived in town, well ahead of when they were expected.

"He's not been charged with anything. You can't keep him prisoner here."

"I'm afraid you're wrong about that, Mr. Edgerton. He's not been sensible and he has displayed a violent intent," Josiah explained. Jacob Samulesson's daughter Lilith looked at her father as he sat quietly in a chair behind the lectern.

"Surely you must be mistaken, Mr. Sanchez. Look at him," the woman said. It appeared that Lilith Samuelsson Edgerton had her child later in life. The woman was no young girl, her husband likely a few years younger than she. They both seemed prepared to fight to have Jacob freed to stay in the hotel until their departure for Denver in a few days.

"Mrs. Edgerton," Robert Merton said. It was the rancher's shift to watch that Jacob remained calm and, most importantly, at the church. "There are five men who can say for certain that this is not the only way that your father has been acting. He has a calm demeanor now, but he shot four of my friends."

"I have met them. They have each spent time with my father." J.D. and Buck had played cards with the man who shot both of them. Vin was far more reserved around the man, worry for what he'd done to Ezra clouding his ability to remain friendly with the old rancher. Josiah had been a constant presence and would have been whether or not the 'prisoner' was staying at the church.

"He would have beat a fifth bloody, if he hadn't been stopped," Robert said. "Hurt him pretty bad as it is."

"Yes, we heard. How is he? We haven't seen him yet," Carl Edgerton asked. Of course, Carl Edgerton would have missed many of the citizens of Four Corners who had been in to check on his father-in-law as he worked to sell off all of Jacob's holdings. Word was that Lilith's husband was a skilled negotiator and managed a profit on each sale of equipment, livestock, even most furnishings of the old man's home. The house and land was now owned by one of Jacob's nearby neighbors.

"He's recuperating," Josiah said. "He has been under strict bed rest. Some of the hits that Jacob landed hurt him."

"And he's listened, for a change," Robert said.

"In this season, a true miracle," Josiah said with a smile.

"I thank you and everyone else who has visited my father," Lilith said. "It warms my heart that he has made so many fine acquaintances here."

"It's more than that, Lilith. Your father has made friends, he is part of our community," the oldest of The Seven replied warmly. "He will be missed.

She smiled at her father as he seemed to look off at nothing out the recently cleaned window. "I am sorry that we waited this long to come get him. We wanted to, but … well, life just got in the way. It's a terrible excuse."

"You're here now," Robert said. "That's what's important, isn't it Jacob?"

The wind picked up, fat raindrops pounded a cacophony of sound on the roof and the wall and windows facing south. The rain that remained on the periphery these last few mostly overcast days now came at Four Corners with sudden intensity. As suddenly as the raindrops first hit, a downpour started, the sound of it reverberating throughout the sanctuary. Most looked up and around and out the window at the storm, and Jacob Samuelsson made a run for the church entrance. His position well behind the lectern should have made him easy to stop, but the man was blinded by whatever it was that had come over him these last days. Lilith stood in his way and he pushed her, hard, into Robert Merton. Both tumbled to the floor. Josiah, still hampered by his still-healing leg and his position near the door to his back room, thus in the opposite direction from where Jacob was headed, maneuvered his way to the podium but was prevented from making any progress as Robert and Lilith righted themselves.

Carl Edgerton made a grab for his father-in-law, but Jacob's size, and insensate manner, had the younger man dismissed by a heavy fist, a powerful upper cut that saw Carl fall back onto the pew, his head hitting the solid wood.

"Damn," Josiah said as he and Robert worked their way down the aisle.

"Carl!" Lilith called as she ran to her husband. "Carl!" she screamed again as she him, finding him out cold.

"I'll bring Nathan back," Josiah said as he and the rancher and sometime lawman reached the door together.

"Oh, no," Robert said as he watched Jacob Samuelsson run at full power and speed to his target.

"Shit," Josiah said. He yelled, "Chris! Vin! Nate!" and then with equal alarm as an attempt to warn his friend, "Ezra!"

Ezra had been walking in the direction of the church on the main avenue of Four Corners, the burro Joaquin walking beside him, Fred the hound dog riding quietly on the donkey's back. Just before Josiah called his name, Ezra had the donkey turned in the direction of the livery. Both donkey and man were taking it slowly, no doubt partly in deference to Ezra's still-sore body, and partly because of the now-steady rain. Despite all of the considerate efforts from Chris Larabee, Ezra had still found sleep difficult, Nathan's curative enough to knock him out quickly, just not enough to keep him asleep. With sleep elusive, the poker player was determined to make sure that Joaquin was well cared for. He was. Joaquin and Fred had made each other's acquaintance several months ago, at just about the time little Mary Markham and her mother and grandfather were on one of their several-times-a-year supply trips into town. Mary had fallen in love with the little dog. She walked alongside as Ezra made the turn. Anyone watching could see how the little girl listened intently to the gambler, replying in kind, briefly, as he went on with the story being told. All in the group – the man, the girl, the dog and the donkey – wore red ribbons in celebration of the season.

The gambler's rapt audience walked along with him – Mary, Fred and Joaquin – as he recounted a story of a little bird he once nursed back to health when he was a child. It was a story he was never likely to tell his friends, the story of how he fed the baby bird worms and made it a nest of straw and twigs, leaves and bits of cotton. The story taking a turn for the worse as his mother returned and tore him away from the fledgling, from all appearances a young yellow-bellied flycatcher. He told the story of how he wanted the story to go: how he could show how he felt, of how he cried uncontrollably when, as he rode in the carriage and they turned for the tree-lined lane, he saw his older cousin take the nest and toss it and the baby bird into the river. If he told the true story, he would have said that he used what his mother had taught him at such a young age, sitting up straight and stoic as his heart ached for the death of the little, helpless creature. But there was a lesson to be taught in the telling of this story, and it was nothing like the lesson his mother taught him so very long ago.

He shook his head at the memory, and then noticed the rain had become heavier. "We must always do what is right, Miss Mary, even when we know that others might do the opposite. That is why young Fred will always have a home here, and now Joaquin will join him in safety within the comforting breast of the citizens of our fair town. Now allow us to seek comfort from this storm." As he finished speaking, he frowned as he heard his name stridently called. He, Mary and Fred all turned in the direction from where the familiar voice carried over the din of the storm.

"Ezra! Watch out!"

"Ezra!" he heard, another familiar voice, from the here and now, not one from his ruminations on events long ago. Ezra raised his head, looking toward the church, the normal home of the first voice. He was shocked to see Jacob Samuelsson heading right for him, with what appeared to be a Bible in one hand and a hammer in the other. Josiah trailed behind Robert Merton as the resident big-time rancher charged to catch up; the voice of the second warning.

