*****Part 12

Standish paced the boardwalk between the saloon and the mercantile, allowing his thoughts to roll over the past couple days, even the energetic din emitting from the saloon didn't distract him. Several towns' folk passed by, eyeing him curiously then continued on their way.

It had been over an hour since he left Nathan and darkness now shrouded the town. The street lamps threw out small flickering balls of light up and down the street. He was waiting for JD to return from patrol. He hoped he was wrong at what was adding up in his head, but he didn't think so. It was too much of a coincidence. How would a young soldier get hold of a ring off a dead woman? Was the Army trying to lay the blame on the Indians so that they could be sent to a reservation? Ezra knew that Indians were being forced onto reservations all over the country, but normally only when they were on land that settlers wanted, and then the government would just force them to relocate, offering them inferior land for their prime real estate. Ezra huffed; and people accused him of devious deeds.

The residents of Four Corners had an unofficial accord with the nearby Cheyenne tribe, promising them sanctuary. With Judge Travis' help, the seven lawmen were determined to up hold that. Ezra froze as some of the pieces fell into place. Someone wanted the Indian's land, and was using the Army to perpetrate the pretense of wild renegades.

Standish's fists clenched. He wondered if the commander was involved in any way. The ring was the first bit of evidence, and he was sure it would help reveal the truth. Ezra smiled assured that when Larabee and Tanner had a little talk with Private Croninger the Indians would be vindicated.

Ezra stepped off the boardwalk to wait at the jail for the patrolling easterner. He would retrieve the ring, and then inform Mr. Larabee of his belief. Ezra paused as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a shadowy figure ducking back into the alley. He was being watched.

Ezra turned away from the jail and casually strolled into the saloon, dashing up the stairs inside. He nimbly stepped out the second story window and walked across the slanted roof. The sure-footed southerner made his way to the backside of the building and shimmied down the support post. He then activated his derringer and crept silently up the alleyway. He could just make out the darkened silhouette of someone hiding behind several barrels.

"Excuse me," Ezra hissed laying his gun alongside the spying man's face and grasping his shoulder. "But why do you feel the necessity to watch my person?"

The man turned his head slowly around, and Ezra recognized young Private Croninger. This further confirmed his belief.

"Listen mister, I made a terrible mistake, and I need that ring back." Roland had almost wet himself when the gambler had come up behind him. Jimbo had left him here to keep an eye on the southerner, until he returned.

Ezra arched a sandy eyebrow; his gun still aimed at the Private's head. "Sir, I'm not in the business of returning winnings."

"Ah, I know, but I never should 'ave offered it. It sorta has senti…a…senti..," Roland's brow furrowed, searching for the word.

"Sentimental value," Ezra aided.

"Yeah, and my ma would be real unhappy with me for giving it up," Roland lied.

"Really? You know Mr. and Mrs. Schorr's bodies were brought in earlier. They had recently died a most violent and vile death. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that?" Ezra calmly asked. The thought that this young man had anything to do with their deaths and Mrs. Schorr's mutilation sickened him.

The young man's eyes widen. Oh shit, he knew, flashed through Roland's mind and showed on his face.

Ezra felt the young soldier tense under his grasp and knew that he had hit the nail on the head. "I believe my associates would like to discuss where you really got that ring." He brusquely pulled the young man out from behind the barrels, intent on taking him to the jail. Ezra heard the scuffle of feet behind him-too late. A gun butt smashed into his skull and he crumbled bonelessly to the ground.

"It's about time you got back," Roland nervously snarled as Hutchins and Mayes appeared.

"Quit your belly-achin!" Hutchins bit back. "We wouldn't be going through all this shit if'n you weren't so stupid..."

"Enough," Jimbo hissed out, looking over his shoulder to make sure they weren't attracting any unwanted attention. "Check his jacket. We searched his room and didn't find the ring."

Roland knelt down and struggled to remove the fancy blue coat. He then hurriedly went through the pockets and feeling around the lining. Roland smiled as he pulled out a wad of money, which Jimbo promptly plucked out of his fingers.

"Consider it payment for your stupidity," Jimbo snarled.

The Private glared back at the Sergeant then continued his search. He pulled out an envelope addressed to a Maude Standish and a deck of cards. "Nothing, he ain't carryin' it." Roland threw the jacket into the corner of the alley in disgust. "He musta pawned it already."

"Well, I guess we're going to have a little talk with 'im just to make sure." Jimbo holstered his gun and easily picked up the unconscious conman, throwing him like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. "Let's git out of here."

tbc