"Let's ride."
The six men rose from their leisurely afternoon repast and followed the seventh out through the saloon's batwing doors with urgency. It was something the pretty Mexican barkeep and the townspeople had witnessed any number of times over the last three years. That all seven of the peacekeepers were still alive and keeping watch over their town was a miracle, one that certainly rivaled the miracle that they all celebrated each year at this time. The shopkeepers and ranchers, the fruit and vegetable growers who managed their small farms along the bosque outside of town, all of the families, the number of which had multiplied dramatically over these same three years, all of these citizens of Four Corners and its immediate beyond owed these men for the turnaround that had taken place in their growing town. This small, dusty town had been the epitome of "Wild West" living before these men had taken their positions and fulfilled their destinies. Four Corners now drew people to it rather than sending them away in fear.
Inez Rocillos watched worriedly as the men rushed from her drinking establishment. She watched one in particular, a man who had become a special part of her life. She was grateful when they left like this, seven men, together; she liked to think that they were untouchable. Together. She needed to think this as things changed between her and the smartly dressed man who walked out the door … and didn't look back.
She prayed that they would return safe and unharmed.
"Inez?" Mary Travis called from the doorway.
"I do not know," Inez replied as she joined her friend and watched as The Magnificent Seven left town, their horses leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Mary, though concerned for all of the men who had grown dear to her these last years, held their leader in her heart in a special way. Her worry was palpable as she placed her arm around Inez and hugged her close.
The two women and the others of the town might not have been privy to what sent these men rushing out of town to the east, but the seven lawmen knew precisely what they were in for. Their saddlebags were overstuffed with provisions, extra blankets had been tied tight along with their normal gear behind their saddles. The possibility was real that they would not be home for Christmas in two days' time. One among them carried a surplus of supplies needed for treating wounds. He hoped that his skills as a healer would not be needed, but he'd ridden with and stood by his friends now for some time, and knew that is was far better to be prepared for the worst in their line of work.
Their leader, Chris Larabee, had advised them of the chances of being called upon to help track down Lester Morrow and his gang. A posse was following the group of five, but the Morrow gang was known to be exceptional riders and had remained a half a town ahead of the law for two weeks now, leaving each town that they'd visited ravaged, banks robbed, stores ransacked, downtowns burned, women assaulted. Three men were left dead in their wake. The leader of the protectors of Four Corners had received a telegram days ago from Oren Travis, the territorial judge and the man who had hired the seven men to protect the town, the town that his widowed daughter-in-law and his grandson, Mary Travis and young Billy, called home. The judge was on his way to watch over the town in the event the seven men would need to join the hunt for Morrow. The new telegram received this morning had forced them to leave ahead of the judge's arrival, per the judge's instructions in the urgent wire.
They were headed east, toward Cortez. The judge's notice said that the gang, which had been heading due south from Denver, on course for Oren's home of Santa Fe, had changed direction in Durango and was now headed for Cortez, which put them on a meandering though very likely new trajectory: Four Corners. Earlier telegrams between Chris and the judge determined that the Seven would take the fight that was sure to ensue in any attempt to capture the gang as far away from town as possible.
The first day saw them stop just once to rest the horses. It was dangerous country they crossed. Small rag-tag bands of Indians still haunted the area, despite the vast numbers who had been marched to their new "homes" on reservations. Vin Tanner, the former buffalo and bounty hunter, knew the area well. He had led them to a protected shallow cave, not far from an even more shallow creek. It was late now, about ten o'clock. The moon shone bright, too bright, frankly, for their liking. Tanner watched as two of their group headed to the water source to fill their canteens.
"You sure it's safe here, Vin?" Buck Wilmington asked as he settled his big gray for the night. He accepted the light grooming, affectionately nuzzling his person on the neck. The ladies man seemed to have the same effect on the equines as he did with the ladies. The night would be cold; he decided to leave the extra blanket that he'd brought over top of his saddle blanket to help keep Clyde warm. He knew the stable mates would huddle together for warmth, but the compassionate man had as much of a soft spot for horses as he did for the ladies.
"Reckon so," the tracker replied as he kept watch over the dark images now grown small as they reached the creek.
"Safe enough for a fire?" Josiah Sanchez asked.
"Yeah, but keep it small, 'siah," Vin replied as he nibbled a blade of grass. Chris watched his friend from a distance. He knew Vin Tanner well. The man was worried, even if he was trying his best to hide it. The tall blond took a long draw on his cheroot and looked up. They'd had a bright moon, even though the full moon was nearly two weeks past. They had ridden a good, long stretch in the brightly lit dark night. They would spend only a few hours overnight resting. There was a goal, and that goal was to intercept Morrow and his gang as near to Cortez as possible. Chris wasn't very worried about having any alive to bring to justice, but if he had any he wanted to deposit them in the Cortez jail rather than having to keep them in his town.
