Chris didn't have the tracking skills of Vin Tanner, but he was an astute observer of men. Ezra had gotten up sometime before 4AM and ridden out in the dark, and the southerner had only slept a couple of hours the night before. He had to be damn tired, so Larabee would have bet his next month's pay that Standish had headed towards the nearest town with a hotel or boarding house…..and even better if there was a saloon or gambling hall there as well.
Chris had stopped after about 20 minutes on the south-heading trail and asked about such a place. It hadn't taken more than a few seconds to determine exactly where Ezra would be.
Larabee pulled into the dusty, little town called Fort Brown and immediately understood how it got its name. Everything was tan or dark gray or mud-colored: the buildings, the wagons, the horses, even the citizens. His black duster and horse stood out like a sore thumb. Guess that was why everyone turned to stare as he rode up to the hitching post outside the saloon. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the interior. There was only one other soul in the dingy establishment, except the bartender, and the lone guest provided the first spot of color Chris had seen since entering the small town.
"Mind if I sit down?" Larabee asked the tired-looking man with the red jacket.
"There appear to be plenty of unoccupied tables," the well-dressed fellow replied without looking up from his drink.
Chris pulled out the chair and sat anyway. He ordered a whiskey for himself but otherwise remained silent. It took a good five minutes, but the auburn-haired patron finally lifted his green eyes and gazed upon the blond man seated across from him. "Why, pray tell, did you follow me?"
"I didn't follow you; just happened to stop in the same, nasty saloon in the very same, dirty little town."
"I see," the southerner looked back down at his mostly untouched shot of whiskey, "how long do you plan on staying in this quaint municipality?"
Chris downed his shot and had to pause for a moment as the strong liquid burned his throat and gut. It felt wonderful to finally have a drink, and the quality was surprisingly good. "You see, I have this friend that I need to find and apologize."
"Really?" Ezra once again looked up. "Whatever for?"
"….for being so damn gullible," Larabee's green eyes turned ice cold.
Standish downed his drink, stood, left a coin on the table, and walked briskly out the door and to his awaiting horse. Chaucer was still saddled, and the gambler rode at a brisk gallop straight out of town. Chris followed but grew angrier and angrier with each passing minute.
"Are you going to follow me forever?" Ezra yelled at the approaching man- and horse-in-black.
"Get off of that damn horse!"
They had ridden about 15 minutes outside of town, and all that surrounded them was a dry desert-like landscape full of cactus and sage brush.
"Or what? You will shoot me, Mr. Larabee?"
"We're going to settle this one way or the other."
"I do not believe that we have anything to settle."
"Then you're an idiot. Get off of that fuckin' horse, Ezra," Chris dismounted and began approaching Standish and Chaucer.
"Fine," Ezra got down but backed a step or two away from the taller, irate man.
"Why did you lie to me?" Chris continued to walk closer to the conman.
"I never intentionally lied to you, sir."
"What the hell does that mean? Either you lied or you didn't…and you know you damn-well did. You promised me you would go back to Four Corners for a month, and you didn't even make it back!"
"See, there is where you are mistaken, sir. I did not lie. I said that I would stay for a month once we made it back to town. I simply chose not to go back to town."
"You're a real piece of work, you know that, Ezra."
"Why in God's name did you come after me?" Standish locked his green eyes with Larabee's. "Just to tell me that I ran out on you once again!"
A fist struck out instantly and knocked Ezra on his ass in the dirt. The now enraged southerner jumped up and plowed into the seven's leader. Both men fell to the ground and rolled over each other multiple times with fists, elbows, and knees flying. Chris stood and pulled Ezra to his feet as they rolled into a prickly pear cactus patch.
Ezra struck out like a snake and planted a hard left hook to Larabee's face.
Chris looked up from the ground where he sat, covering his right eye with his hand. "How many fuckin' times do I have to say that I don't want you to leave, Ezra?" Larabee stammered out between breaths while trying to get to his feet and brush as many cactus thorns out of his limbs as he could.
