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Three days of hard riding put them into the railroad town of Bonito a full day before the next scheduled train. Ezra nearly fell out of the saddle as they dismounted at the livery stable. He walked around carefully, wincing with every step.

"I don't believe I shall ever be able to walk properly again," he moaned. "All I want now is a hot bath and all the whiskey I can afford."

"Later," said Larabee. "Right now, I want you and J.D. to sell the extra horses, then buy train tickets for four people and horses to as close to Tascosa as you can get"

"What about you and Buck?" asked J.D.

"We're going shopping."

"Shopping?" repeated J.D., but the older men were already on their way across the street He looked at Ezra and asked, "What does Chris have planned?"

"I don't know, my young friend, but I'm certain we're not going to enjoy it." With that, Ezra turned to speak with the wiry old man emerging from the stable.

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Buck tugged uncomfortably at the high, stiff collar of his shirt and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

"Whose idea was this, anyway?" he grumbled.

Slumped in his seat with his new bowler hat tipped over his eyes, Larabee didn't move. "Mine, remember?"

"Well, it wasn't one of your better ones."

J.D. was grinning from ear to ear, enjoying the older man's discomfort. "I think it's a great idea, Buck," he said. "I especially like your new hat." He ran a hand along the edge of his own bowler.

"Don't push your luck, kid," warned Buck, remembering all the teasing he had given the young man. He didn't miss the smile on Larabee's face. "A man'd just about have to get undressed just to get to his gun."

Ezra looked up from the deck of cards he was deftly manipulating. "Most people wearing such finery aren't concerned with how quickly they can produce a gun," he pointed out, slipping the ace of spades from the center of the deck.

"I suppose that's why you carry that sleeve gun?"

Buck's word's didn't affect the gambler. "As I told Mr. Larabee once, I leave nothing to chance."

Larabee pushed back his hat. "You keep arguing, Buck, you're gonna attract attention, and we don't need it."

"I'm not arguing!" Buck said a little too loudly. The half dozen other people in the train car glanced his direction. "I'm not arguing," he repeated with less volume. "I'm just nervous."

Larabee sat up straight and looked out at the passing scenery. "We'll reach Texas in two days. Figure another day to reach Tascosa by horseback."

"We won't have much time before Mr. Tanner and that loathsome bounty hunter arrive," said Ezra. "Five days. Six at the most."

'That's not much time, Chris," Buck pointed out.

"No, it's not. But it's better than nothing."

Larabee settled into the seat again, pulling his hat over his eyes once more.

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Nathan finished rolling his bedding and set it with his gear, then moved back to the small fire. Josiah passed him a plate of beans and a cup of hot coffee. The black gentleman accepted both but couldn't hide a look of distaste as he ate a mouthful of beans.

"It don't seem right," he lamented. "We're eatin' beans while they're havin' antelope steaks."

Josiah smiled. "Fasting is good for the soul, my friend."

"This isn't fasting. It's torture." Nathan glanced toward the rocky knoll blocking their view of the valley. "I dreamt about steak all night because he shot that antelope yesterday."

Josiah only smiled more broadly, showing a mouth full of teeth. Nathan finished his beans and fished more out of the kettle, resigned to eating what he had.

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Tanner pushed back his empty plate and leaned back against a rock with a satisfied sigh. "That was better than another breakfast of beans and biscuits," he said with grudging respect. "What's next?"

Thompson squatted a dozen feet away, honing the knife he'd used to cut the antelope meat on a whetstone. He glanced at his prisoner, then went back to sharpening his knife.

"Information," he said in a low voice..

Tanner snorted. "What d'you wanna know, if you're doing that right?" He plucked a piece of long-stemmed grass and began chewing one end of it. "Seemed to cut that meat well enough."

Thompson pointed the knife at him. "You got a real mouth on you. I should cut your tongue out and give us both some peace and quiet."

Tanner shrugged. "You're welcome to try," he challenged.

The bounty hunter's eyes narrowed dangerously, then he went back to running the blade over the whetstone in slow, deliberate strokes. "We've been traveling for four days-now, and your friends haven't put in an appearance. I would have expected them to try something before we get to Bonito."

"So you want to know where they are."

"Something like that." Thompson sheathed his knife and said, "I know you were working for a circuit judge, doing work as some kind of lawman. That's a strange thing for a wanted man to be doing."

Tanner couldn't suppress a smile. "A man's gotta eat."