"Whatcha thinkin', old pard?" Buck asked as he stepped up beside his oldest friend.
"Wonderin' how mad the judge would be if we came back with five bodies."
"Not too happy, I expect. They don't seem like the givin' up type, though," Buck replied.
"No. Guess the judge will survive if it comes to that."
"Josiah's got coffee brewing," Nathan Jackson, the former slave and town healer said.
"Good," Chris said, louder than needed.
"I heard that," Vin called softly from his perch behind a rock, not taking his eyes from the path his friends had taken. They were protected on two sides by canyon walls, and the creek provided some protection and little chance for anyone to sneak up quietly on them with the noises of tall grass, dried brush and maneuvering in the dark across the roots of cottonwoods. The way they'd taken in was really the only way in or out. Vin knew that, and though Chris and Josiah and Buck were talking, they were also all keeping their eyes peeled. Ears, too, for that matter.
"Brother Vin, it's best that we all accept our shortcomings," the former preacher advised.
"For all our sakes," Buck added wryly. The men grinned nervously. Vin couldn't make coffee, at least not something drinkable. It was a simple fact of life. But now was not the time for mirth.
"They're back," Vin announced. J.D. Dunne and Ezra Standish walked into the camp.
"Nothin' much goin' on out there," J.D. reported.
"Good. Buck, Josiah, Nathan and J.D., get a bite to eat and bed down," Chris ordered. After three years riding with these men, Chris had learned who needed to sleep, especially over the course of a short night, and who didn't. He, Vin and Ezra would take turns napping sitting up. The fact that Ezra Standish didn't need the number of hours he slept didn't mean that he wouldn't take advantage of getting eight, nine or ten hours when he could. Most nights, these days, he could.
But not on this night.
"I will take first watch, Mistah Larabee."
Chris and Vin looked toward the gambler. "Ezra … " Vin started.
"Ah am not tired."
"You know how this works, Ezra," Chris began.
"Ah do. Nonetheless, you should both rest. One of you can take over for me, in an hour."
"Yer shur, Ez?" Vin asked.
"Ah am."
Ezra might not have been tired, but there was something bothering him, Chris thought to himself. He was drawn away from those musings, though, by louder-than-necessary chatter from Buck and J.D.
"Simmer down over there," Chris instructed the two men, men who seemed like brothers separated at birth, save for the age difference. Their bond wasn't instantaneous, but it didn't take long for them to grow as close as any siblings Chris had ever witnessed.
"Ain't nobody out here," J.D. complained quietly to Buck.
"Don't make sense to push our luck, kid," Buck replied.
"Why do you suppose he hasn't asked her yet?" the young man asked his best friend.
"Don't know. It's not my business."
"He should."
"Why's that, J.D.?" Josiah asked.
"Well … because ... . You know."
Josiah and Buck shared a perplexed look.
"If I knew, J.D., then I wouldn't have to ask, now would I?" Josiah offered. The man who continued his penance by slowly, purposefully re-making the church in Four Corners into a cherished place of worship for the area, had a booming voice, when needed, but he could also speak in the most hushed of tones. J.D., finally realizing that he might be talking loud enough for Ezra to overhear, lowered his voice to an actual whisper.
"They're … you know … doin' it," J.D. explained.
Buck frowned. "J.D., you can't be upset with Ezra for that," he said. When he saw J.D.'s reaction, his dark eyes shining in the light of the fire, full of confused concern, Buck added challengingly, dumbfounded, "You're not."
"I was raised … "
"J.D., do you expect Buck to make an honest woman of each one he beds?" Josiah asked. The former preacher was sure he sensed the tall gunman shudder at the thought as he asked the question.
"Well … no, of course not."
"How is it different with Ezra, then?" Buck asked.
"'Cause he loves Inez," the youngest member of their group said.
"I love those women," Buck defended. Josiah stared at Buck. They both knew there was a difference, and that Buck should clarify that point with J.D. But he remained quiet, much to Josiah's disappointment.
"It ain't the same!" J.D. challenged, his voice rising, not knowing exactly why he felt it was different.
"That's enough," Chris demanded. His voice was firm, and sounded much closer than expected. Buck, J.D. and Josiah turned toward their leader … and found Ezra standing behind the former gunslinger, and nowhere near far enough away not to have heard the last of their conversation. He appeared to look straight through them as he headed past the well-trained, ground hitched horses to his post for the next while.