"You have a very unorthodox way of showing that to someone," Ezra got out while also breathing heavily and gingerly fingering his soon-to-be-bruised left cheek.
"You've known Buck for three years, and he never explained that to you?" Chris said, followed by, "shit, my face hurts."
Ezra snorted and handed Pony's reins to Larabee. "Let us go back to my room in the lovely municipality of Fort Mud and get cleaned up."
"If they got any clean water," Chris mounted while realizing that Ford Mud would indeed have been a more appropriate name for the town.
The two men hitched their horses at the, what else, Brown Hotel, but both stopped suddenly when they overheard a conversation between two men walking by on the boardwalk. One said, "yep, that's what he said when they stopped in town yesterday. Said he and his men were gonna get revenge on the Magnificent Seven and make sure they didn't have a town left to protect."
Chris and Ezra glanced back and forth at each other. Without a word spoken, Standish ran inside and grabbed his belongings, and he and Larabee hit the trail riding north as fast as Chaucer and Pony could ride.
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They heard the sound of gunshots before they could see Four Corners.
"Apparently we underestimated Mr. Holt's criminal propensities," Ezra remarked as he and Chris tied their horses up on the on backside of the town's buildings to the south.
"I should've shot 'em all when I had the chance."
"Lessons learned," Ezra walked forward with his Remington in his hand, "for both of us, Mr. Larabee."
Jake Holt was standing in the middle of the town holding one of their very own, JD Dunne, as a hostage. Chris and Ezra had no idea how they had gotten into this situation, but the 4 remaining peacekeepers in town were helplessly paralyzed. They couldn't do anything for fear that Holt would shoot the kid. Vin wasn't in his usual high position, and he and the others had already thrown their weapons to the ground in compliance with Holt's requests.
Chris and Ezra were across the street, behind Jake Holt, and out of sight. Larabee could easily shoot Holt, but he was hesitant to shoot even scum like him in the back. Chris was quickly brought out of his internal debate by the very loud sound of a gunshot. Holt fell to the ground, and Larabee bolted into action. He ran into the street, screaming to the other two thugs, "drop your weapons and put up your hands…..NOW….or join your friend in hell!" Vin and Buck had retrieved their guns as well by now, and the two underlings to Holt surrendered.
Chris put out a hand to JD, who was still kneeling in the middle of the street. "You ok, kid?"
Dunne looked at Chris then at Ezra and smiled, "I am now. Sorry I let Holt get a jump on me…"
"Don't worry about it, JD," Chris interrupted. "It's happened to all of us…."
"…at least once," Ezra grinned.
"…or twice," Vin finished and smiled as well. "Welcome back, boys."
"Thank you, Mr. Tanner. It is good to be back."
"Really?" Buck put a protective hand on JD's shoulder but looked at Ezra when he said, "you mean that?"
"Well, look what transpired today. How could I even think about leaving when you boys clearly need me here to protect you?"
Chris raised his eyebrows but couldn't stop himself from smiling.
"Can't argue with that," JD stuck out his hand towards Ezra, "thank you for savin' my life, Ezra."
Standish accepted the handshake, and replied, "you are most welcome, JD." Standish put away his gun, as Nathan and Buck surrounded the boy. Jackson was clearly chomping at the bit to force some rest and medicinal concoctions onto their youngest, who was still recovering from his bout of influenza.
Chris commented, "that was a nice shot….right to the back of Holt's head."
"Well, sir, I detest gambling, and as such leave nothing to chance."
"Right," Chris smirked, "a friend told me that once."
"Sounds like a smart friend," Ezra smiled back.
"He is, and he's the kind of friend who keeps his word."
"I see. Well, I guess I should go unpack and make myself comfortable then. When will I next be needed for my patrol shift, Mr. Larabee?"