"Yeah. But any judge with an ounce of brains would've strung you up, not hired you. You probably never told him -- or your friends -- that you had a price on your head."

"I told 'em. Didn't make any difference to them."

"If you told them, where are they?"

"Maybe they got lost."

"Or maybe you never told them your little secret and they don't know where to find you. I could be taking you just about anywhere." Thompson smiled maliciously. "You'll be dead before they find you. If they ever find you."

"Nice thought."

Thompson put the whetstone in his saddlebag and withdrew a set of handcuffs and a key ring. He tossed the handcuffs to Tanner.

"You know what to do."

"Yeah, I know."

Tanner put on the handcuffs, closing them just ahead of the heavy manacles he wore at night. Meanwhile, Thompson unwound the chain from the boulder he had wrapped it around. Then he went to Tanner and removed the manacles.

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Larabee and Buck stayed a short distance behind the buggy carrying Ezra and J.D. as they rode toward Tascosa. A collection of adobe buildings, intermixed with the occasional wooden or sod structure, were spread out across the flat plain. To the east of town, a number of tents and dilapidated sheds promised a seedier neighborhood.

"Reminds me of Wickes Town," observed Buck, studying the smattering of tents. "I bet we'd find some real pretty ladies there."

"A pity we won't have the opportunity to find out," Ezra called over his shoulder. "But respectable gentlemen such as ourselves would never go anywhere near such a place."

"And that's a real shame," the dark-haired man said mournfully.

They rode on in silence. The dusty road wound past a number of houses and a blacksmith shop and entered a plaza-like area the center of the plaza was a windmill-powered well surrounded by a grassy area. Large cottonwoods stood in front of some of the buildings around the square. The four friends rode toward a two story adobe building bearing a sign that identified it as the Exchange Hotel.

J.D. stopped the buggy at the hotel. Ezra climbed out of the vehicle, then let his gaze sweep the plaza. "A jewel of a facade for a dreary, dismal place," he observed, stepping onto the boardwalk and dusting himself off. "Mr. Landers, Mr. Wilson, see to our belongings while I register us at this... fine establishment."

J.D. quickly left the buggy. He joined Ezra and they went into the hotel. Buck looked at Larabee and said, "I think Ezra's enjoying himself too much."

He and Larabee removed four small suitcases, dusty but new, from the back of the buggy and carried them into the hotel. Fancy oriental carpets and leather couches decorated the lobby, and a crystal chandelier with oil lamps provided lighting. J.D. was standing a few feet behind Ezra as the Southerner was glowering at a neatly dressed man not much older than J.D. who was standing behind a darkly varnished, ornately carved counter.

"--received confirmation of our reservations last week," Ezra was saying. "Surely you could not have lost them already."

The desk clerk blushed and continued his frantic search through a box of papers. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm not finding it. The name was Stanton?"

"Yes." Ezra put plenty of exasperation into the sigh accompanying that word. "Edward Beauregard Stanton the Third. And associate." He turned to J.D. "Be certain to make note of this, Mr. Dunning. The Judge will be most displeased."

"Yes, sir." J.D. produced a notebook and a pencil and quickly jotted down a note.

"Oh, here it is!" The clerk pulled out a conveniently located piece of paper. "Yes, sir. That was... two rooms? One for you and your associate?"

"Plus a room with two beds for the others. Preferably adjoining ours."

"Of course, sir. I have rooms five and seven for you and Mr. Dunning." The clerk turned and pulled two keys from their slots. "But the only room we have for the others is rather small and farther down the hall."

"That will be fine," Ezra said, ignoring the dark look he was certain Buck was giving him.

The clerk took a set of keys from a slot numbered thirteen. "If you will just sign the register..."

Ezra fastidiously pulled off his dark brown gloves and filled out the book, filling several lines with large, elegant letters. "You will, of course, charge this to the judge's account."

The clerk lost his forced smile. "Excuse me?"

Ezra bent a dark look on him. "It was agreed to when the reservations were made," he stated.

"Um... of course. I'm sure that Mr. Jameson has all that information."

"Very well, then." Ezra collected the keys. "Tip the gentleman, Mr. Dunning."

J.D. dug a silver dollar out of his vest pocket and set it on the desk, then followed Ezra upstairs. Buck and Larabee gathered the gear once more and trudged after them.

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Ezra stared with disapproval at the watch he had borrowed from Buck as a thin-faced, balding man unlocked the doors to the two-story brick building that served as the county courthouse.