Nathan had been trying to sleep through the discussion. Once he was assured that Ezra was no longer within hearing distance, he finally spoke up.
"J.D., it ain't your business," he said.
"But … " J.D. tried to defend his point, but Josiah had definitely had enough.
"That's enough, J.D. I'm sure Brother Ezra has his reasons … "
"Look. I told him I wouldn't say anything, but … Ezra and Inez are, well, they ain't a couple anymore," Nathan explained sadly. "It would be best if you just leave him be," he added. To J.D., he concluded, "Stop speculating." He turned in his bedroll to look out toward where Ezra had gone, his back to his fellow lawmen a clear indication that he was through talking for the night. To say that he felt guilty telling them Ezra's secret didn't really come close to what he truly felt.
"I didn't … I mean … "
"J.D., go to sleep," Chris ordered, as firmly as he could. He joined Nathan in looking toward the gambler. He shook his head as he lay on his own bedroll for some shut-eye.
The camp remained quiet for the remainder of the night.
Morning saw them back on the trail. Water was scarce in this part of the high desert; they had stopped to rest and water the horses at one of the few watering holes not far off the trail to Cortez.
"They're likely to head this way," Vin said.
"And they gotta know that others around the territory are looking for them," Chris answered.
"You wanna make a stand here?" Buck asked.
"Not here. I'm gonna head east a piece."
"Where do you want us?" Chris asked. He could tell the tracker had a plan. They were lucky that it was late December; waiting in the desert in the summer in this area could be considered a suicidal act. But the day was cool, the sun blocked often by winter cloud cover. It looked like snow was imminent.
"A couple miles back, just before the crossroads … " Vin started.
"Painted Rock?" Josiah finished for his friend.
Vin nodded faintly. "That part of the road has 'em comin' in blind from the northeast."
"They'll send a scout ahead," Buck suggested.
"Better if they split up," J.D. said.
"It is," Chris agreed. "We can send Ezra up to the top of the Rock, watch for them, and you," Chris said to Vin.
"Why me?" Ezra asked.
"'Cause you climb like a monkey, Hoss. Only one of us who would get up there faster is Vin," Buck explained.
"I can … " J.D. offered, but Ezra cut him off cold.
"I will go." Chris didn't like it, this two or three words at-a-time Ezra. He didn't love the verbose Ezra a lot of the time, but it beat this. He felt bad about whatever had happened between the card sharp and the barkeep, but he needed to have Ezra focus completely on the task at hand. His eyes caught the southerner's. He received a nod, the gambler's assurance that he would do what was necessary. Chris had learned that he could trust Ezra, just as he trusted all of the others. It had taken longer for him to get to that point with former con man, but his faith in the man was as true as his faith in them all.
"All right. Let's get movin'." Chris looked to Vin. "Watch yer back."
Two hours later, as a light snowfall left a dusting of white everywhere on the cold winter day. Ezra called down to his fellows, "Two men, comin' fast." The two slowed as they approached, seemingly knowledgeable of the blind spot they ventured toward. They made the turn, guns drawn, to find five men with their guns pointed straight at them.
"Drop your weapons," Chris ordered.
"Like hell," one of the men said. These men were dangerous, they were murderers. They knew what fate held for them if they were taken in to face justice. The man took the only chance he thought he had, aiming and firing at the leader of the Seven. What he'd failed to realize was that these five men had a sixth, their ace in the hole, watching from above. Josiah had often said that there must be some being watching over them, but he never would have named it Ezra Standish. The minute movement that the man made as he adjusted his aim was all that Ezra needed. His distance was just at the long end of what his Remington could reliably manage. His aim was true, as was his trusted weaponry. It was Ezra's bullet that pulled massive chunks of flesh from the man's shoulder, but it was Josiah's or Buck's shot that killed him. The man's partner pulled the trigger of his Colt. The bullet just missed Chris; Chris, Nathan and J.D. all hit their mark. The second member of Lester Morrow's gang toppled from his horse, dead before he hit the ground.
"Come on, Ezra, let's ride," Chris called up. Vin would make his best effort to somehow corner the last three, but the rest of the Four Corners regulators needed to fly like hell on their horses to help their friend. The nimble southerner was down in no time and they took to their horses, the devil on their tails.
They heard gunfire as they approached the watering hole from earlier. Morrow and his two cohorts were down the creek bank among the stand of cottonwood trees. Vin must have waited for them to rest and water their horses and started firing, forcing them into a corner. The tracker was on the rise to the north, clearly having remained ahead of them after the other two had ridden ahead. The sun was working against the tracker, low in the sky on a late winter's morning. The clouds and the snow from earlier were now nowhere in sight, having moved swiftly through the area.
