Part 2

The bat-wing doors banged open announcing the arrival of Mr. Macklin, owner of the mercantile. He was a large man with a fringe of white hair and brown eyes that fought for their place above fleshy cheeks. Macklin paused at the entrance. He scanned the sea of bodies that moved about the smoke-filled room, with furious intent. No one seemed to pay any attention to his abrupt entrance, except seven men who were instantly alert for any trouble.

Macklin glanced over at JD then stepped off the landing, the floorboards creaking under his weight. "Sheriff, arrest that man!" He suddenly yelled, pointing at Ezra's table.

The outburst brought the saloon's musical score to its finale as silence abruptly filled the room.

"Arrest who?" JD asked, stepping up alongside the annoying merchant and searching the bar room for some elusive perpetrator.

"Standish!" Macklin huffed, rolling his eyes at the inexperienced sheriff. Macklin folded his arms across his chest in self-righteousness.

JD blinked and looked over at Chris and the others, seeing the same bewildered, yet amused expressions.

"Why?" JD innocently asked.

"He stole the funds for the McCray family's new roof," Macklin accused. "I knew him being a lawman was nothing but a con. He was just biding his time waiting until our guard was down."

Macklin glared at the smug cardsharp's back. He had hoped that after Standish's thirty days, the urbane gambler would have moved on to greener pastures and that the others would have soon followed, but as the weeks and then months went by it appeared more and more that the seven gunslingers were here to stay. Macklin had a problem with gunslingers as law enforcement and especially with a black man and a wanted man holding such prestigious positions, but Jackson was a competent healer, and Tanner and Wilmington were good friends of Larabee, so many of the town's folk accepted them.

Ezra remained seated and sipped at his whiskey, avoiding eye contact with the men at his table. Macklin had always been the most vocal detractor of his position as a lawman.

"What the hell are you talkin' 'bout, Macklin?" Buck called out from his spot against the bar. He gently released his hold on the young barmaid allowing her to move behind the bar. He didn't think there'd be any gunplay but you can never be so sure. Right now it looked like Ezra would love to pull his pea shooter and shoot the maligning store owner.

"I'm saying the money is gone, stolen! And we all know he's capable of stealing," Macklin sneered.

Ezra winced; most of the town had discovered his momentary lapse of judgment when he almost ran off with the ten-thousand dollars used to buy a hit man to kill Mrs. Travis. He thought he had redeemed himself by saving her life.

Chris glared at the pompous man. He didn't like anyone coming in and badmouthing someone in public, and especially not one of his men. Ezra had made some mistakes, but he had more than made up for them during the past six months of putting his life on the line protecting the town.

"You got proof of this theft?" Chris asked slowly rising from his chair, his earlier good-mood dissolving under the merchant's allegation.

Macklin ran a thick tongue over dry lips as Larabee's intimidating presence swallowed some of his bravado. His eyes searched the room seeing many of the patrons listening intently; this helped to harden his resolve.

"Ms. Newton saw Standish this morning near the donation box outside my store. There was one-hundred and thirty dollars in there and the lock was picked just as pretty as you please." Murmurs instantly wafted across the room until Chris laid his hand on his gun.

Ezra took a sip of his drink deciding to remain silent. He had gone to the stables early this morning to retrieve a book he had left in his saddlebag. He pressed his lips together and clenched the glass hard, that he was unable perform even a small task without being accused of a crime was starting to whittle away at his seemingly endless tolerance.

"How you know how much money was taken?" Vin asked, noticing the tension in his gambling friend's countenance.

"I had opened the box to take out the contributions to deposit them in the bank when Mr. Stanley asked me to breakfast, so I left the money after I counted it." Macklin glared hard at Standish's back. "And I made sure it was locked tight!" He emphasized, returning his attention to the darkly dressed gunslinger. "After breakfast, I found the box open and the money gone. Ms. Newton told me awhile ago that she saw Standish near the box early this morning."

"Hell, that box is on a public walkway. Anyone coulda taken it," Buck countered. "You could of taken it."

Macklin's face turned red. "I've never stolen in my life and anyway I was with Mr. Stanley the whole morning, he can vouch for me. He saw the money too and was with me when I went back to retrieve it."

"Ezra don't need to steal," JD vehemently added.

Chris glanced over at the gambler who sat motionless and silent, his jaw clenched. To most people the cardsharp looked unconcerned, but Chris had learned a little about the aloof man. He knew these accusations struck as deep as any bullet and did far more damage.

Ezra could feel the silent accusations. The doubts being expressed by the townspeople throughout the room, sparked old insecurities to flare to life, and he had to shake away the thoughts that the other lawmen might believe Macklin.

"You can't tell me that a dollar a dayand what he makes gambling is enough to buy them fancy duds of his." Macklin started to talk to the whole room as if Ezra was on trial. "Larabee won't let him ply his trade," Macklin sneered as he turned in the center of the room. "He can't cheat god-fearing folk. What other way is there for him than to steal? You all have seen that fancy saddle, fine handkerchiefs and expensive whiskey he flaunts."

Macklin smiled as heads nodded in agreement. The cardsharp did seem to live well; there was no denying that.

"I demand that you search him!"

"That won't prove a thing, Ezra always has cash on 'im," Nathan defended.

Ezra smiled faintly. It was rare that the humanitarian healer defended him. They had both come a long way, from pasts that contradicted any possible friendship to the constant conflict of how each man approached life, but somehow, a friendship continued to struggle between the two men.

Ezra took a deep breath and pushed his chair back. He gracefully stood, smoothing out his jacket as he turned to face his accuser. He glanced around the room noticing the subtle and blatant expressions of doubt and belief on the faces of the people he was sworn to protect; people who had come to mean more to him then he ever thought possible.

"Mr. Macklin." Ezra's voice took on a decidedly icy tone, but his face remained unemotional. "I did not purloin any funds, and I see no reason to remain and listen to this verbal attack on my person. Good-day, sir."

Ezra tipped his hat and walked up the stairs toward his room without a look back. Vin bowed his head to hide his grin. The man had grit.

"Aren't you going to stop him?" Macklin turned to JD.

"Nope." JD turned away from the shop keep and headed out to check on the prisoners and maybe bring them lunch.

Macklin's face turned vivid red as he blustered. "This is madness, to let a known conman and coward walk among decent folk."

"ENOUGH!" Chris shouted, holding his fists at his sides. Ezra may be able to ignore these allegations, but he had enough of the pompus man.

"Mr. Macklin, I suggest you calm down," Josiah intervened before someone did something they'd all regret. "We'll find the money."

You're all protectin' 'im," Macklin charged.

The five remaining lawmen stepped as one toward the store keep. "I believe you're oversteppin' your bounds, Macklin," Chris growled. "Now go back to your store and we'll find the money."

Macklin guffawed and stormed out of the saloon. Chris shook his head and looked around the room; the damage was done. Damn, Ezra didn't deserve this; he was trying hard to change his image. Why wouldn't these people give him a chance? Then again, it took a long time before Chris even trusted him.

Buck sidled up alongside his long-time friend and looked across the saloon. "Ah, hell, Chris, Ez don't deserve this."

Chris chuckled at his friend's similar thoughts. "I know, Buck, but sometimes a man's past is hard to shake."

"And even harder to live with," Josiah added as he stepped up in front of the two men.

"What are we going to do?" Vin asked as he approached the lawmen.

"We're going to find that money," Chris confidently stated.

tbc