The former con man slapped Joaquin easily and without malice to keep him moving away from the impending collision. He spoke calmly down to Mary Markham, "run to the boardwalk" as he moved as far away from the girl as he could. She did as she was told, immediately. The echo of a gun being fired was followed immediately by dirt spraying before the old rancher. The man staggered to a stop, but then continued toward the card sharp, now just a few strides away.

"Daddy!" Lilith called. Jacob stopped, and then another voice was heard.

"Drop the hammer, Jacob," Chris Larabee demanded.

"That … man, that … cheating gambler, is stealing my donkey."

"No he's not. That's Ezra Standish," Chris said. "You know him."

"He's taking Joaquin," the senile man said. He lunged at Ezra with the hammer raised. The gambler was prepared to defend himself, predicting a direction to move that might save himself, as two bullets were fired into the old man. The first one, from the former gunslinger, caught the rancher in the shoulder, just barely, enough to dislodge the hammer, sending it flying slightly off the trajectory Samuelsson's hand would have sent it. The accomplished odds-maker in Ezra had moved in the right direction, but the hammer still caught him hard on his chest, just in from his right shoulder. The tool landed as well as it could, impacting on its side rather than a more dangerous angle; the hit still took him to his knees. He sat where he landed, breathing through the pain.

The second bullet came from the other side of the avenue, from Vin's mare's leg. It also hit Samuelsson in the arm, very near where Chris' had hit. A bit more skin was affected by the larger caliber bullet from farther away. Neither shot would kill him, but the two shots could work to hamper future use of that arm.

"What the hell are you doing out here, Ezra?" Chris asked as he knelt in front of the Southerner while the Texan checked on the wounded rancher. Lilith, Carl and Josiah reached them. Vin gave up his spot. He stood and saw the healer running their way. The rain had blessedly stopped, but that would fix nothing about how terrible the day had just become.

"Jacob's shot twice in his arm," Vin said, "and he was running pretty hard. Might want ta check his stitches," he added as he stepped over to Ezra.

"Damn," Nathan said as he got on his knees and set his bag down in order to start examining the old man.

"Did you have to shoot him?" Carl asked as he stood, wavering on his feet and failing to focus.

"Yeah," Chris and Vin replied at the same time. Chris stood up and continued, "I'm sorry for what he's going through, but he has injured enough of my men." The leader of the famous seven men looked over to Ezra, who would be nursing a sore chest mixed in with all of his other bruises. "You see how he is now. He got by all four of you." Chris looked over to Robert, whose face mirrored back what Chris was saying. "You need to make arrangements for the remainder of your stay and for how you'll get back to Denver. I cannot have him hurting people. I know he doesn't know what he's doing, but he's big and strong and has a military officer's mind, even in his delirium."

"Would you … "

"No. There are plenty of men you can hire," the tall blond said as he watched the newly-arrived Buck help Vin get Ezra to his feet. Joaquin was led up to the group by J.D., with Fred the dog and Mary Markham looking on worriedly. "We'll help you find the right people. You need to keep him contained or we'll need to put in in the jail." Chris saw Mary frowning over on the nearby boardwalk. He turned to the healer. "Nate?"

"He didn't break his stitches. Both bullets went through. It's messy, but I'll get him fixed up." Nathan and Chris helped Jacob up. Lilith held tight to her husband.

"I got shot for a reason, didn't I?" the old rancher asked.

Lilith walked up to her father. "It's all right, Daddy. We'll take care of you." Josiah glared at Chris and Vin as he followed Nathan, Samuelsson and his family to the clinic.

"What's his problem?" Buck asked as he kept a hand on Ezra's back. Nobody answered, save for a shrug from both Chris and Buck.

"Miss Mary, Ah apologize if any of this distressed you."

"Are you all right, Mr. Ezra?" the little girl asked, her big blue eyes just short of filling with tears.

"Come here, darlin'," the gambler said. The girl ran to him and hugged him gently, knowing that he was still hurting and had just had a hammer thrown at him. "Everything is fine. Ah will retire to mah room and will be right as rain after some rest." He looked down into the young girl's eyes and asked, "Do you know where your grandfather and mother are?"

"Yes. They are finishing up at Mrs. Potter's and then were going to the hardware store. We were going to meet for something to eat before heading back home."

"Tell you what, Mary." J.D. handed Joaquin over to Vin. "Let me help you find them."

"Thank you, J.D., that would be nice." She turned to Ezra. "Goodbye, Mr. Ezra. I hope you feel better soon."

Ezra hugged her as tightly as he could. "Goodbye, sweet girl. Be certain to get dried off. Do not run around in those damp clothes." He looked up at J.D., who nodded that he would take care of it. "Ah will be sure to come out for a visit the next time Ah take the long patrol."

"I'll look forward to that." Ezra kissed her on the top of her head. They separated and Mary stepped over to Joaquin and gave him a hug. "Bye, Joaquin." Then, she kneeled before Fred, who jumped lightly with his front paws, landing light-as-a-feather on her knee. She hugged him and said, "I love you, Fred. Keep bein' good for Mrs. Merton." She kissed him on his head, as Ezra had done with her, then J.D. took her by the hand and they left the area, heading toward Gloria Potter's mercantile.

"Ah believe Ah shall retire to the saloon," the gambler said. "You gentlemen are welcome to join me." Fred jumped down and followed his favorite person, who was shadowed by the ladies' man. Chris and Robert followed.

"I'll join ya after I take Joaquin back to the livery," Vin said.

Mary Travis rushed up to Chris. "You won't go now?"

Chris replied, "We'll talk about this later."

"No. We can talk now," she demanded, her arms folded across her bosom.

Chris stared at her and soon realized he would have to get this done now.

"You didn't want me to go, I don't want to go. I guess that makes us both happy." Chris' friends all left him to his encounter with his lady. Robert Merton stayed, not quite sure that Chris Larabee's body language didn't bode badly for Mary.

"One of you should go," the pretty blond said.

"I'm not having this conversation again, Mary. This town has plenty of men looking for day work, good men, reliable men. You know it, I know it, Robert definitely knows it." Robert Merton nodded his head. He kept a number of men busy through the winter that he could spare and vouch for. "I don't much care about any guarantees you gave Lilith without consulting with me first. They seem to be of means, more so now that they sold all of Jacob's stuff. They can start providing their own watch over Jacob. I hope now that they've experienced his … episodes for themselves, that they hire enough men."

The former gunslinger stepped around the newspaperwoman. "Chris," she started, but he interrupted her.

"I'll see you at supper." Robert walked away, looking forward to the peace and love he would feel at his dining room table with his wife and three children. He whistled, and Fred turned from following the lawmen to the saloon and ran to catch up with the rancher.

Mary was a smart woman, she knew the conversation was over. She knew it had been decided.

"I'll see you at seven?"

Chris grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "All right." She headed for the Clarion, he followed the path his fellows had taken to the saloon. When he reached it, a drink sat waiting for him at his regular seat at their regular table. The fire was blazing, which felt good after the short, cold rain.