"Ah am goin' to their rear!" Ezra called over the gunfire. "Cover me!"
"Ezra! Damn it!" Chris growled as he watched the man in the plum-colored jacket head towards the bullets coming from the three wanted men.
"Lay down some fire for that idiot!" Chris yelled.
And they did.
Gunpowder filled the air, blanketing the area in smoke, the smell of it choking as Chris, Vin, Josiah, Nathan, Buck and J.D. walked among the results of the gunfight. They were all fine, no bullets having perforated any of their bodies. They quickly came upon two dead bodies. Lester Morrow was one of them.
"Where's Ezra?" J.D. asked.
"Where's their fifth?" Josiah followed.
They found the last of the five wanted men, a huge man, his body at the edge of the water, partially hidden by winter-dried grasses and shrubs. Nathan checked for a pulse.
"Dead."
"Where the hell is Ezra?" Chris asked no one in particular. A quick search of the area came up minus one card sharp. Chaucer stood not far from the dead body.
"Vin?" Chris asked.
The tracker walked about slowly, checking the ground, reading the sign, translating the activity that he'd observed in his head, replaying the possibilities. Chris watched, ever amazed at Vin's ability to analyze even the littlest bit of information and glean its meaning. The tall blond knew the moment Vin had figured it out, and trotted quickly to catch up to the quickly moving Texan.
"Help me move 'im," Vin said, indicating the giant of a man on the edge of the water.
"Ah, hell," Nathan said as he grabbed his saddlebag and followed along. Josiah started a fire as Buck and J.D. waited for instructions from someone on what they could do to help.
"Nathan!" Vin called urgently as he and Chris heaved the giant over, the dead body rolling farther into the water. Ezra was there. He looked dead, too.
"I'm here. Let me see him." For the next few critical moments, Ezra's friends looked on in fear as they watched Nathan check over the con man. And it was a terrible thing to witness. Ezra hadn't been breathing, smothered by the man laying dead atop him. There was no way to know how long the gambler hadn't had air. Much like what he had done any number of times before, with drowning victims, Nathan used special breathing to force air into the man's lungs. Finally, Ezra took his own deep breath. Many deep breaths, in fact, in between coughs of desperation, desperate gasps in the hopes that the air would finally do what it was supposed to and make him feel like he wasn't suffocating any longer.
"You'll be all right, Ezra. Breathe easy, now," Nathan encouraged.
Vin watched carefully, then said, "Looks like they got into a fist fight."
"Looks like Ezra lost," Buck added.
"Ah … did … not … " Ezra panted. "Won."
"It doesn't look like that from our vantage point," Josiah said. "Got a fire going, Nate." Ezra trembled at the thought of warmth.
"Let's move him over," the healer said. Ezra started to rise, but Nathan stopped him. "Relax. We'll move you." And as they did, Nathan started asking his patient questions. His patient, grumpily and with great embellishment, answered every one. They all breathed a sigh of relief at that. Ezra really would be all right.
"Well, Fred, it seems we are all together for Christmas once more," Ezra said as he petted the little hound dog, a stray who, like the gambler and his six friends, had found a home in the small, dusty western metropolis of Four Corners. Though Ezra was all bundled up, it was still a nice enough Christmas eve to sit outside. "If Ah was a believer, mah little man, Ah would say we were blessed."
"Talkin' to the dog, Ezra?" Vin asked as he took the seat beside the gambler out on the boardwalk of the saloon. Fred wrinkled his forehead at the interruption, sniffed at Vin's capote, licked at it until Vin shooed him away with a light swat at his nose, and then went back to encouraging Ezra to pet him. The little dog sat on a series of blankets piled onto a wooden shipping crate. He was perfectly positioned near Ezra's right hand, though he did need to place his head under said hand to remind the man of his job at the moment. He took his nose, flipped the hand up, reminding its owner that cessation of movement, in other words … stopping the petting, was not allowed.
"Conversation with Fred can be surprisingly cathartic," Ezra admitted.
"Don't talk back," Vin suggested.
"Precisely."
The two men sat companionably. They could hear Buck, J.D. and Josiah inside, arguing over the decoration of the tree. Inez came out to the boardwalk with a cup of coffee for Vin and the pot to refill Ezra's cup.
"Thanks, Inez," Vin said.
