A/N: I was completely surprised when my Muse came back yesterday. I wrote... four thousand words, was it? Yeah, about that much, in ONE DAY. I haven't written that much at once since... last year, I think. And this was on the train. I astound myself. And you, my faithful readers, astound me more. Thanks for your support, ye few who were kind enough to review. Keep your fingers crossed that the muse continues to flow.

On a different note, when it's from Ezra's third-person POV, I will be referring to all new adults as Mr. or Mrs. so-and-so until they give Ezra permission to call them by their first names. I hope that makes it less confusing. Please feel free to let me know what you think! REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!

EDIT: miserichord was kind enough to point out that a mistake I'd made regarding Ezra's age. Just to clarify, Ezra is eleven, Billy is eight/nine, but because Ezra's small, everyone assumes he must be Billy's age. I hope that clears up any misunderstandings.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but myself. And, like, my Bob. At least in this chapter, anyway.

Altercations, Meetings and Realizations

As the door to the saloon swung gently shut behind him, Ezra took a moment to let his eyes adjust and take in the darkened room.

It was of average size for a saloon, with seven or eight tables scattered around room, chairs haphazardly tucked against them, a few poker tables, and the wooden bar top lined with worn barstools.

There was nothing to particularly differentiate it from any other saloon he'd entered, played and conned in through the years, and that, in and of itself, was comforting.

Something about the smoky, dark atmosphere, glasses chinking gently in the background, the muted voices of lunch time patrons (calmer in temperament than the rowdier crowds of the evening) sending waves of calming sound throughout the room… all of them contributed to create a soothing din that washed over Ezra gently, welcoming him like an old friend.

Recent… incidents should have dulled that pleasant feeling, but Ezra found, to his relief, that this only seemed to heighten those feelings. Apparently, his body was engrained to always think fondly of saloons and gambling; in a way, it was like coming home. When in doubt, find a saloon, or some such.

Funny how quickly he could forget the happenings of the past few weeks when faced with a familiar 'face' in an unfamiliar situation.

He must have made some kind of sound or motion, because Buck – Chris's friend with the big bushy moustache – looked down at him quizzically.

"You all right there, son?" he questioned as he gently steered Ezra towards one of the tables in the back.

Ezra, still caught up in the sudden wave of old emotions, gave him an absent nod and began to move more quickly towards one of the tables in the back corner, avoiding people, a server lady and jutting tables with an ease that spoke of long standing experience with such things.

Buck silently added this to the list of things he needed to ask Chris about. This kid was turning out to be quite the mystery. A cute one, undoubtedly, but a mystery nonetheless, and not one Buck was about to abandon any time soon.

He reached the table a few seconds before Buck, and Ezra chose the seat facing the rest of the room, providing him with a good view of the endless possible Marks.

Directly across from their table two men were having a good natured argument. They both appeared to be farmers, not ranchers; ranchers tended to tear their clothes in the line of duty, while the farmers, if a bit worn and dirt smudged, usually kept their clothes clean and intact.

Ezra instinctively crossed them off his mental list of Marks. He knew, on some level, that conning people and cheating with cards wasn't right, but he'd long since learned to ignore the twinges of his conscience at such times. Stealing from hard working farmers, however, who got little to no money as it was, was a bit too much. Some things just couldn't be justified, no matter how desperate he may be.

Rich business men, however…

Ezra carefully disguised a predatory grin as a yawn as he caught sight of a well dressed older gentleman.

Slightly on the overweight side with a neatly trimmed moustache, expensive suit and top hat, the gentleman was sitting at one of the nicer tables, a glass in hand and another man in front of him, no doubt his partner, or a client. They appeared to be deeply engrossed in their conversation, papers carelessly scattered around the table.

The perfect Mark.

Once their business was concluded, the older gentleman would no doubt invite the other man to dinner at the hotel to close the deal, after which he would bring him back to the saloon for drinks and cards and company.

Ah yes. The perfect Mark. He just had to take his time, come back later when Chris and the others were occupied with other things…

Oh. He'd forgotten about Buck.

Ezra quickly glanced up at Buck, trying to ascertain how long he'd been spaced out. Considering that Buck was preoccupied with the waitress (a dark haired woman of Spanish or Mexican decent) and not really getting anywhere in the process, Ezra figured that if he had noticed – which was doubtful – he probably wouldn't have cared anyway.