"Two minutes late." he chastised as the man went back inside. "Most unprofessional."

Larabee held open the door, keeping his attention on the street. Buck walked through the entrance and moved to one side. Ezra and J.D. followed, then Larabee came in and shut the door. The entrance hall was unfurnished and dimly lit by an oil chandelier, Stairs directly opposite the front door led to the second floor. Peeling paint on a door to the left read CLERK AND RECORDER. Ezra opened the door and strode inside, followed by the others.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" asked the man who had unlocked the door.

"I certainly hope so." Ezra flashed a card in front of the clerk, too quickly for it to be read. "My name is Edward Beaurogard Stanton the Third, with the law firm of Brentwood, Williston, and Carmody of New Orleans. This is my associate, James Dunning. We're here regarding the investigation of Judge Thomas Killane."

"Who?"

"Judge Killane? Late of Austin?" A frown creased Ezra's handsome face. "Surely you received the letter from Judge Lee last week."

"Judge Lee?" The clerk began searching through a wicker basket filled with papers. "I don't recognize the name..."

Ezra leaned across the desk. "Judge Gordon Robert Lee?" he emphasized. "Cousin to the Robert E. Lee, hero of the Confederacy?" He began pacing the room. "He's investigating the case against Judge Killane and was hoping he'd get your full cooperation."

"I must have mislaid the letter," the clerk said hastily. "How can I help you?"

His back to the clerk, Ezra gave a knowing smile. J.D. said, "There are several cases we'll need to look into. We'd like to start with the state versus Vin Tanner. I believe the charge was murder."

"That was the biggest trial we've ever had." Rattling a ring of keys, the clerk moved to a locked door behind' his desk. "That was my first assignment as county clerk." He opened the door and paused, looking over his shoulder. "But the judge on the Tanner trial was Tom Hendricks, not this... Killane."

"An acquaintance of Judge Killane's," explained Ezra, stepping past him into the record room. "And, we believe, equally corrupt." He walked around the small table in the middle of the room, noting the ledgers and books lining the shelves and the dim light supplied by a small, barred window high on one wall. "We'll need more light than this," he informed the clerk. "And privacy."

"There's a storeroom across the hall. There're oil lamps in there."

"That's fine. Mr. Landers, give the gentleman a hand getting them."

"Yes, sir," said Larabee.

He moved to the office door and held it open. The clerk left the office, and Larabee closed the door. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, J.D. looked at Ezra and asked, "What now?"

Ezra eyed the books unhappily. "We see what we can find out about what really happened."

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Thompson swung off his horse and flipped his reins over the hitching rail in front of the train station. Tanner didn't wait for an invitation, dismounting and securing his horse as well.

Thompson shot him a warning look. "That's a good way to get yourself shot," he warned.

Tanner cocked his head to one side. "You think I'm gonna try anything here?"

The bounty hunter didn't answer, just removed his saddlebags and gestured for Tanner to proceed him to the ticket window. Tanner stepped onto the boardwalk and moved to the wall beside the window. Thompson moved forward and said, "I need a ticket to Santa Ria, Texas, and a secure place to keep him." He jerked a thumb at his prisoner.

The skinny clerk's eyes widened as he leaned forward to peer at Tanner through the wire spectacles perched on the end of his nose. "He looks dangerous. Shouldn't he be on a leash?"

A sly smile crossed the bounty hunter's face. Tanner straightened, ready to put in a word of defense on his own behalf. Thompson's gaze shifted to him, and he decided it wasn't worth the effort. He leaned against the wall and looked around.

Several feet to his right, a man wearing a brightly colored serape was asleep on a bench, long legs stretched out in front of him. A battered gray hat hid his features. Tanner started to look away, then stopped as the man lifted his head slightly. The pale blue eyes and toothy smile were familiar to Tanner. The man winked and lowered his head again.

"All right, Mr. Tanner, this way," said Thompson.

Tanner pushed off the wall. "Where we goin'?" he asked.

"They've got a place for you in the baggage car, but for now you're going in a store room so I can get some sleep."

Tanner gave a half-smile. "No jail?"

"Seems they never built one here. But this place'll be just as safe until the train gets here tomorrow."

The clerk was holding open the door to the office. Tanner walked in, followed by Thompson. The office was small but tidy, the only furnishings being a roll-top desk and a chair. To his left, a door opened onto a darkened room.

Thompson reached into his saddlebags and withdrew a set of leg irons. "Do me a favor and put these on him," he told the clerk.