"De nada," the pretty Mexican said. She patted Ezra's shoulder before heading back inside. Vin noticed that his friend did not watch her as she left. He remembered what Nathan had told them. Ever since that moment, he had hoped that Ezra and Inez were not really apart, that somehow, Nathan had gotten it wrong. The tracker had even spent time being mad at Nathan on their ride back to town, at least until he saw Ezra and Inez together again.
They were definitely not together anymore.
"Everything all right?" the Texan asked.
Ezra looked up from examining the waves that the coffee made in his cup. He smiled sadly.
"Ah suppose it does me no good to prevaricate," he said as he worked his hand gently around Fred's neck and then down between his front legs to his chest. The dog sat there, soaking in the affection. Even to a stranger, the look of love and gratitude in the little dog's demeanor was crystal clear.
"I don't know, Ez. Guess that depends on what prevaricate means."
Ezra smiled. He knew that Vin knew the meaning. "To tell an untruth," the southerner replied, sending him a knowing look. Vin had the decency to blush. He waited for Ezra to go on. "Miss Rocillos and Ah have decided … we b'lieve it is … "
"Yer takin' a break," Vin finished his friend's thought. He knew that this was not how Ezra had planned to finish, but Vin wanted to hold out hope. From the look on Ezra's face, so did he.
"Yes, well, Ah guess that is one way of puttin' it." More petting of the dog allowed Ezra to avoid further discussion, at least for a little while. Vin could see that the man was drawing comfort from the easy repetitive action of caressing the animal, from the companionship. The former bounty hunter wished that Ezra could truly believe that he didn't need the dog, that he had good and true friends who were committed to each other who wanted to give him comfort, to share the companionship. Ezra was part of them; Vin knew that the man understood that … but only some of the time. He hoped he remembered at this moment that his friendships with these men were deep and true.
"I'm sorry, Ez. I think you two are great together."
"Were."
"Maybe." Ezra's only response was the slightest shrug of his shoulder, followed by a not quite well-hidden wince.
Vin frowned. His friend was still pale from yesterday's encounter with "Ts'emekwes", as Ezra dubbed the giant of a man who had nearly smothered him to death. He claimed that it was the name of a giant witnessed by the Lummi tribe north of California. Buck had said Ezra was just practicing his conning skills and made the name up.
"You feelin' all right?" Vin asked.
Though Ezra had claimed that he won the fight, it was only by virtue of having that little Derringer handy. Though he hadn't been punched in the face or suffered any kind of head injury, for a change, the man had taken a beating. Cracked ribs, hard kicks and hits suffered just about everywhere else. By all rights he should probably still be resting in bed.
"Ah am fine."
"You wanna go inside and watch the boys finish the tree? Should make fer a right entertainin' time," Vin said with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.
"Ah suppose it is somethin' to do," Ezra agreed. He stood slowly. "Come along, Fred."
"Fred have a new collar?"
"The children made it."
"Outta paper?" Vin asked.
"Indeed. It will not last much beyond tomorrow," Ezra noted.
"Maybe that'll be true of your sabbatical from Inez."
"A man who knows sabbatical knows prevaricate, Mistah Tanner. Keep that in mind in your future attempts to console."
"Sorry, Ez … "
"No apology is required. Fine word choice, Vin," Ezra said as he paused at the batwing doors. "Alas, Ah fear the lovely lady will require much longer than that to understand what she desires."
"Think she desires you, Ez."
"Ah am afraid the packaging might be more appealin' than the contents."
"What's that mean?" Vin asked.
Ezra waived his hand in dismissal. "Nothin'." He turned for the door. "Shall we?" They entered the saloon and joined Chris and Nathan at their table. They watched as Buck, J.D. and Josiah continued to adjust the ornaments, eliciting laughter all around.
"Merry Christmas,' J.D. called as Buck chased him around the saloon with a sprig of mistletoe. Ezra shook his head slightly, but found little that not even his friends' antics could put a smile on his face. Ezra might have lost the love of his life. He held out hope, remembering her hand touching his shoulder. He knew he was only imagining the warmth of her touch. He still did not know what had precipitated this change in their relationship, but Inez' confusion and unhappiness had forced his hand. But he still had his friends, his brothers in arms. They may not be related by blood, but they were as close as blood brothers, having together shed their fill of the life-sustaining fluid in battle, cleaned one another's wounds, healed one another's souls. The gambler might not feel the glow of Christmas without Inez by his side, but he would always have the miracle of friendship with these six men, and in that he could sit back, close his eyes and give thanks.
Chris poured a shot each for Ezra and Vin from the bottle of redeye. The gambler raised the glass, and in a clear indication of where Ezra's head … and heart, was, downed it in one gulp.
And he reached for the bottle.
The End.