Buck pushed the drink more front and center for his longtime friend. "Ezra's sharin' some o' the good stuff."

Chris looked to the card sharp, who appeared a bit worse for wear. Ezra said, "Ah felt a celebration was in order due to mah repeated successful escapes from serious injury at the hands of a menacing Swede."

Vin snorted a laugh as he stepped up to the table. "He doesn't seem ta like ya much, Ezra." He sat down and accepted the drink that the gambler just poured for him.

J.D. overheard the comment as he followed Vin to their table. "I wonder why?"

"Have you met Ezra?" Buck asked jokingly.

"The more he loses himself, the more this will happen. Ah just happen to be his focus. It could have been any one of us. It still could."

"But why is he so angry?" J.D. asked. "He wasn't like that before … well … before."

Vin answered. "He's kept his memories from the war to himself. He's relivin' some o' that."

"And without his normal faculties, he is unable to keep civil. Ah believe mah accent is what sets him off." Ezra frowned, then reached for the bottle, grimacing at the pain from where the hammer landed.

"Are you all right?" Chris asked as Ezra poured himself another drink.

"Ah can still walk and Ah can still imbibe. Ah feel certain Ah will survive."

"You planning to drink yourself to sleep?" Chris asked. Ezra glared at his boss, clearly indicating that his trouble need not be shouted to the townspeople, even though only his law enforcement brethren would have heard the query.

"Indubitably," the Southerner said as he took a swallow of the smooth Kentucky bourbon.

"You havin' trouble sleeping, Ezra?" Buck asked. Ezra shot another glare at the former gunslinger. As much as he had slept over the last days, he had not slept soundly, with long stretches of wakefulness that had seriously impacted his recovery. He hated it when Nathan was right on these things. Buck went on. "I think I know someone who can tire a man out." Ezra stared at Chris, his face not hiding in the least his thoughts of payback for talking to the others about his sleeplessness.

"Ah shall be retirin' to mah room," Ezra said as he grabbed his bottle.

"I'll send Nate up," Chris said.

"You may do as you wish. Ah cannot guarantee the door will be unlocked."

"Got a key," Chris reminded his friend.

"Enter at your own risk," Ezra replied as he left the table and headed to his room.

"We normally do," Buck called. Ezra didn't reply. Buck added to those left at the table, "He's kind o' pissy."

"He's sore, tired," Vin explained.

"And he's gotta deal with your talkin' stupid," J.D. said.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Buck asked, indignant.

Chris answered for the young sheriff. "It means that he's got bruises everywhere, and no, Buck, he ain't had good rest to speak of since getting back from Jacob's place. He's spent more time trying to sleep than actually sleeping. None of your girls is gonna help. I don't think he was kidding when he said the only things that don't hurt him are drinking and his feet."

"Best not tell Nate he said that," Vin told everyone at the table.

"Well, I got shot," Buck said as he went to rub first one arm, and then switched to the one with the actual bullet wound.

"Yeah," Chris said as he stood from his seat. "I'm gonna check on Jacob and then go to Mary's for supper. Vin, go up with Nate when he checks on Ezra." Chris nodded to the bar. "You know where the key is," he said. They placed it practically in plain sight. Ezra hadn't found it yet, though Chris doubted he bothered looking … any more.

"I'll take care o' things," Vin replied.

"I know you will. Thanks." The lean man who wore black less and less, and on this day dressed in a dark green shirt, too dark for the holiday but the sentiment still seemed clear, walked through the batwing doors. Somehow black seemed a better color for the events of this day.

---

"How is Ezra?" Mary asked as she lay in her handsome lawman's arms. They had spoken of Jacob Samuelsson while they enjoyed their supper, an especially savory and delicious venison stew. Not wishing to ruin a good meal and an unexpectedly steamy sexual encounter, Mary held off on the subject of Ezra, a subject that had been a touchy one since the beginning of the two men's association. At first, murder seemed a definite possibility as the leader of The Magnificent Seven and his most troublesome partner were at odds on just about everything. Now, with more than three years working together under their belt, the two were very good friends, though there were still times when the men could get into a row the likes of which, on at least two occasions, became downright notorious. More than anything, that hard-fought friendship made for a commitment to one another that Mary, if she didn't know these men so well, would classify as fanatical. It was a relationship, much like the ones Chris shared with Vin and Buck, that she had felt a spark or two of jealousy about, especially in the last year. She wondered if Chris would ever exhibit such commitment to her. It wasn't fanatical, this relationship between these two men, but as things stood at this moment, Mary would continue to tread lightly when Ezra Standish was the topic of conversation. She chose not to dive too deeply into why she didn't have these same feelings about Vin or Buck.

"Bruised all over. Damn Jacob Samuelsson. He seems fixated on Ezra. We think it's because he's southern and that Jacob might be thinkin' he might still be in the war when he loses touch during these moments he's having. He's a tough son-of-a-gun, he was an excellent soldier, and he's expressing his anger toward Ez."

"That is awful."

"To be honest, the fellas are all tired of dealing with Jacob. He's hurt them all, physically with most, verbally with Nathan." Chris swiped his hair back from his sweaty forehead. "It's not right to send any of them. Robert has men he can spare. We're going to arrange for Carl to hire some of them to escort Jacob, Lilith and Carl back to Denver."

"No."

Chris gritted his teeth and said, "I'm not doing this again, Mary."

"Here." The beautiful newspaper publisher handed Chris a telegraph. "It's from Oren."

Chris stared at her and opened the telegraph. "Hell."

"I'm sorry. Billy ran it over to me before he headed to the Mertons for a sleepover. You were … angry with me. I wanted to give it to you earlier but, well, we were having such a nice evening …." Mary lowered her eyes, but Chris gently raised them back to him with the touch of a finger to her chin.

"It's all right. Does he know someone who knows these people?"

"I imagine he must. I can ask him why it has to be you and two more of our men."

Chris pulled his lover close. She could feel the nod of his head before he said, "I think he owes us an explanation. It's ridiculous that it has to be any of us. Tell 'im it can't be Ezra."

"But his telegraph … "

"I know what it says, but Ezra's hurt, Josiah can't go, either. I'll take Buck and J.D., they're healed, pretty much."

"Oh, no," Mary said.

Chris squeezed her again. "It'll be fine."

"I know you're right." Mary trusted all of the men who protected their town, but she trusted Vin the most to protect her man. Ezra would come in second. Nathan was never a choice, busy with his clinic and helping the townspeople in a different way, but he would be high up on her list. Buck was fine, but she preferred that J.D. not go along. Buck and J.D. together scared her, just a little. Chris had tried, over and over again, to convince her that her concern was misplaced, but she couldn't help herself.

"It'll be fine, Mary."

