Disclaimer: The Magnificent Seven and characters are the property of MGM Television, The Mirsch Corporation, Trilogy Entertainment Group and CBS. No profit has been made off of this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 4

The cacophony of twisting metal, splintering wood, and the screams of terrified passengers rudely yanked Ezra from a deep sleep. Before he could make sense of the confusion around him his world became weightless for the span of a few heartbeats only to come crashing back to earth with all the pain and finality of hitting a brick wall.

Ezra came to awareness with a strangled gasp and the feeling of a solid heavy weight pressing down onto his chest. When his world came back into focus and the buzzing in his ears transformed into the keening cries of those injured around him he realized something horrific had occurred. Pre-dawn light and snow filtered in through the shattered windows above where his flight through the air had ended. Drawing in a ragged breath, Ezra raised his head and looked down at his chest only to find the sightless eyes of a fellow passenger staring back at him. Yelping in fear he scrambled desperately to rid himself of the lax body pinning him to the side of the train. Swallowing deeply once he'd freed himself he turned back to look at the poor soul who'd lost his life. "I hope it was a quick and painless death, my friend," Ezra whispered quietly as he reached out a shaking hand to close the sightless eyes.

He realized he had a shallow gash and blood was running freely from his palm. Digging into his pocket for his linen handkerchief he gritted his teeth as he secured it over the wound as best he could. It would have to do.

Hissing in pain as glass shards tugged at his clothing he got to his feet and squinted into the semi-darkness. Where's Chris? Ridding his hair of debris as he carefully picked his way through the wreckage he came across a woman sobbing hysterically as she rocked back and forth cradling her mangled arm. With alarm Ezra realized blood was pooling in her lap. He spied a carpetbag lying nearby. Digging through it frantically he found some relatively clean clothing. As he tore the fabric into strips he tried to calm the woman. "Ma'am it's going to be all right. I'm going to get you out of here. My name's Ezra and I'm glad to make your acquaintance Ms.-"

The woman quieted as Ezra's voice penetrated her sobbing. Sniffling she looked up at him. "My name's Anne Thomas. Do you really think we're going to get out of here?"

With gentle hands he took her battered arm and started binding her wounds. He plastered on his gold-toothed smile as he realized she was missing two fingers. Hoping to keep her attention focused on him he replied, "We will be getting out of here because I have an appointment to keep and I don't plan on missing it." Once he tied off the bandage he grabbed a blanket, shook it out, and settled it about her shoulders. "Have you seen anyone else moving around?"

She nodded and wiped at her nose with the blanket. "Those that could walk went out that way," she pointed to the other end of the car, "Some said they would bring help."

Looking toward the murky darkness that encompassed the other end of the car Ezra replied, "I shall be right back. If you should have need of me you only need to call. I won't be far."

Ms. Thomas nodded and pulled the blanket tighter about her as she watched him move further down the aisle.

Pushing his way past another broken berth he found two men who'd met an unseemly end. One unfortunate soul had been apparently skewered and appeared to have passed recently, if the warmth of his skin was any indication. Probably the man who was screaming. The other man had broken his neck and Ezra counted himself lucky for not having fallen to a similar fate. "Damn it, Chris! Where are you?" he shouted as he dropped down to look into a dark corner.

Nothing.

"Over here," a voice called weakly from somewhere near.

Spinning on his knee and squinting into the darkness Ezra took a step forward. The car had begun to brighten and he could now make out a shape propped in the corner. It was not light enough to distinguish any of the person's features. Crossing his fingers, Ezra rushed toward the person and praying all the while he'd found his friend.

"Chris is that you? How did you get to this end of the car?" Ezra asked as he dropped to his knees and reached out a trembling hand to figure before him. Leaning closer Ezra could see blood flowing freely from a gash on Chris's temple and jumped as a blood slicked hand grasped his wrist in a crushing grip.

"Broken," was all Chris ground out between clenched teeth as he shivered in pain, his ashen complexion looking all the worse in the pale, early morning light.

"Wha-what's broken Chris?"

"My leg."

"Are you sure? Maybe you just twisted it badly."

Coughing harshly, Chris moaned, "I'm sure. I don't think I've ever hurt this bad before."

Pulling his wrist from Chris's grasp Ezra dropped back onto his haunches. "So much for an uneventful trip."

"Are you all right?" Chris peered blearily at Ezra looking for obvious wounds. Thankful the man seemed alive and whole.

Looking down at himself, Ezra smirked. "It appears that I have somehow escaped serious injury. I have some bumps, bruises and I must have cut my hand at some point. But for the most part I'm unscathed. It's a good thing considering the trouble you've landed in. Nathan would have a field day with you."

"Don't make me laugh. It hurts too much."

Shaking his head Ezra sighed, "I wish Nathan were here. He is much better equipped to handle these situations."

"He's not here. It's you and me."

"I realize that but I'm hesitant to try and set your leg. I should try and find a doctor."

Moving his hand from his side Chris looked down at his blood covered fingers and closed his eyes. Holding his hand up to show Ezra, he bit out, "I don't think I have that long."

Watching as the blood ran in rivulets down Chris's hand to his wrist in morbid fascination Ezra leaned forward to look at the wound. Biting his lip to keep from cursing Ezra lifted the saturated fabric away from the ugly, seeping gash that was just below Chris's ribcage. He was afraid to touch it knowing it would cause his friend even more pain and the almost constant tremors racking the lean frame told him it was excruciating.

Standing quickly, Ezra glanced around the immediate area looking for something to use to bind the wounds until they could be taken care of properly. Seething in frustration when he couldn't find anything clean enough to use he called out, "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

"Wasn't plannin' on it."