"What'cha wanna eat, kid?"

Ezra's eyes widened involuntarily. He's given me ah choice?

With difficulty, he managed to find his voice. "Ah… whateva sounds best, Mista' Wil- ah mean, Buck."

He fought to contain a flush when the pretty barmaid raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well all right, if yer sure. I may end up getting you something you don't like, though," Buck said with a good-natured grin.

"Buckk, you have not introduced me to your companion," the barmaid scolded. She crouched down, a hand still balancing a half-full tray, and smiled at him warmly. "It is not often such a gentleman like yourself comes to my humble saloon. It is an honour."

Ezra felt abashed that he'd mistaken her for a barmaid. The owner, serving drinks? Perhaps this wasn't the usual saloon after all…

"Now now, Inez, are you saying I ain't a gentleman? I come here a lot, you know, and I'd like to think I'm a decently gentle-like man," Buck interrupted with a confident leer.

"You, Mister Wilmington, would not know a gentlemen if he hit you in the face," Inez said scathingly. She gave Ezra another warm and said, "I am Inez. I hope to see you around more, Mister…?"

Ezra cleared his throat and gave her a hesitant smile. "Mah name is Ezra, Ezra Standish. It's a pleasha' to meet you, 'mam."

"Ah, so polite!" Inez exclaimed happily. She shook his hand gently and stood up, the glasses on the tray rattling dangerously for a moment. "I must go back to my duties now, but do come again, Mister Standish! Bring Mister Wilmington along only if he acts like a gentleman."

With that, she moved away in a swish of skirts, leaving Ezra a bit shell-shocked, and Buck with a dreamy smile on his face.

"Ahh, now that's a woman I could get to know better!"

Ezra let his leg fall back and hit the boardwalk with a dull thud. While not one to normally indulge in a childish act such as swinging one's legs, Ezra felt he deserved this one, if only for not giving into the urge to glare at Mister Wilmington.

The man had spent the past ten minutes flirting and generally making a fool of himself with some lady they'd run into while coming out of the saloon. Ten. Whole. Minutes. Ezra knew, because he'd been counting.

It was hot, his was already feeling grouchy, and Mister Wilmington just wouldn't shut up. So yes, he was entitled to a bit of sulky kicking.

The sound of someone coming up the board walk caused him to raise his head and temporarily halt his kicking. Upon seeing who it was, Ezra nearly sighed with relief.

Vin looked from Ezra to Buck with a knowing look on his face. Shaking his head in exasperation, he motioned to Ezra to follow him, and Ezra jumped to his feet gratefully and did just that, Buck not even noticing as he disappeared down the road with Mister Tanner.

"Buck git distracted again?" Vin asked sympathetically. Ezra, not wanting to rat on Mister Wilmington, shrugged, but gave Vin a look that indicated, Yes, Buck had been distracted.

Vin chuckled and ruffled Ezra's hair, which caused Ezra to yelp and hurriedly try to straighten it. Glaring at Vin did absolutely nothing, making him wonder if it would have been better to simply give into the urge to glare at Buck. Would have saved him the sore shins, in any case.

"So I thought I'd show ya around town a bit, introduce you ta some people. That sound good?" Vin asked after they'd been walking for a few minutes in comfortable silence.

Ezra glanced up and him and started to nod agreeably; something occurred to him mid nod, however, and he hesitated.

"Somethin' wrong?" Vin said, eyebrow raised in question.

Ezra gave him a mildly startled look, but hurriedly replied, "Oh no, it's nothing. Ah was just… wondering where ah'd be stayin', is all."

Vin nodded slowly, taking his hat off and twirling it with his fingers as he thought.

"I hadn' thought'a that. You kin probably stay with Mrs. Travis; she's a nice lady, has a kid 'bout yer age, and she'd be happy ta let ya stay."

Ezra hummed noncommittally, even as he gave a mental grimace. That would never do.

This Mrs. Travis, whoever she was, was probably the motherly type, and having her restricting his movements under the misguided belief that he was happy to allow her to take on the role of mother-figure would be terribly awkward, at best.

He would be forced to be the darling, sweet, model child, and after spending the better part of eight years playing the perfect little boy, he wasn't about to spend another minute pretending.