She closed her eyes and rubbed the chest of the handsome man in her bed. She worked hard to stifle her trembling.

---

"Do what you will, Nathan. Ah am tired," Ezra said as he waved his hand over and over again at the healer.

The former slave waved his own hand in front of his nose, as Vin did with his, and said, "You are drunk."

"Mmmm."

Nathan shook his head. "I won't need ya, Vin. He's out. I doubt the tea would do him much good with all the liquor he's had."

Vin cocked his head. "Reckon. See ya in the mornin', Nate."

"Good night, Vin," Nathan said.

"Good night, Vin," Ezra mumbled, followed almost immediately by a loud snore. Both men smiled sadly at their friend. Vin left. Nathan did a quick check on what he could reach after removing Ezra's guns, jacket, vest, shirt and boots. He could sleep in the rest just fine. He pulled the blanket up to the drunk man's shoulders, checked his forehead to assure himself there was still no fever, and closed the door behind him, using the spare key to lock the former con man in his own room.

---

"No. He needs a few more days before he can travel, Chris."

"Shit." Chris showed up early the next morning at the clinic. Nathan followed him to the jail, leaving Jacob with his daughter, son-in-law and Josiah.

"I've been doing some reading on dementia, senility, and checked with some of the doctors from my Denver trip with Ez and Vin. There's a couple of natural treatments that might calm Jacob down some, along with more zinc and folic acid. It's not likely that this is reversible, but he might not be eating a good enough diet to keep his brain functioning proper."

"Good. Let's give it to him before he has a chance to attack any more people. It's only been us so far, but it could be a woman or another person from town next time. It could have been little Mary Markham yesterday."

"You know he don't know what he's doing, right?" Nathan asked. It hurt the healer when he didn't have a way to ease a patient's suffering.

Chris stood up from the chair behind the desk in the office area of the jailhouse. "Hell, I know that, Nate. But I can't help bein' mad that it's come to this. The man has to give up his whole life. That ain't right." Vivid memories of his wild-eyed father-in-law were a constant reminder of how bad things might get. "Ezra and Josiah'll be healing for a while. Three others of us shot."

"I know. I'm going to try him on a mild version of the broth … "

"Broth?" Chris asked. "Not tea."

"No. He needs extra meat and green vegetables. A calming ingredient, too. We'll see."

"I hope it works. It'll make escorting them to Denver easier for Robert's men."

"I thought Mary said … "

"If your treatment works, there's no reason any of us should have to be on this one."

The black man nodded his head. "I'd rather see our fellas get a little more down time before risking aggravating their wounds. Ezra and Josiah could use a few more days. Vin another day."

"Good. Let me know how it goes."

"I will." The two men exited the empty jail, Nathan walking back to the clinic, Chris to the saloon. He entered the drinking establishment and preferred mealtime location to find Vin sitting at their regular table. Ezra sat next to him.

"Still can't sleep?" Chris asked.

"Figured all that bourbon would keep 'im down through the mornin'," Vin answered before Ezra had raised his heavy head to answer for himself.

"A pleasant morning to you, Mistah Larabee." Mister Larabee. These days, Chris only heard Ezra call him 'Mistah Larabee' when the gambler was angry with him, or when he wasn't feeling well. A brief inspection of the card sharp confirmed how he was feeling.

"Hangover?"

A quiet grunt confirmed it. A hangover.

"Nathan give you anything last night."

Ezra seemed unlikely to answer. Vin said, "He was jest about asleep from the booze when we got to his room."

"How the hell much did you drink?"

"Sssshhhhhh," the Southerner said as he sat with his eyes closed, dark smudges under his eyes.

"We'll get Nathan to give you something strong to keep you asleep," Chris said as Tommy stepped up to the table.

"Mornin'," he said. "As you know, Miss Inez ain't here. I can cook pancakes, and I got plenty of bacon."

"Reckon I'll have pancakes and bacon," Vin said.

"Me, too," Chris added.

They all waited for Ezra to make it three plates of pancakes and bacon. When he didn't say anything, or open his eyes or lift his head, Tommy asked, "Some for you, Mr. Standish?"

Ezra raised his head and squinted at Tommy. "No, thank you. Just more coffee." Buck and J.D. joined them at the table.

"Best make that a pot, Tommy," Buck suggested.

"You bet. We got pancakes and bacon."

"Think we'll both have some, then," J.D. said.

"All right." Tommy left but returned quickly with the pot of coffee. "Food will be out soon."

"Thanks," Buck said. To his friends he asked, "What's goin' on?" To Ezra he asked, "Why're you up?" Ezra rolled his eyes and shook his head gingerly, the laugh he offered held no humor.

"Leave him alone. He still ain't sleeping much."

"Spare us your suggestions, Buck," Ezra said disdainfully. Buck opened his mouth to reply, but the looks he got from Chris and Vin were obvious warnings to steer clear from the topic.

J.D. quickly changed the subject. "Anyone know how Jacob's doing today?"

"I was there before I came here. Nathan's got some concoction, a broth, or something. He's gonna see if it will keep him calm." Chris shook his head. The healer walked in as Vin started talking.

"When we got a horse that ain't no longer himself, when he starts acting strange, hurtin' himself, others, we do what's right and put him down." Nathan and Vin shared a look; there was no disagreement in the expression on the former slave's face.

"Jacob ain't a horse!" J.D. countered, upset by the suggestion from the tracker.

"That jest makes it much worse, J.D.," Vin said. "We won't let the horse suffer, but we will let a man suffer. And he is sufferin', you can see it in his eyes once he's back aware of himself. It ain't right." The former buffalo hunter rubbed gently at his bullet wound from the other day.

"Your arm botherin' you, Vin?" Nathan asked as he took the seat between Chris and Buck.

"Jest a little sore."

"I'll take a look at it after breakfast."

"All right."

"Did you give Jacob that … what is it you planned to give him?"

"It's a strong beef broth, which has a lot of zinc and some spinach and turnips from that inside garden that Dottie Pike is keeping. I also put some laudanum in it, to keep him calmer. He settled in for a rest real quick. Carl brought breakfast for them all from the hotel. Josiah's eaten already, and he's stayin' there until I get back."

Tommy came out with plates of hotcakes, a block of butter, a pitcher of maple syrup and a plate piled with bacon.

"Good morning, Mr. Jackson. I'll be right back with a plate for you."

"Thank you, Tommy." As everyone dove into their food, the healer noticed that no plate of pancakes was placed in front of Ezra. Ezra noticed the scrutiny.

"Ah shall eat later. This is not the hour of the day for eating."

"You look tired," Nathan said, not needing Ezra to tell him that he wouldn't eat so early in the morning. Anyone who looked as poorly as the gambler did would necessarily not have an appetite.

Ezra replied. "Ah am." Chris, Vin, Buck and J.D. all chimed at the same time as their hurting friend, "He is." The town's professional poker player smiled indulgently at his friends' concern.