As Ezra hurried through the car digging through scattered carpet bags and gathering up the cleanest linens he could find he stumbled across their own possessions. With a quick thank you sent up to Lady Luck he collected Ms. Thomas and returned to Chris's side.

"Ms. Thomas, this is Chris Larabee. Chris this is Ms. Thomas," Ezra made the proper introductions as he carefully set down his finds.

Chris nodded at the woman before turning his attention to the carpet bag Ezra had set down near him. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Ah, yes it is and you are in luck because," Ezra dug around in the bag pulling out a full bottle of Rye, "our spirits have remained intact. Now take a bracing drink and I'll set about putting you back together so we may figure a way out of this mess."

Chris reached for the bottle Ezra had opened and took three healthy chugs before Ezra pulled it away. "Thanks, I needed that."

"Don't think on it. I am, of course, keeping tally of all the inconveniences during our little sojourn." Ezra crept closer as he soaked a pad of cloth in Rye and placed it over the gash. Grimacing as Chris jerked and hissed he tuned back to his carpet bag and pulled out a sewing kit.

Cleaning the wound as best he could, Ezra threaded the needle and took a quick swig of whiskey, grimacing as it burnt all the way down.

Watching as Ezra drizzled the liquor over the needle and thread, Chris asked, "You ever sew someone up before?"

"Do you wish to do this yourself?" Ezra asked as pulled the saturated pad from the wound and looked at the ragged tear. Setting the pad back in place as he stared at the little snow piles growing on anything lying flat, Ezra smiled. "I may not be as practiced as Nathan but even I know snow will numb the flesh. Oh!" standing swiftly, he gathered up some snow in his cupped hands, "As luck would have it we appear have an abundance of it."

Shaking his head, Chris sucked in a ragged breath, "Just make it quick."

Nodding in agreement, Ezra placed snow in a linen square and held it to the wound and after waiting several moments he pulled it away.

Piercing the over sensitized flesh with the needle, Ezra took a steadying breath. This is nothing close to mending a shirt. If you were not my friend you would be out of luck.

Breathing slowly through his mouth Ezra fought to control his stomach as he felt the needle and thread tugging at the skin. Looking up he noticed Chris's pale complexion. "Let me know if you feel as if you're going to be sick."

"I'm not going to be sick," Chris growled as he opened his eyes to glare at the gambler.

Ezra sighed in relief as he was able to tie off the last stitch. Carefully inspecting his handiwork he smirked, "It may not be as pretty as Nathan's but at least the stitches are neat."

Chris bit back a grunt of pain as he sat up so Ezra could wrap the wound in his mid-section properly. Once Ezra was done Chris sank back against the wall of the train which happened to have been the floor when the train was in its natural position.

"Someone's coming, Mr. Standish," Anne announced excitedly as she stood to look around the seats. "I can hear them, they're right outside."

Pulling his gunbelt from the carpetbag Ezra hastened to strap it on. "Ms. Thomas, please lower your voice. We do not yet know if they are friend or foe."

"Who else could it be? They are probably checking the cars for survivors as we speak."

"You can never be too careful. We don't even know why the train derailed. Someone could have done it deliberately for all we know. There are nefarious individuals who specialize in this sort of endeavor."

"No. I refuse to believe that. I just want to get back home and end this terrible nightmare." She stumbled past Ezra and Chris toward the voices. She called out, "Hello! Hello, we're here!"

"Ms. Thomas!" Ezra hissed as he rose to his full height. "Please. Be patient and as soon as I finish tending Mr. Larabee's wounds I will scout the area."

"You better hope whoever coming is friendly because she's just let everyone know where we are," Chris gritted out as he wiped at the blood that trickled from the cut in his scalp.

Rolling his eyes at Chris, Ezra huffed, "I am perfectly aware of that. Did you not hear me tell her?"

"Well go on and stop her."

"It wouldn't do any good. They're here."

A man with a scrubby beard and dark unruly hair stuck his head through the window above. "Howdy there, Miss. We've been checking for survivors. Is there anyone else with you?"

"Yes there are two men, one is injured. The others are either gone or dead."

"We'll get you out in two shakes of a lamb's tail. I'll be right back."

Ezra watched in silence as the man disappeared once more and Ms. Thomas haltingly made her way back over to them.

"He's bringing assistance," she replied as she sank back onto the floor and cradled her injured hand. "I'm a little dizzy. I think I'll sit here until they return."

"Yes. You do that," Ezra sighed as he knelt down next to Chris and looked at his scalp. "If you would stop touching this it would probably stop bleeding on its own. I'm going to wrap it for now and see what happens."

"Well don't talk about it. Wrap it up." Chris grabbed the bottle and took another large gulp.

Snatching the bottle back Ezra growled, "Don't drink it all. I need some of this for the wound."

Ezra soaked another piece of cloth in the whiskey and dabbed at the wound.

"Ouch!" Chris snapped pulling away from Ezra's firm touch. "You did that on purpose!"

"The cut was filthy," Ezra explained as he prepared the bandage, "and you don't want it to putrefy."

A loud crash behind them had Ezra jumping and turning around with his gun drawn. The man he'd seen earlier slowly stood with his hands in the air.

"I don't mean any harm. I came to help get ya'll out of the train. Should be some wagons showing up in a few hours and we'll take you to town."

Looking the man over and deciding he didn't appear to be too much of a threat Ezra lowered his gun. "My friend has a broken leg. Could you find something I could use as a splint or perhaps find me a doctor?"

The man scratched at his beard. "I can find you some splints but the doctor is out with the injured and dying."

"All right, we can wait here until your return. I'll assist you with getting Ms. Thomas out of the train and you can come back with the splints."

"Sounds like a good idea to me."

Come along, Ms. Thomas," Ezra coaxed as he took her good arm and helped her from the floor, "you're rescue is at hand."