And for that matter, what if she didn't like him? It wouldn't be the first time. If this Travis woman didn't like him but were given even temporary custody of him anyway, no matter how nice Vin and Chris or even Nathan were, she could make his life completely miserable.

No, this would never do.

Making a split second decision, Ezra put on the charm full blast; then, turning, he aimed soulful and vulnerable eyes up at Vin - the very picture of innocence. It was a look he'd spent years perfecting.

"But Vin," he began, once he was certain his charm was working, evidenced by the softening of Vin's features, "Ah don't know this Mrs. Travis. What if she doesn't like me? Might ah just stay with you or Chris?"

It was always a gamble to lay on the charm like this. Some people were naturally immune to his charm, and occasionally, if he was really unlucky, they would even be able to see through it. Although there had only been a handful of people so far who could see through his act, the possibility was always there.

Something told Ezra that Chris would be one of those ones who would be immune, perhaps even able to see through it. Him he would have to tread carefully around.

Vin was a different matter entirely; everything about him practically screamed 'easy mark'. Though part of him felt a guilty about playing his rescuer and almost friend in any way, he felt it was a necessary evil, in this case.

Vin smiled gently and put a hand on his shoulder. Ezra resisted the instinctive urge to brush it off.

"Hows 'bout we go see Mary first, and if ya'd still prefer ta stay with one of us, we'll see what we can work out, 'kay? And don't you worry, Mrs. Travis'll love ya."

Mary Travis, then. Interesting.

Ezra nodded, not quite satisfied, but confident he could turn things his way should the situation require it.

The door to the small building chimed quietly as they entered, causing the pretty looking blonde, blue eyed woman sitting at her desk to quickly stand and walk over to them.

"Vin, what a pleasant surprise! I trust your trip was successful?" she said with a warm smile.

Vin tipped his hat at her in greeting, his mouth tilting upwards in an answering grin. "'llo Mary. Trip went well as can be expected, I s'pose; some unexpected things came up, but it's all good now."

Mrs. Travis looked intrigued. Vin shifted slightly, bringing the previously hidden Ezra into view, who had to fight a blush.

"Mary, Ezra. Ezra, Mrs. Travis."

Mrs. Travis bestowed him with a smile of her own as she crouched down to his level. He noted with some irritation that a lot of people seemed to be doing that lately. Nevertheless, he gave a polite bow of greeting, missing the look of amusement the adults shared over his head.

"A pleasha', Mrs. Travis," he said.

"Is Billy in, Mary?" Vin inquired as she ushered them towards the only available seats in the overcrowded room.

Stacks of paper, books, boxes and all manner of things lined shelves on the walls, filled the corners and covered furniture, giving the room a comfortably lived in feeling, if a bit crowded.

Mrs. Travis looked up from where she was unsuccessfully trying to clear the coffee table. "He's upstairs at the moment, I believe. Would Ezra like to meet him? It'll be nice for him to finally have a friend his age. The Potter children are darlings, really, but they're quite a bit older than him, and he sometimes finds it hard to relate to them and play their games. By the way, how long will you be staying, Ezra dear? Do you have family here, or are you just passing through?"

Ezra shifted his weight uncomfortably, unsure how to answer that. Thankfully, Vin answered for him: "That's somethin' I'd like ta talk with you 'bout, Mary, if that's all right. If you'd like, we can talk while the boys introduce themselves."

Ezra was gripped with a sudden feeling of panic. If Vin told Mrs. Travis what had happened to him, there was a very big chance word would get out, inadvertently or otherwise. In small towns like this, there was no such thing as secrets. If word got out… He might find him! And after all he'd done to get away! They needed to come up with a cover story, and fast!

Before he could gather enough of his wits to tell Vin this, Mrs. Travis was already introducing him to a boy about his age, and when he finally had the chance to open his mouth and call out, Vin and Mrs. Travis were gone, the door swinging gently, and he was left in the room with a scowling Billy Travis as his only company.

As it turned out, all that time spent worrying about Mrs. Travis had been wasted; apparently, he should have been worrying about the young Travis boy.