"Let's talk about what's goin' on with you after I look at Vin's arm."

"Very well." Ezra stood, then said, "Ah will see you both in mah room." He left the table and took the stairs tiredly to the second floor.

"Why do you figure he's got insomnia?" J.D. asked.

"Ain't most of this from drinkin' too much?" Buck asked.

"No, it ain't, Buck," Nathan answered, irritated with the assumption. "He's still dealing with some serious hurt to his body. And he didn't complain … much, but he got extra hurts from Jacob, twice. Man still seems to have it in for him. He's not doin' it consciously, but his mind is probably telling him to be prepared to be attacked."

"Maybe one of us should stay with him while he sleeps, least-wise for a while," Vin suggested.

"I want him to sleep, now," Chris said.

"Vin's arm could probably use some more rest," Nathan reminded the tracker.

"Arm's all right, but I'll stay with him, if it helps."

"All right. Let's call that a plan." Chris stood and said, "I'm meeting Robert Merton at the jail. We're going to pick two good men to send along with Jacob, Lilith and Carl. See you all later."

"Bye, Chris," "See ya later, old pard," and "I'll keep you up-to-date on Jacob," were all heard. Vin's nod of his head to his friend was heard just as loudly as any spoken goodbye.

---

"Hey, Josiah, how are you feeling?" Chris asked as he joined the preacher for a drink later that day. The saloon was relatively empty.

"Pretty good. Resting while sitting and talking with Jacob and his family has been just what the doctor ordered." Chris wasn't especially happy to find out that Jacob had been up and talking, but Josiah wasn't finished. "Not that Jacob's been talking much today. Nate's been trying that new stuff on him. When he's awake, he's not really been with it. I don't think that's what Nate was hoping would happen."

"It might take time for Nathan to get to the right mixture," Chris suggested, hopeful.

"I suppose." The big man took a swig of his whiskey. "Have I missed anything since being up with Jacob?"

"Robert and I found two men to take Jacob and his family back to Denver."

"Really? I thought at least one of us would be going along."

"Nope. It's not necessary." Josiah stared at his boss and friend; he needn't say he was unhappy with the decision; his body language said it all.

"All right. Anything else?"

"Ezra … " Chris started, but he stopped himself from going any further. It really wasn't his place to talk about the Southerner's insomnia, though there was little doubt that he would learn of it eventually.

"What about Ezra?"

"He's had a touch of insomnia. He's sleeping now."

"Maybe I should go see him," the preacher said.

"No. Just let him catch up on his sleep."

"It got bad?" Josiah had missed a lot while spending time with Jacob.

"Yeah."

The two enjoyed their late afternoon drinks in peace, then Josiah stood up. "Best get back over there."

"Thank you, for doing that. You and J.D. and Nate, you've all been good about being with Jacob."

Josiah kept eye contact with Chris until he was ready to say what he wanted. "He's our friend, in spite of the things he's done."

"I know he is. I'm just … I'm not as forgiving as you."

"That ain't true. We all handle things differently, that's all. He does have moments when he knows what's what, talks like he regrets some of the things he's done. But then he's back to not knowin' people he's known for years. Didn't recognize Lilith. Figured it out, but he's unpredictable. I guess maybe I have more tolerance of it, with the way my sister is." Josiah's sister remained cloistered in her own world. He infrequently visited, as before, but saw more in Jacob of how his sister had been for years. He understood, and he knew there would be those who would have a harder time doing so. "Anyway, I should go."

"See you at supper?" Chris asked.

"That's my plan."

The leader of the Four Corners regulators headed upstairs to see two of his men. He knew that Vin would have left the door unlocked, expecting Chris to come check on them. When Chris opened the door, he found Vin uncocking his pistol, muffling the sound as best he could so that he did not wake Ezra.

"Everything all right?" Vin whispered from the far side of the bed. It wasn't his favorite position when he shared the bed with Ezra, having done so on multiple occasions when one or the other was recovering from injury or sheltering from the bitterest of cold nights, Vin's wagon no place to sleep in such weather. But Ezra had already fallen asleep on the side of the bed nearest the door and there was no moving him. The soft feather bed was still firm enough for Vin to ease out of it, eliciting just the slightest subconscious acknowledgement from the slumbering gambler. Ezra made to turn onto his back, but his sore body was still not ready for that. The action was stopped due to the extra pillow Vin placed in his spot; his own body had been doing the same for hours.

"Yeah. How is he?" Chris asked quietly, nodding toward Ezra.

"Hurtin'. Keeps tryin' ta sleep on his back, but ain't no position good for 'im. Nate put some laudanum in his healin' tea, filled it up with lemon and honey ta hide it. Hates that stuff. Don't tell Ez," the man with the especially tousled long hair warned. "Least he's gettin' some sleep."

"He needed it. Saw Josiah. He said Jacob didn't recognize Lilith right away. Did eventually."

"Damn."

"Yeah." Chris nodded back to the bed. "Get some more rest. And I'm pretty sure it's a lot of exhaustion and a little bit of the laudanum that's helpin' him sleep."

"Mebbe."

"You look tired, cowboy. You should really sleep this time. Lock the door behind me."

"Think I will," Vin said as he followed Chris to the door. "Thanks."

"See you at supper."

"I'll make sher he comes with us, if he's awake."

"All right. Have a good rest," Chris said. He opened the door, closed it, and waited for Vin to lock it. The lean former gunslinger made his way to the clinic. When he arrived, Jacob was in whispered conversation with his daughter.

"He seems all right," he said to Nathan and Josiah as they spoke at the door, giving father and daughter some privacy.

"Not ten minutes ago," Nathan started, "he gave us a helluva time tryin' to get out of that bed, even with two new bullet holes. The broth mix kicked in a few minutes ago. He asked to speak to Lilith. I figure it's good, the broth might be working; it's always a good sign when he recognizes her.

"What about being able to travel?" Chris asked. He really was hoping that Jacob and his family could be back home in Denver for Christmas, let the old man enjoy some time with his grandson while he still had moments of clarity. Chris would be glad when this was all over, and he hoped they, too, could enjoy some peace at Christmas.

"He's healing well."

"And he's strong as an ox," Josiah said as he rubbed what appeared to be a newly-sore shoulder.

Chris nodded his understanding of both comments, but asked the question again that had not been answered. "Can he travel?"

"I'd like to keep him here through tomorrow. I think he should be fine to take a coach and trains back to Denver the day after tomorrow," the healer replied.

"All right. Can you send Carl and Lilith to see me at the jail?"

"Sure. Have you seen Ezra?" Nathan asked.

"He's sleeping. Vin says he's still hurting, but he's also getting good rest. They're going to sleep some more and join us for supper." Chris turned to Josiah. "Can you get two people to sit with Jacob? Dave, Marty and Robert said they would be ready anytime we needed them."

