A/N: Thank you tellygirl! I am very happy you're enjoying this! :) Ah, I felt sorry for the cowboys as well. :p
As for Ezra, well, the worst is yet to come, so do brace yourselves.
Maude would no doubt translate her love for her son as a need to protect him. She protect him with her own experience of what she considers a cynical and jaded world. She would believe it her duty as Ezra's mother to make sure he is safe, unhurt, and the best at what he does. And she would do that by raising him how she was raised, which is my personal interpretation of Maude's personality explanation.
And this, my friends, is what happens when she thinks she is doing the best she can.
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m7m7m7m7m7m7m7m7m7m7
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"Six years old, and already so handsome!" gushed Mr. Farren. He gave Ezra a pat on the shoulder.
Maude smiled at him demurely. "Of course, Mr. Farren, he's my son," she said. "Where are you going?"
"The restaurant," said Mr. Farren.
"Why, we were just on our way over there now," Maude exclaimed. "Perhaps you could escort me?"
Mr. Farren only hesitated a moment before grasping Maude's extended hand. "My pleasure," he smiled.
"Come along Ezra," Maude said, holding out her other hand. When Ezra took it, they walked to the restaurant.
A course or two later, Maude was sadly telling her new friend about how her husband had been taken by fever, and about how she and her son had to make ends meet in his old investment business. He fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. The next thing she knew, he was agreeing to assist her by investing a considerable sum.
Ezra's job was simple: keep him distracted, so Maude could drag out the whole story, milking him for all the money he was worth, until she had to break the news to him that he'd lose all his money because one of her agents was dirty and stole all of their money.
Oh, Ezra was good at it, no doubt. He asked the man endless questions, he begged for stories, he asked if they could go fishing, he followed him around like a lost dog claiming he wanted to "help"... he was a natural. Maude was definitely proud of her son. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as she'd thought. Maybe he would be a natural at even the more hard-hearted aspects of a con.
Days later, when it was time to break the news, Maude knew this would be a real test of what little Ezra was made of. This was the part of a con that Patrick had blatantly refused to do, the part where you prepared to shoot someone's dreams down.
"Now, sit down, Ezra." Maude said to her son, motioning him into a chair across from her in their hotel room. When he complied, she began, "Alright. Now, the next step in the con, is to prepare him for the fall. Instill worry into him. You remember Mr. Davids?"
Ezra nodded. Mr. Davids was a man Maude was splitting the loot with, as long as he posed as her dirty agent- a fellow con man.
"Well, Mr. Davids' part in the scheme relies on Mr. Farren believing that he is really a gang member. Of course, he isn't, so we'll need to improvise, and to accomplish that we'll need you, Ezra."
"What do I need to do, Mother?"
"You are aware that Mr. Ferrand always carries a watch." Maude said.
"Yes, I am," Ezra replied in some trepidation, clearly not liking where this was headed.
"Mr. Ferrand will need to believe that one of Mr. David's men stole it. And since Mr. Davids is really without a gang, you'll need to be the one who steals it." Maude explained.
"No."
Maude froze, for a fraction of a second. "Excuse me?"
"I said no, Mother."
"Why in the world not?" Maude demanded, even though she was fairly certain she knew why.
"Didn't you hear about that watch?" Ezra asked of his mother.
She had, in fact, heard. On one of Ezra's missions to distract, the story he'd asked for was told about Mr. Ferrand's father, a brave and noble man, killed unjustly when Mr. Ferrand was thirteen. Since then, he had carried his father's watch in his memory, and because it was a reminder of things that were never meant to be. It was the only thing of his father's that he had, the only thing that kept the memory alive. It was a sad story. There wasn't any way Ezra would be happy about this, but he had to at least do it, whether he liked it or not.
"Of course I did, darlin', but it isn't worth much," Maude said, in feigned obliviousness.
"In money, no, but in memories, it's priceless."
Maude would have choked if she hadn't had a job to do. 'In memories it's priceless?' Good Lord! There was no way Ezra Standish was going to go around saying things like that! He was supposed to be a con man, for pete's sake, not a preacher.
"Now, you listen to me, Ezra Standish," Maude said firmly. "You ask me why I don't take you with me. This is exactly why. This entire con hinges upon you, Ezra, and now you are failing me, as well as Mr. Davids. Now, are you in, or aren't you? If you are not, I believe your uncle William could use an extra boy to help out with the chores around the plantation to earn his keep."
Ezra's face blanched at the mention of Uncle William. For some reason, and Maude couldn't figure out why, Ezra really hated the man, and would do anything to stay away from him. This meant, of course, that she was practically blackmailing her six-year-old son, but still- it was all for his own good. That's what she'd decided. It was all for his own good, that's what she'd informed all her feelings, and then she'd promptly exercised her talent in detachment and, emotionally anyway, left the situation. If there was any talent she was glad her father had taught her, it was that one.
Ezra stared up at her for all of ten seconds. Then, slowly, he nodded.
She smiled. "That's my boy. Now, here's how I want you to do it…"
Two days later, Ezra stood next to a graveside, face studiously blank as his Mother had taught him, even though he couldn't prevent tears from escaping down his too-empty expression. Maude stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder. She didn't know if that helped him out or not. Ezra had broken one of the most important rules in his trade- he'd become emotionally invested in the mark, and look where that got him? Here, at the funeral of a man who apparently lost everything he owned (how was she supposed to know he was only pretending to be stinking rich?) and had taken his own life as a result. And, for pete's sake, she felt a little guilty too. She needed to get Ezra hardened up a bit before he turned the both of them soft.
But first, she needed money- a lot more money, because she was going to try an entirely new con, without Ezra's help; give him a chance to get over what was no doubt anger against her for this mess.
Yes, she would take Ezra with her to earn some money- enough to get the stake on the highest poker games in the country, and leave the tables with everything available.
She'd leave Ezra with… someone… not William, but someone, and come back for him when the new con was over.
It was always good to have a plan, even if an always-ignored voice in your head told you it was full of holes.