The clerk paled and took a nervous step back. "Me?" he squeaked.

Thompson drew his revolver and aimed it at the center of Tanner's chest, saying, "If he tries anything, he won't have to worry about how he's riding to Tascosa. A pine box will do just fine."

The nervous clerk nearly dropped the chains as he took them from Thompson. He knelt in front of Tanner, hands shaking so hard that the chains rattled noisily. He finally managed to get one cuff attached to each leg, hurrying away as soon as he was done.

"Much obliged."

With that, Thompson gave Tanner a shove toward the room. Tanner stumbled into the darkness and the door shut with a solid click. He heard a key turn and heard Thompson's voice but couldn't make out the words. Then it was quiet.

Tanner shuffled forward a few feet until he found a wall. He put his back to it and carefully slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He pulled off his right boot and easily slid the leg iron off, then repeated the process on the other side. The clerk had been too nervous to make sure they were secured properly, but the handcuffs were another matter.

He lay his head back and closed his eyes. The sight of Josiah had given him a feeling of comfort he hadn't known in a long time. And there was safety in numbers, so he'd have at least one other friend on the train.

He'd be in Tascosa before the week was out. Whatever Chris and the others had planned, they'd have to move fast.

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Josiah stayed where he was, hearing the bounty hunter exit the train station and collect the horses. Leading one and riding the other, the man headed down the street toward the livery stable.

Josiah stretched and sat up, uncrossing his long legs. He looked around carefully, then a smile spread across his plain features. He got to his feet and strolled toward the telegraph office. He arrived just as Nathan came out of the office, brandishing a telegraph.

"Well, we got our answer from Judge Travis. He wants to know what we're doing in Bonito, but this'll get us on the train," said the black man.

Josiah smiled enigmatically. "I have a better idea."

Nathan looked up at him. "What do you mean, you got a better idea? Chris is expecting us in Tascosa!"

Josiah began walking away. "Where are you going?"

"The hardware store."

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The clerk looked up up at the tall, somewhat homely man leaning on the window ledge. "Yes, sir, can I help you?"

"Yeah." Josiah drew his revolver and aimed it through the barred window at the clerk's nose. "Unlock the door."

The clerk's eyes crossed as he tried to focus on the revolver. "You... you can't," he stammered. "I don't have any money here!"

Josiah smiled impishly. "I'm not after your money. I want your cargo."

"My cargo?"

"Just open the door," ordered Nathan, standing behind Josiah.

The clerk hurried to obey, mumbling about how improper this whole affair was. Josiah and the black man quickly moved into the office. Nathan shut the door with a sigh.

"We've got to be crazy, trying this," said Nathan, but he gestured toward the locked door. "Get that door open and stand back."

The clerk fumbled with his keys before he managed to get the door unlocked. Josiah moved him aside and Nathan opened the door a few inches.

"Vin?" he called. "Now don't you jump me when I open this door."

He opened the door the rest of the way. Seated opposite the door, his arms propped on his knees, Tanner squinted into the sudden light. He couldn't contain his smile as Nathan came into the room.

"Was wonderin' when you'd show up," he said, accepting a hand up. He held up his chained wrists. "Got something to get rid of these?"

"We've got a hammer and chisel, but they can wait. We've got to get you out of town first."

"Suits me fine."

He walked into the main office. Josiah's wolf-like smile caused the clerk to back up nervously. "Don't hurt me, "he said nervously. "I'm unarmed."

Josiah's smile widened, and he gestured toward the storeroom. "I won't hurt you," he promised. "You'll just have some time to contemplate your sins."

Still protesting, the young man backed into the storeroom. The former priest shut the door behind him and locked it, then turned to Nathan and Tanner.

"That might buy us some time," said Tanner. "Now what?"

"We've got the horses outside," Nathan said. "We'd better put some distance behind us before that bounty hunter gets back."

"What're we waiting for?"

Josiah opened the door and strode outside, casually looking around. The others followed, Tanner still playing the role of prisoner. While Tanner and Nathan moved to the horses, Josiah locked the ticket office door, then tossed the keys through the window. The three men mounted the horses and rode out at an easy pace, trying not to attract attention.

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The sun had nearly set when Thompson, having bathed and changed into clean clothes, decided to check on his prisoner before getting much-needed sleep. Few people were on the street, and no one paid him much attention. He walked up the steps to the train platform.