Billy seemed determined to cling to his bad mood, for reasons unknown to Ezra. It would no doubt be an exercise in futility to try to be friendly with him at this point, but he had to try. If he had to live in this town, being enemies with the only other kid his age would be unhelpful. Besides, Vin wouldn't be happy about it.

So taking a deep breath, he stuck his hand out, and in his politest, most approachable tone said, "Nice to meet you, ah'm Ezra."

The grouchy boy just looked at him. Then he had the nerve to say, in a terribly scornful voice, "Why do you talk so weird? Are you dumb or something?"

It took considerable effort not to jerk his hand back, and it was an even harder to fight the angry flush that threatened to color his face.

Instead he dropped his hand with forced casualness, shrugged, and said, "Funny. Ah could say the same of you."

Unlike Ezra, Billy wasn't capable of hiding the indignant blush that spread across his face at the implied insult. Ezra calmly ignored the boy's angry sputtering, feeling annoyed, a bit disappointed, and quite certain that nothing and no one could ever make him like Billy Travis.

Not if I can help it, anyway, he thought decisively, with just a hint of disgust. It would be disgraceful to waste his considerable intellect on one such as the Travis boy. One conversation and he could already feel his intelligence level falling dangerously.

This decided, he wandered over to Mrs. Travis's desk, determined to make the most of this time by learning what he could of the kind blonde woman. If what he'd seen of the room so far was any indication, Mrs. Travis was some kind of writer, maybe a reporter, if the stacks of newspapers were hers. A printer, perhaps?

Despite his earlier reservations, he was forced to conclude that should he be unable to stay with Vin or Chris, Mrs. Travis was probably the next best option. After all, even if she wasn't a reporter or writer or anything of the sort, she seemed like she would know something about the town and other such pertinent information that he would need when he got out of here. Yes, should it come to that, Mrs. Travis would be his choice. She would be a useful person to get to know, in any case.

The large desk sitting prominently in the right hand corner of the room was covered in various papers, pens and other writing materials. It had a look of carefully coordinated messiness, much like the rest of the room, and Ezra was struck by how much it fit what he knew of Mrs. Travis so far.

A bit untidy in a way that still seemed to imply that, though it would appear messy to the untrained eye, if something were needed, it could be located at a moment's notice. Ezra felt it suited Mrs. Travis, with her tumbling blond hair, bright eyes, ink-stained hands and pleasantly ruffled appearance.

An equally as large and just as prominent printer sat in another corner of the room. It had a well-used quality about it – not worn, just well used, and obviously a prized possession. Ezra, aware of how expensive such things were, could appreciate how well it was taken care of and what it must have cost to acquire. He walked over to it, giving it a slow once-over. A few trays of carefully arranged metal letters gleamed where the sunlight hit them, silver and black against the brown of the oak-wood shelf.

From where he stood, Ezra could see bits and pieces of words, not much, but enough to make out something that could have been 'news' and perhaps 'politics'. Hmmm… probably a printer, then, as he'd thought. Interesting.

He leaned closer, studying the kegs of ink, the stacks of paper, a box of assorted metal alphabet letters, the ink splatters, the giant machine with its many gears, wheels, uses...

So engrossed was he in his looking that he failed to hear Billy Travis coming up behind him until it was too late.

Billy gave him a shove, not hard enough to knock him over completely, but enough to make him stumble sideways and fall onto one leg. He banged his other leg against the press hard enough to bruise as he fell, and he suppressed a hiss of pain, covering his discomfiture by looking over his shoulder and glaring at the smirking boy, leaning against the press for support.

"That's my mama's press," Billy said pompously, "don't you go touchin' it."

There was a note of smug superiority in his tone that made Ezra's jaw clench, his hackles raised.

What right did this ignorant child have to order him around? As if he would have been stupid enough to actually touch the press. And even if he had, it's not like he would have broken anything. The same couldn't be said of the pathetic infant who probably wasn't even aware of the press's function.

Oh HOW he wanted to fight back, defend his honour, shout at the little upstart, teach him his place... But he couldn't do that; Vin would be cross, and Mrs. Travis would never agree to let him stay with her…

An evil little idea began to form in his head, and he let a small little smirk curve his lips. As he moved to get up, a small voice in the back of his head screamed at him that this is what Mother would want him to do, and since he hated that woman, what was the point in doing something that would make her proud?