"I'll take care of it."

To Nathan, Chris said, "I'll stay here while Josiah arranges for you two to get a proper break, some time away for something other than just to eat. Just make sure he's properly medicated."

"I'm keeping an eye on when he needs it," Nathan said, angry at the suggestion that he might not be, or that he would dose the man up just so he could get himself an hour away. Chris could see the anger in his entire demeanor.

"That's not what I'm saying, Nate. I know you're doing what you can … what you should."

"Damn right, Chris!" Nathan responded, drawing the attention of Jacob and his daughter. "Sorry," the black man called to his patient.

"Calm down, Brother," Josiah said.

"I am calm," Nathan insisted, all evidence to the contrary. "Go ahead and get our replacements. I obviously need a break."

"All right." Josiah left.

"Sorry, Nate," Chris said with sincerity.

"I apologize, too. I can see what you're saying, but we just have to use it right. I have to assume that there are no deadly possibilities with having Jacob take higher levels of the zinc from the beef broth and throwing lots of folic acid at him, and not having a negative reaction because of adding laudanum. I don't see anything so far, other than he is more lethargic, when it does seem to be working, which ain't all the time. Need to be mindful."

Chris nodded. He understood. He took the seat near the door as Nathan headed to his work table and Jacob and Lilith continued speaking quietly at the bed.

---

"I just think it's a shame," J.D. said as he and Buck each nursed a beer while they waited for their fellow lawmen to arrive for supper.

"I know, kid. But going to Denver with his daughter is the only option. He can't keep the ranch going the way he is now," Buck told his upset friend. "Maybe if he's with his grandson, he'll find a reason to keep aware. I've heard circumstance can make the difference, sometimes."

"Yeah, I know. He ain't even told Carl about Joaquin."

"He loves that little runt," the ladies' man agreed.

"I'm not tellin' him about Joaquin. We'll find him a good home."

Buck agreed. "Lots o' folks here who would be willing to take him in."

"If Ezra'll let him go."

"Ez'll do what's right for the little fella."

"I know," J.D. agreed sadly.

"Boys," Vin greeted his friends as he appeared to show up as though a ghost, out of thin air.

"Damn it, Vin. Wish you wouldn't do that," Buck said as he did a poor job of hiding the fact that he jumped at the tracker's voice.

"Do what?" Vin asked with a sly grin, the kind of smile that brought the crow's feet to the corners of his eyes and the twinkle in them. "Might want ta watch yer language. Miss Nettie hears that this time of year she's like to wash yer mouth out with soap."

"Ah, hell." Buck's eyes grew wide as he imagined Nettie holding him down with a bar of soap in her hand, and she wouldn't have one of those pretty smelling ones like Ezra liked. "Ah! Shit. Damn. Never mind. Beer?" J.D. and Vin laughed. Buck lived in the moment; there was no doubt that if Nettie was of a mind to wash out someone's mouth with soap, it would be Buck who lacked the self-control to watch what he said.

"I'll have some whiskey in a bit. Everyone comin'?"

"Think so," J.D. offered. "Is Ezra?"

"Ezra is right heah," the former con man said as he stepped up behind J.D. and Buck. Both men jumped, no attempt, indeed, no time to hide the reaction.

"You two keep doin' that and I'm gonna shoot you, by accident, of course," the mustachioed man said, his irritation clear.

"Doin' what?" Ezra and Vin asked with the same innocent tone. Buck and J.D. had to laugh.

Chris stepped up to the table, the look on his face severe.

"Something wrong?" Buck asked.

"Wait 'til Nate and Josiah get here."

"That don't sound good," J.D. said. Chris stared at the young man, a non-verbal 'no kidding' shone like fire from that body language.

Tommy brought a bottle of whiskey and a tray of glasses as they waited for the last of their brethren to arrive. The four already present were sitting, itching to ask more questions, but they also knew that their leader was in no mood to say what he had to say twice.

Nathan and Josiah trudged through the batwing doors on this late autumn, nearly early winter's eve, both looking drained as they sat down and accepted a shot of whiskey pushed toward each of them.

"Did you tell 'em?" the preacher asked. He knocked back his drink and poured himself another. Nathan, out of character but telling because it was, did the same.

"Waitin' on you two," Chris said. Josiah and Nathan took their seats, Chris followed. He looked from the two new arrivals and then to his other men and said, "Jacob, Lilith and Carl are gone."

"Gone?" Ezra asked. Vin sat up from his slouch. "By gone, Ah trust that you do not mean … "

"No. Just gone."

"How. Why?" Vin asked.

"George at the stage office says they rented a private coach. They asked him to keep it quiet, and paid him enough to do it."

"Is Jacob all right to travel?" J.D. asked.

Nathan slapped his thigh with the palm of his hand. The noise got the attention of those at their table as well as the rest of the saloon's patrons. Chris looked at the healer. He knew that Nathan felt guilty not being able to give Jacob and his family the hope they so desperately sought.

"They left a note," Chris said. As he pulled the letter from his jacket pocket, Josiah shook his head and poured himself a third shot. Ezra reached for the bottle, a silent indication that he would be minding how much the preacher drank, henceforth, this night. Chris looked to Ezra, who nodded and accepted the note as it was passed from Chris to Buck to the gambler.

Dear Mr. Jackson, Mr. Sanchez, Mr. Larabee,

Our devastation at the state we found my father in upon our arrival in your town is profound, but it pales in comparison to knowing that he knows how he has been. He is a proud man, a military man, an officer and a gentleman, and he barely survives knowing what he has done, how he has acted. We understand that he should wait longer to travel, but he would have none of that, his shame too weighty a burden to remain one more hour in this place he has called home these last years.

Carl and I feel compelled to move him as well. I regret not spending more time with him since the birth of my son. I will live with my own regret and shame about that for the rest of my life. He wishes only that he spend some time with his grandson before he goes. We understand that he is not dying, but he understands that he is not truly living. He cannot bear it. I love him so, and Carl and I will do all that we can to care for him. My father's wishes will likely supersede any of those efforts.

Jacob Samuelsson is a proud man. He will not remain on this Earth as he is. He will not subject his family to the pain of his anguish in living. He is smart, he is determined. He is capable, when he manages moments of clarity.

I want what is best for my father. I do not want what he wants. I will try with every ounce of my being to make him understand that he is loved and that he is wanted and that we will do whatever we can for him. We have already contacted specialists in Saint Louis, Philadelphia and San Francisco. It is my most fervent hope that my father allows us the time to see to his needs, to find the hope that we must believe is there but that he does not feel exists.

My deepest appreciation to you, Mr. Larabee, for not filing charges. You most certainly could have, it was your right. It proves to us that my father had become part of a community. I want him to remember that, to know that he has people in Four Corners who found value in their fellowship with him.