The ticket window was dark. Thompson looked around for a sign indicating when it would open again, then froze as he heard muffled shouting and thumping noises from inside the office. He drew his revolver and tried the door.

The knob didn't turn. Thompson rattled the door, then stepped back and smashed his foot into it just below the knob. The doorframe splintered and the door swung open. The storeroom door was secured, the keys on the floor near the center of the room. The bounty hunter turned the key and pulled the door open.

The skinny clerk stumbled out. "Thank God! I didn't think anyone would find me!" he gushed.

Thompson looked around. "Where is he?" he demanded. "Where's Tanner?"

"He's gone. Two vicious men broke in and took him away! I was lucky they didn't kill me!"

Thompson laughed cynically. "I guess I underestimated your friends, Mr. Tanner," he said. "And it won't happen again." Without another word to the clerk, he strode out of the office.

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Ezra made the final adjustments to his string tie as he strode into the dining room. Larabee and J.D. were seated at a table near the front windows, sipping coffee while waiting for their companions.

"Good morning, gentlemen," greeted the gambler, seating himself at the table. He looked up at the matronly woman approaching them. "Just coffee for now, please, Mrs. Goldman." She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. "Where's Mr. Wilson this morning?"

"Taking a walk around town," said J.D.

Mrs. Goldman returned with a cup for Ezra and a pot. She filled his cup, then topped off the others. Ezra stirred a generous helping of sugar, carefully sampled the hot liquid, and added more.

"So what do we do now?" asked J.D. "We've been here almost a week and we haven't found a thing."

"Perhaps we need to talk to the widow of the murdered man," Ezra suggested. "She may know something."

"That's the least of our problems," Larabee said quietly, idly tracing circles on the tablecloth with his finger.

J.D. and Ezra looked at him. "Vin and the others should have been here two days ago."

"Maybe they've been delayed," J.D. suggested.

The door opened and Buck walked in, carrying a newspaper under his arm. He saw them and moved to the able. He slumped into a chair, a smug expression on his face.

"I know why they haven't arrived," he declared. The others just looked at him. "Take a look at this." He held p the newspaper so the others could read the headlines.

"'Vin Tanner escapes,'" read J.D., amazement in his voice as he snatched the paper from Buck's hands. "'Tascosa's notorious killer escaped from custody in Bonito two days ago with the aid of two unknown accomplices. The killer was stolen away while waiting transportation back to Tascosa.'"

"And his whereabouts are unknown," finished Buck.

Larabee looked at his long-time friend, smiling himself. "I know where he is."

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"--so Ezra says to this guy, 'Judge Gordon Robert Lee? Cousin to the Robert E. Lee?'" laughed J.D. Josiah, Nathan, Buck, and Tanner stared at the young man, then looked at the gambler. "The subtle humor of the situation was lost on the poor clerk," explained Ezra.

"I'm sure it was," agreed Tanner.

J.D. looked at them. "Come on, guys, that was funny!" he exclaimed.

"It ain't funny, J.D.," said Buck.

"It wasn't meant to be." Ezra shuffled the cards and began dealing. "I only regret that you and Mr. Jackson did not take the time to notify us of your change in plans," he told Josiah. "We could have left that dreary town much earlier."

Josiah smiled. "We were a little busy," said Nathan. "We didn't know if that bounty hunter was going to be coming after us."

"It's good to be back." Tanner stretched out his legs and regarded his cards. "I see you're still cheating too," he added, tossing his cards back on the table. Ezra's response was a cold stare.

Larabee walked into the saloon, glancing around the comfortably familiar surroundings. He walked up the steps, to the raised floor area where, the six were playing cards and sat down, holding up apiece of paper.

"Just heard from the judge," he said.

"And?" asked Buck.

"He's glad to have us back. And he doesn't want to know what we were doing in Bonito. Or Texas."

"Well, that's a relief," said Ezra.

"What about that bounty hunter?" asked J.D.

"I don't think we've seen the last of him," said Tanner, taking a drink from the shot glass in front of him. Larabee took an envelope out of his duster pocket and handed it to him. "Mary gave this to me. It came care of her."

Tanner sat up straight and took the envelope. The writing on it was unfamiliar to him. He slid a finger under the flap to open it and pulled out a sheet of paper. He unfolded it, then tossed it on the table.

The wanted poster bore Tanner's familiar face. In one corner were the following words: "You got away this time. But keep looking over your shoulder. I won't give up. E.J. Thomas."

THE END

To be continued in "IT WAS A GOOD RIDE"