A test. Chris tried not to laugh. "I think tomorrow would be just fine."
"How early tomorrow?"
"Ezra…"
"It is a simple question, Mr. Larabee."
"All right, tomorrow afternoon. How's that?"
"Sounds delightful. I will be in my room if you gentlemen need me."
"Good night, Ezra."
"Good night…my friends."
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"Where the heck are you boys goin'?" Nathan yelled from the clinic steps. He had gotten JD settled in one of the beds and placed two additional cots in the room, anticipating having four guests in his clinic tonight. He wanted to check out JD's, Ezra's and Chris' lungs after their battle with the flu. He needed to take a look at Vin's bullet wound, and he hadn't overlooked the bruises on both Chris and Ezra's faces.
Ezra hustled to get himself inside the boarding house, so as to pretend that he did not hear Nathan. Vin and Chris immediately turned and walked briskly towards the saloon.
"Damnit, Josiah. Stop them!" Nathan yelled as he barreled down the steps.
"I'm sorry, what did you say, Nathan?" Josiah smiled and yelled back.
"Tell them to get their butts up to my clinic," Nathan said as he finally made it back to the boardwalk next to the ex-preacher.
"They're ok, Brother Nate."
"Are you deaf and blind?"
"Why no, although I have noticed that my hearing isn't quite what it used to be…."
"Josiah!"
"Sorry…"
"Didn't you hear Ezra coughing earlier?"
"Well…."
"…or notice Chris' face?"
"Uh….."
"….or see the dirty bandage on Vin's arm?"
"Aw, Nathan…what would we ever do without you?" Josiah reassuringly patted Jackson's arm and headed towards the jail to check on the prisoners.
"What the hell does that mean? You gonna help me drag them up to the clinic or not? Josiah!"
Josiah hollered back, as he continued walking, "I'm still having a hard time making out what you're saying, Nathan. Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow for a hearing check. Good night!" The big man was still laughing when he entered the jail.
Nathan stood in the middle of the street, flabbergasted that all of his ill and/or injured associates besides JD were avoiding him. Just as the former Army stretcher-bearer started to head to the saloon to give Vin and Chris a piece of his mind, Ezra peeked out of the boarding house door. He was struck by a coughing fit just as he started to turn back to avoid the confrontation with Nathan. Jackson swung around immediately at the sound of the harsh, wet cough. The healer quickly charged the doorway and grabbed Standish by the left wrist.
"Ezra, get your butt up to my clinic," Nathan paused at the stricken look on the gambler's face, "please."
"Mr. Jackson, I assure you that I am fine," Ezra cleared his throat and said. "I was just thinking about grabbing a light supper and heading up to bed."
"Fine. Come with me over to the saloon, order what you want, and we'll take it up to the clinic. You can eat while I check you over." Ezra started to open his mouth to protest, and Jackson interrupted. "I don't wanna hear it; you have a relapse of the flu, and I you and I both will be sorry." Nathan shoved the smaller man in the direction of the saloon. Ezra sighed but otherwise remained quiet.
All eyes in the saloon immediately turned to the two arriving men, when Nathan Jackson said very loudly, "what in the hell do you two think you're doin'?"
"Eatin' some supper, what's it look like?" Vin looked up from his meal and answered also quite loudly.
Nathan walked over to the table that Tanner was sharing with Larabee and knocked Chris' shot glass, only filled a few seconds earlier, off the table. It shattered on the floor, and Larabee slowly raised his gaze to meet the brown eyes of Jackson.
"I know what you're gonna say," Chris spoke quietly, "that I shouldn't be drinkin', and that you've been waiting none-so-patiently for Vin, myself, and Ezra to show up at the clinic for damn-near an hour now." Nathan stood with his arms crossed, listening. "Well, Nathan, what can I say? I'm sorry, but it has been 26 days since I sat at this here table in this here saloon, and I aim to have a drink and soak it in for a few more minutes before you haul me off to jail."