Mr. Jackson and Mr. Sanchez, I cannot express to you how much your care of and concern toward my father means to me. I will never forget your kindnesses.

Please be sure to let everyone who my father hurt know that he is aggrievedly sorry for his actions. For Mr. Standish, I have not yet been able to understand his particular actions against you. I can tell you that his shame reaches deep in his soul, and he has made especial note of what he has done to you. Accept my apologies on his behalf as well.

Please thank Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Travis for their help in settling my father's estate.

And finally, my most sincere apologies on behalf of Jacob, Carl and myself for running out on you. There was no stopping my father, once the decision was made, and I could not bear forcing more pain on the wonderful people that we met during our time here.

This time of year is supposed to be one of peace, a time to celebrate the birth of our King of Kings, the Prince of Peace. I hope that removing Jacob and the difficulties of these last days from your presence affords you all time to reflect on what is important and to hold close those that you love. That is my intention, with my husband, my child and my father, for as long as I am allowed.

With deep regard,

Lilith Edgerton

Ezra set the two-page letter down, picked up his whiskey and downed all of it. He took the bottle, filled his glass … and filled Josiah's as well.

"Is he … I mean, is Lilith saying that Jacob wants … is thinking about … "

"Putting himself out of his misery," Vin said.

Nathan slammed his hand into the table this time. His anger was palpable. "I couldn't get him any hope. It's my fault … "

"It ain't nobody's fault, Nate," Chris said, unwilling to allow the healer to take responsibility for something that everyone knew had no easy answers. "People get old, people get senile, people die. Is it shit that this is all going down at Christmas? Sure. Does it make it seem worse because of that? Yeah. But as you know, from your research, there is no cure. You just get worse."

"It's shit," Buck said.

"He shouldn't kill himself," J.D. said.

"It is a personal decision. You cannot pass judgment on such a thing, J.D., not before walking in his shoes," Ezra said.

"God wouldn't like … " J.D. started, but Vin stopped him.

"It's a personal thing, J.D., ain't our business. I agree with his way of thinking, if it's as bad as Lilith says. A man like that, proud, strong, a warrior. Knowing he's doing things he would never do, would never approve of … it's a mercy to know you can make that choice. I hope I'm in a place where I ain't too far gone to make that decision for myself," Vin said, expounding on a topic that he had clearly put some serious thought into.

"I wish I had time, more access to treatments. I don't have what I need … "

"Stop it, Brother. This is the first time you've had to deal with something like this since you put up your sign as a healer. Nearly four years. And we know that now that you have, you'll put your head down and find out all that you can for the next time," Josiah said, hoping to soothe his friend's pain. "I, for one, appreciate that, especially considering that I am the most likely next in line."

"Aw, come on, 'siah!" J.D. said. "That ain't happening to you."

"I hope it doesn't, J.D., but it could. And I know that I'll be in good hands if it does." Josiah reached his arm out to Nathan and rubbed his friend's shoulder. Nathan reached his hand up and patted Josiah's hand affectionately.

"Did they take Robert's men with them?" Ezra asked.

"No," Chris replied.

The seven lawmen sat in silence as they each dealt with this turn of events in their own hearts and minds.

---

"It's Christmas eve. It ain't right that Inez can't be here."

"There is a time for everything," Ezra replied.

"Ecclesiastes 3:1, and a season for every activity under the heavens. Are you feeling a particular kinship with our Lord on this Christmas eve, Ezra?" Josiah asked.

"Ah am not. Ah am simply expressing to J.D. that this week is not the time for mahself and Inez. Next week will be our time."

"Hopefully more than just next week," Buck said.

"Hopefully," Ezra agreed.

"You feeling all right?" Nathan asked. Since Jacob Samuelsson's departure, the healer had made himself scarce except to treat those who required his expertise, his exceptional care, his concern and his knowledge. Ezra had been healing well since Jacob left. No one had mentioned that maybe he had been, in fact, psychologically keeping himself aware, ready to defend himself against another attack. His sleep had returned to its normal routine, frustrating as it was to the rest of them: they were back to not seeing the gambler until near noon on most days.

"Indeed, Ah am, Nathan. Ah have your healing hand to thank, as always. You are a blessing to us all." Nathan smiled sadly and looked out toward the street through the closed door of the saloon. Ezra could see that his friend was not interested in continuing that conversation. He caught the eyes of Chris and Vin, who sat quietly watching the exchange. Ezra cleared his throat and said, "We have been through a difficult time. And we were unavailable for the decorating of the tree here, as we have done these last few years. How would you all feel about decorating our own tree?"

"You want a tree at the jail?" J.D. asked, a quizzical look on his face.

"No, not at the jail. As you know, Josiah has adopted the nearest fur tree to the church. The Pine family, Missus Travis and Missus Potter both have one in water in front of each of their places of business. Inez as well decorated this one, in our absence." The tree at the saloon was placed in the window, a fortunate location that, in combination with the general positive good cheer of the season, prevented the window from being shattered on more than one occasion. Vin joked that they should keep a tree there every year. Inez was seriously considering doing so.

"There are a few more around town," Buck said. "Christmas trees are my favorite decoration for this time of year."

"Except for mistletoe," Vin said as he smiled at the mistletoe dangling from the brim of Buck's hat.

"Goes without sayin'," the ladies' man said with a smile.

"Yes, there are others, but there is a space where Ah believe a Christmas tree is demanding to be positioned."

"Where?" All of Ezra's fellow lawmen asked.

"On Nathan's balcony."

"I don't know," the former slave said. There was no doubt that, when it came to this Christmas, Nathan was definitely off his feed, not interested in participating in the activities.

"Come on, Nate. Ezra here's got a good idea for a change."

"Thank you, Buck," the card sharp replied dryly.

Chris smiled. "You have that big deck up there. Might be a good idea to set a tree up there. Deck might come tumbling down and then you'd be forced to find a better place for the clinic." Josiah snorted a laugh, Nathan did, too, as much as he tried to hide it.

"Look at Chris, makin' a funny," Vin said with a crooked grin.

"In addition," Ezra said, his own sly smile there for all to see, "Ah have already enlisted the children to make some ornaments." The Southerner picked up a cloth sack from the floor and undid the ribbon that kept it closed. He pulled out one, then two, three … finally, ten ornaments, all made of clay, all of a similar theme.

"What's this?" Nathan asked.

Ezra grabbed the healer's shot glass. "No more liquor for you, mah friend. If any of we here at this table should recognize a stethoscope, it is you." Nathan slapped Ezra hard in the arm. Ezra 'Ouched' dramatically, and equally dramatically, he rubbed his arm where the large, strong man hit him.

"I know what it is, Ezra. How did you do it?"

"Ah did not do it. The children all worked together, in teams of two, to research the 'tools of the trade', shall we say, of a doctor, found illustrations for them … "

"Where'd they do that?" Nathan asked. Ezra ignored him.