Oh shut up, Ezra growled at it. Ah'm doing this for ME, no one else. Besides, he deserves it. With a small effort of Will, he snuffed out that small voice and went about putting his plan into action.

Straightening slowly, he turned to Billy completely and bared his teeth in a predatory snarl. "Now why should ah listen to you, little boy? Why eva' would ah stoop so low as to take advice from one who is mah inferior? Kindly run off and play with yore toys, and leave the important things to us grownups."

The said, he turned away and waited for the fall out.

As Ezra'd thought he would, Billy flushed bright red at this and gave him another push, this one harder than the last. Ezra let himself fall, allowing the momentum to push him towards the shelf that held the trays of letters. Just as he was about to hit the floor, instead of putting out his hands to stop his fall, he reached an arm out and knocked over the shelf. The trays fell with a resounding crash, the little letters scattering loudly every-which-way across the floor.

Again, as he'd predicted, this prompted Vin and Mrs. Travis to come back into the room, Mrs. Travis's face morphing into horrified dismay as she took in the mess. Vin's reaction was… a bit unexpected.

Instead of immediately coming to help Ezra up and demanding to know what happened, allowing Ezra to spin a sad story of rude and hurtful children, Vin took a moment to observe the situation first: his keen eyes took in Ezra's fallen form; Billy's flushed red face and clenched hands; the fallen shelf. Something like understanding crossed his face before his features turned stern.

"All righ', what happened here?"

Oh dear, not quite the reaction he'd been hoping for. After a quick mental check to ensure his features displayed an appropriate amount of shocked anger, Ezra pointed a finger and exclaimed, "Billy pushed me!"

He struggled to his feet, needing Vin's assistance to stand, and clutched his leg for dramatic effect. It did hurt, really, but not badly enough that he couldn't hide it. In this case, however, having an injury would be beneficial to proving his innocence.

He looked up at Vin, trying to show bewildered hurt. Vin's face became a bit less stern as he knelt in order to get a better look at his leg, his hands gently pushing up his trouser leg and checking for broken bones. In the next moment, however, he asked ( in a suspiciously mild fashion), "And why did'e do tha', Ezra?"

Damn.

Ezra hesitated. This wasn't good. He didn't want to lie, because it would be easy enough for Billy to discredit anything he might say, and they would be inclined to trust Billy's word over his, what with Mrs. Travis being his mom and all. But if he didn't say something, he would look just as guilty as if he'd told the truth. Decisions, decisions.

Before he could decide anything, however, Billy burst out with a hurried, "He was sayin' mean things to me!"

Oh good lawr'd. The little moron's going to completely ruin things.

He felt like saying, How astute of you, I'm surprised you managed to deduce that much at all, but resisted at the last second. That would not have been smart in the slightest.

He gave an indifferent shrug when Vin turned to him with an inquiring look. That mild look was still there, and it was beginning to make him nervous, not that he'd admit it. "He was being uncommonly rude. Ah was merely attempting to defend mahself against a numba' of grievous insults."

"That's-that's a lie!" Billy cried furiously. "He was sayin' stuff about... about mama! And he called me... he called me inferor!"

Ezra couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes at that one. Honestly, inferor? "And you called me 'dumb'. Ah'd say we're quite even now, don't you think? Though you did push me," he reminded Billy.

Mrs. Travis spoke up at this point, her voice slightly distressed. "Are you hurt, Ezra? Oh I wish you two hadn't fought! What have I told you about fighting, Billy Travis?"

Billy looked abashed, while Ezra had to fight a smirk of triumph. The urge to smirk faded, however, when he caught the look Vin was sending him. Calm, steady and nonthreatening, it still made him want to crawl on his knees and beg for forgiveness, maybe even add a confession or two. It was very intimidating, and Ezra had to look away after a moment.

Things really weren't going as planned.

Chris looked at his companion from across the table, amused. "This is starting to get a bit familiar, pard. What's wrong this time?" He took a sip of his drink and waited, content to be wait his friend out. Vin squinted up at him from under the rim of his hat, but said nothing.

"Oh common, Vin, something's obviously botherin' you. Is this about Ezra?" Vin nodded reluctantly, and Chris hmmm'd in understanding. "Is this about the guy that attacked you?" he asked again, trying to coax Vin into talking.