"Jail!?"
"Now, Nathan," Vin tried to mediate, "Chris here is sore and grouchy and didn't mean that. I'll bring that stubborn cuss up to your fine clinic personally…once I'm done eatin'."
"….and yourself?"
"Yes sir, Nathan sir….and myself."
"Ungrateful bastards, all of…God damnit, Ezra!" Nathan watched Standish down a quick drink of whiskey straight from a bottle, as he picked up his food from Inez. He forcibly grabbed the southerner by his upper arm and pulled him across the floor, with Ezra trying to juggle his plate of food with the other hand.
"Woah there, Nathan," Buck backed out of the way, as Nathan and Ezra plowed out the batwing doors, "where's the fire?" No response from the dark-skinned man, and Ezra almost looked scared as he was pulled along behind Nathan. "OK there Nate, I'll be back in a jiff; just gonna grab me and JD some supper."
Once he was sure Nathan was well out of earshot, Buck asked, "what's got his drawers in a bunch?"
Chris had retrieved himself another glass and proceeded to drink two shots back-to-back. Vin gave the blond a sideways glance but didn't comment on Larabee's "supper." He said instead, "think Nate must have missed us somethin' terrible while we was gone. He wants us all to have a sleepover tonight up at the clinic."
Chris and Buck both chuckled, which turned into full laughter, and Vin joined in as well. Chris started coughing, and somehow that only served to make Vin and Buck laugh even harder. All of the pain and frustration of the last few weeks slowly drained out of the exhausted peacekeepers, as they wiped at their watering eyes.
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"Come on fellers," Vin finally stood and grabbed Larabee's arm. He pulled Chris to a standing position and shoved Buck out the batwing doors with his other hand. "Horse piss all around tonight."
"Nope," Buck smiled, as he balanced the two plates of food outside on the boardwalk, "ain't nothing wrong with me."
Vin immediately turned and slammed his right boot heel onto the area of Buck's left big toe and took off running, pulling Chris along with him.
"Son-of-a...!"
"Dang, I'll bet that hurts, Bucklin. I'll be sure and tell Nate to get some tea ready for you."
"God-damned, scrawny-assed Texan!"
"Come on in, boys," Nathan was holding the door open at the top of the stairs. "Buck, what the hell are you cussin' and limpin' about?"
Chris looked at Nathan and simply shrugged his shoulders. Larabee knew that he and the healer were going to have their hands full tonight, but he couldn't stop the smile that engulfed his face. The team was back together, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it stayed that way.
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After suppers had been eaten and Nathan had worn himself out chastising his friends for not taking good care of themselves in his absence, Ezra glanced around at the dark and quiet room. The healer had retreated to his own bed, as had Mr. Wilmington, leaving Standish, JD, Chris, and Vin on the two beds and two cots crammed into the small space of the clinic. The southerner was deathly tired and could not understand why his mind refused to let him sleep. He wasn't in pain, Nathan's tea had helped his cough tremendously, and the bed and pillow were soft and warm.
What Ezra's mind couldn't understand was why this man, who had spent his entire life looking over his shoulder and expecting the worst in people, was so comfortable. Standish had almost walked away this week. He had come within a hair's breadth of reverting back to that old, familiar lifestyle of trusting no one but himself. Ezra's brain was now forcing him to seriously consider how much he would have lost.
No matter how much he complained about Nathan's terrible-tasting concoctions and insistence that he rest and eat, no one in Ezra's life had ever cared enough to fret over him like that. Likewise, neither his mother nor other relatives would have put aside their pride and begged Standish to come home like Chris Larabee had done or put Ezra's health or problems above their own as Buck, Vin, JD, and Josiah had all demonstrated numerous times over the years. Ezra would never understand why these six men cared so much about him, but tonight he was finally able to drift off to sleep content in the knowledge that they do.
THE END!
Thank you for reading!