"The children took their illustrations to Nokosi, our magnificent Seminole potter, and he helped them form the implement."

"Look at that. That's a bedpan!" J.D. said with a chuckle.

Nathan looked to Ezra with a slight scowl. "Ah did not select the implement, rather, in some cases, accessory, of choice."

"Let's see what we got here," Josiah said. "We know there's a stethoscope and a bedpan." Chris shook his head and lowered it as he tried to hide his laugh.

"What's this?" Buck asked as he moved it in front of his face, brow furrowed.

"Forceps," Nathan said. He nodded to the ornament that Vin held. "That's a speculum." To Ezra, Nathan said, "These are good."

"The children and Nokosi are quite talented," Ezra agreed.

"Ew. A saw?" J.D. asked.

"Nate's used one," Buck said, "ain't ya, Nate?" He turned to J.D and added, "Don't be a baby."

"I have. Scapels, a short one and one for deeper tissue," Nathan said.

"What's this?" Chris asked.

"Look closely," Ezra said as he stood, retrieved the oil lamp from the wall fixture and brought it to the table.

"Hey!" someone said at a nearby table where poker was being played.

"Just one moment," Ezra said as he placed the lamp on the table and leaned over Chris' shoulder. "Do you see?"

"Medical book." Nathan smiled as he saw the realization in Chris's face.

"Indeed."

"What's this?" Buck asked.

"A bone drill," Nathan and Ezra replied at the same time.

"Yuck," Buck said, as though he were just on the edge of throwing up.

"Don't be a baby, Buck," J.D. told him.

"Shut up, kid." J.D. laughed, as did everyone else at the tabled.

Nathan counted. "That's nine. You said there were ten of them."

"There are. Here." Ezra handed the last one to his friend.

Nathan examined the ornament. "This ain't a doctor's tool. Looks like a, wait, money … one of those new twenty-dollar bills I was reading about in the paper."

"Yes."

"It's not a medical tool."

"Open it," Ezra said softly.

"Open it?" Nathan looked more closely at the clay ornament, Josiah looking over his shoulder from one side, Chris from the other.

"It don't open, Ezra," Josiah said.

"It does," the gambler insisted.

"Doesn't," Chris said.

"Ah believe that it does. One must exhibit patience."

Nathan gave up and handed the clay twenty-dollar bill to Chris. Chris exhibited as much patience as Chris generally did, and handed the ornament to Ezra. Ezra rolled his eyes.

"Ah suppose Ah must be satisfied that you gentlemen manage a bettah level of patience during our regular law enforcement work."

"Shut up, Ezra," Chris said.

Ezra smiled with satisfaction in getting a rise out of Chris, and barely touched the clay treasury note. The top popped ajar, and he handed it back to Nathan.

"How'd … "

"There is a small bump on the back, a lever that springs the top open."

Nathan examined the outside of what he now knew to be a receptacle. "This was made by Nokosi?"

"And designed by Master Thomas Maxwell and Miss Emily Merton."

"And a little help from you," Vin said, impressed with the mechanics and the artistry of the thing.

"What is this?" Nathan pulled out a tiny … something. He held it up so that everyone could see it.

Chris leaned in. "Looks like a paper tree.

"A Christmas tree," J.D. chimed in.

Vin knew what it was. "Unfold it," he said.

"No, don't. Look, it's a perfect little tree," J.D. complained.

"He can fold it back up," Buck said. "And if can't, figure Ez here can."

Ezra smiled and watched as Nathan unfolded the paper tree. "It's … it's twenty dollars." The healer looked inside the largest of the clay ornaments. "There are nine more trees in here, Ezra. What am I supposed to do with two hundred dollars?"

Buck spit out his beer, aware enough to turn in time to send it to the floor. He coughed and coughed some more.

"Allow me to translate for Buck," Josiah offered. "What on God's green Earth do you mean what are you supposed to do with two hundred dollars?" Buck coughed again as he tried to get the beer that shot up his nose and down his windpipe to ease his discomfort. He tapped Josiah on the arm.

"Like what he said," he eked out.

"I don't want … I can't accept this gift, Ezra."

"You can," the former con man said. "And you will."

"Why? I can't repay … "

"There is no expectation of repayment. It is a gift, and Ah have a notion of what you are supposed to do with two hundred dollars." Ezra reached to his pocket inside his jacket and handed Nathan a folded piece of paper.

Nathan opened the paper and read. His eyes grew wide, and he looked at Ezra, then to Josiah.

"Did you put him up to this?" he asked his friend, whose penance seemed well on its way to being satisfied with good works and being a good man.

"If you like it, yes. If not … no." Ezra looked at first irritated by the big man's response, but he eventually smiled, conceding the humor. Josiah offered a huge smile back.

"You paid for one of these already," Nathan said, close to chastising in his attitude.

"This one is different. Look to Tuesday and Wednesday in the schedule of sessions."

Nathan's eyes went to those days. "Tuesday is an all day surgical seminar." He could never get enough in-person instruction on surgery. His eyes moved down the page. He gasped, looked up at Ezra, and then over to Josiah. He turned back to Ezra and said, "A half day for elderly care, including options for when folks show signs of senility."

"Yes, well, as much as Josiah is concerned for himself in his impending old age … "

"Hey, there," Josiah interrupted jokingly.

"As Ah have chosen Four Corners as mah home, and considerin' how often we get hit in the head in our line of business … " he looked around and saw them all smiling, and then the torrent of challenge began.

"You mean you get hit in the head," Buck said.

"I don't remember me getting hit in the head," J.D. added.

"Ain't none of us had more punches taken or bullets usin' their head as a target as you, Ez," Vin said.

"Very well. As often as Ah get hit in the head, and considerin' mah other chronic medical concerns, there seems the possibility that Ah might require the assistance of a man with some expertise in the area of aged care."

"This conference, it's in San Francisco, in February."

"This February?" Chris asked.

"End of the month," Nathan noted.

"Bit of a haul to get there," the preacher noted.

"Train and coach, much like our trip to Denver," Ezra said. "We are all fully aware that we are far from civilization, though our citizenry has learned to build our own civilized society in our small, dusty burg."

"You'll be gone a while," Chris said.

"We have doctors within less than a day's ride we can call upon in Nathan's absence. Of course, we will call upon the knowledgeable ladies of our town as well. Remember, what Nathan learns will benefit us all," Ezra reminded his friends.

Chris really could not counter that. He worried how many of his men would scramble to be Nathan's partner on this medical adventure.

"You goin' with him this time?"

"Ah have no plans to attend the conference in San Francisco," Ezra answered with distinct evasion.

"You didn't answer the question," Chris challenged.

"No, Ah did not." Ezra looked to his watch as he noticed Tommy begin to shoo out other clientele. "Merry Christmas, everyone."

The End.