Vin shook his head and took a long gulp of his beer, before shrugging and saying succinctly, "He got inta' a fight with Billy Travis."

Chris choked on his whiskey mid-swallow, and collapsed into a coughing fit. When he'd recovered slightly, he asked hoarsely, "He what? Ezra?"

Vin just sighed and shook his head again. "I know, I couldn' believe it myself."

"How in Hell did this happen?" Chris exclaimed with considerable disbelief.

"Tha's the thing," Vin said wryly, "I haven' got a clue."

Chris waited for him to elaborate, but when Vin didn't continue, he prompted, "Because…?"

Vin stayed silent for another moment, then abruptly leaned forward and blurted out, "I jist can't figure 'im out! I keep gittin' the feeling that there's somethin' important I'm missin', but I just can't figure out what!" He fell heavily back into his chair at this, and commenced staring gloomily at the table top.

Chris gave a quiet chuckle and patted him on the shoulder comfortingly. "Why don't you tell me about it? Maybe I can help you out a bit."

Vin gave him a rundown of what had happened with Ezra that day, from when they exited the saloon till the end of the fight at Mary's.

"-And then I left 'im ta help clean up with Billy. I jist didn't know what else ta do," Vin finished helplessly.

Chris nodded slowly, looking pensive. They spent a long moment in silence, Vin blankly staring at his drink and Chris thoughtfully turning his empty glass over in his hand.

"I think we're going to have to keep a close eye on young Mr. Standish," Chris finally said, his face still thoughtful.

Vin looked up at him in surprise. "Whaddaya mean?"

Chris shot him a tolerantly amused look, and said, "You know what I mean. It's got to have occurred to you by now that he could have been playing you, am I right?" He waited for Vin's jerky nod of agreement before continuing, "I doubt he meant to be malicious about the whole thing, but with what he said about not wanting to be with Mary, it's completely possible he orchestrated the whole thing to ensure that he wouldn't have to go with her. I mean, you would have done the same thing, I think."

Vin looked even more surprised at this - though it turned out, for entirely the wrong reason: "Gosh, cowboy, since when did ya start usin' all them big words?" Ignoring Chris's glare, he added, "And I wouldn' have done somethin' like that! I jis would have asked!"

Chris's glare turned amused at that, and he amended, "Well, maybe not you. I know I would have, though. If I didn't want to stay with someone, what better way to make sure that happened than to pick of fight with that person's kid? There's no way the kid's parent would want to keep me after that."

They contemplated that for a moment, lapsing back into a thoughtful silence. It was Vin who broke it this time with a gusty sigh. "What should I do, then? Should I confront him 'bout it? What if I'm wrong, and it really was jist an accident or somethin'?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," Chris said unhelpfully. This time it was Vin's turn to glare.

"I talked to Buck and Josiah, and I'll speak with JD, once I find him," he continued, and Vin's glare swiftly faded.

"What'd they say?" Vin asked, feeling a bit concerned. If the others thought having Ezra here was dangerous for the town, they would have a serious problem.

"They agree that whoever this guy is, he's not going to stop till he gets Ezra back, and to Hell with whoever stands in the way. We can't leave Ezra on his own, that'd be as good as killing him ourselves. But until Ezra tells us what really happened, and why this guy is after him, we can't do anything to help him. He's need to talk, and soon."

Vin acknowledged this silently, though privately he wondered how that was going to happen. They hadn't had any luck so far, and who was to say that had changed at all?

"In the mean time, where are we going to keep him?" Chris was saying, oblivious to his companion's silent ponderings. "Mary's obviously out of the question."

Vin agreed, saying, "I'm sure Mary wouldn' mind, she's real forgivin' like that, but if we did, who knows what Ezra would do ta get away. I think we're gonna have ta keep him with us in the boardin'house."

"He could do worse," Chris said, shrugging. "We can protect him better the closer he is to us."

Vin nodded and got up then, stretching, muscles popping from sitting for so long. "We can talk 'bout this tonight. For now, I've gotta little gambler ta see to."

He drained the rest of his drink and headed out, tilting his hat at Inez in thanks for her service.

Time to deal with young Mister Standish.

A/N: I hope this chapter makes up for the time I spent not writing this year. Hope you enjoyed!