"Get up, Boy!" The harsh voice invading Ezra's sleep was accompanied by a boot in the ribs. It wasn't hard enough to be counted as a kick, but it was harder than a tap, and a decidedly unpleasant way to wake up. After nearly four months Ezra thought he should have been used to the abrupt wake-up call, but the truth was there was no way to get used to it. There was really no way to get used to anything Martin Standish did. Ezra had done his best to think positively about what his time with his uncle would be like, but he'd quickly learned there was nothing positive about this place or his uncle. Martin had glared at him the first time he'd laid eyes on him and things had gone downhill from there.
"I ain't havin' you lay around bein' worthless like your pa," Martin called again before the toe of his boot found Ezra again, this time on the hip.
In the beginning, Ezra tried to defend his father, now he just bit his lip and listened to the insults. The only thing defending Daddy did was make his uncle angry, and that was something better avoided.
"You hear me, Boy?"
"Yes, sir," Ezra said. "I'll be out in a moment." His uncle turned with a huff and blessedly left Ezra alone again.
For the first time in his life, Ezra didn't count it as a good thing that he bore a strong resemblance to his father. Ezra knew when Martin looked at him, all he saw was Patrick, and Martin was not going to let Ezra make the same mistakes Patrick had, what Martin saw as mistakes anyway. As long as Ezra lived in his house, Martin was willing to do what he had to keep that from happening, including trying to beat good sense into Ezra. The abuse wasn't as extensive as what he'd suffered at Blackwood, but Martin had no qualms about delivering a solid backhand, a swift knock upside the head, or a punch in the solar plexus when he felt Ezra was getting too uppity. Ezra was guilty of getting uppity a lot and was still carrying around color on his cheek from the last incident.
The first few weeks here had been hard. Most everything Ezra said or did displeased his uncle in some way and he'd suffered a couple of pretty severe beatings for it. After the second one, Martin had finally laid down the law, detailing exactly what he would tolerate and what he wouldn't, and he'd promised he could get as rough as he felt Ezra needed him to be. Ezra was sure Martin had bruised a couple of his ribs that time and hadn't seen a good reason to push the issue. He had been able to be a little appreciative that Martin had simply told him what he wanted, though, and had since decided the best way to get through his time here was to keep his mouth shut and do his best to play by Martin's rules. That included getting up when he was called, even if the hour was ungodly.
Ezra took a deep breath and tried to mentally brace himself for the assault of cold air that would hit as soon as he left the relative warmth of his pallet but it did little good. He hissed as the cold air nipped at him when he finally worked up the nerve to throw his covers off and cursed the early winter. None of the cabin was very warm at this hour but the heat seemed to flee from his small corner of it faster than any other area. Shivering, Ezra pulled on his clothes as fast as he could. Not only did he crave the extra warmth but he needed to get out to the barn quickly to keep his uncle from getting any more upset. Jerking on his boots, he hurried out to the main room of the cabin not daring to stop and enjoy the warmth of the fire. It would only make going outside that much harder.
Wrapping his arms around himself Ezra shuffled through the light dusting of early season snow that fallen the night before. He didn't like the cold, he liked snow even less. It wouldn't last long, the days were still getting too warm for it to hang around, but its mere presence irritated him. Again he found himself wondering why Mama had sent him here of all places. To this cold, godforsaken farm to live with a man who hated him as much as he'd apparently hated his father.
Martin was already in the barn and started to fuss as soon as Ezra slipped inside. "What took you so long?" Martin growled.
"Sorry," Ezra mumbled, offering no defense.
A hard hand landed on his shoulder and yanked him around. "Look at me when I talk to you, Boy."
Ezra flinched back, the words dragging up unpleasant memories of Blackwood. "I'm sorry," he said again, his voice more subdued.
Martin stared at him for a long moment, seeming to search for something. Ezra didn't know what or if Martin found it, but Martin finally pushed him back around and gave his shoulder a shove. "Get to work. That cow ain't gonna milk herself."
"Yes, sir," Ezra said managing to suppress a sigh as he went over to the cow. Settling down on the stool he rubbed his hands together rapidly to warm them up some before starting the milking. He'd quickly learned the cow didn't like his cold hands being on her any more than Ezra liked his hands being cold to start with.
Leaning his head against the cow's warm flank, Ezra began milking. Oddly, he kind of enjoyed this particular chore. There was something comforting about the repetition of the movement and the sound of the milk falling into the pail. It was soothing enough that he had to stifle a yawn about halfway through and fight to keep from nodding back off. His chores weren't that bad once he drug himself outside, but he would never get used to rising so early. He just couldn't see the necessity for anyone to be up before dawn. He realized there was work that had to be done, but why did it have to be done before the sun even came up?
Martin was gone by the time Ezra finished milking, and Ezra was grateful. Anytime he didn't have to be around Martin was a blessing, which was why he was so desperate to go to school this year, and that was the only reason. Truthfully, Ezra wasn't fond of the school here; no one was particularly welcoming to him and frankly it was boring most of the time. Since the term had started there hadn't been much taught that he hadn't already learned either while studying at Prescott's or with one of his private tutors. But time away from Martin was worth a lot and Ezra would have gladly spent every lesson reading from a first-year primer if it meant getting away from the Standish farm for a few hours.
With Martin gone Ezra was able to finish up his work in peace and he almost groaned aloud when he had to go back inside. Josie had said Martin could be hard to live with, but Ezra thought his aunt had been too generous with her opinion. Hard to live with didn't even start to cover it, and Ezra found it little wonder Daddy had left home so young. He would leave if he had anywhere to go and any money to get there on. Again Ezra wondered what Mama's purpose in sending him here was, and again he couldn't think of any reason.
Martin was getting breakfast together when Ezra went back inside. "You done?" he snapped not even bothering to turn around.
"Yes, sir."
"With everything?"
"Yes, sir."
"I guess you'll be wantin' to go to school today."
"Yes, sir."
Martin sighed. "Long as your work's done."
"Yes, sir."
The exchange was nothing new. The conversation, with some slight variations, took place almost every morning during the week, and Martin agreeing he could go was about the nicest thing he ever had to say to his nephew. Ezra wasn't sure what his uncle had against education, and he certainly didn't understand it. Josie had told him Patrick's love of reading and learning had been a major cause of discord in the Standish house before Daddy had left home, but surely Martin was grateful he was able to read.
Ezra didn't ponder the point, though; he just went back to his corner and got his things together while Martin finished breakfast. All the while he could hear Martin muttering under his breath, things like "not worth it," "useless," and "just like Pat." Ezra shook his head while the grumbling continued. There had been a few times Ezra had almost been tempted to ask his uncle what it was he didn't like about school, but memories of beatings and bruises had always helped Ezra to keep his mouth shut. This morning was no different.
After a quick, silent breakfast Ezra got his things. "I'm leaving," he told his uncle.
Martin sent him a glare. "You better hightail it back right after," Martin growled. "There's still plenty of work that needs doin'."
Again Ezra's answer was a simple "Yes, sir" as he hurried out the door. He knew the only reason Martin didn't kick up a fuss with him about school was because he had made a deal with Mama. Part of that deal was that Ezra would attend school, and if Martin didn't hold up his end of things, Mama wouldn't give him the money she'd promised him. Ezra tried not to take offense at the fact Martin was being paid to keep him. He wasn't really supposed to know about it, but he'd overheard the discussion before Mama had left. He didn't know if Mama had ever paid anyone else, and quite frankly he didn't want to know. He also didn't want to give Martin a chance to change his mind and keep him home.
Ezra made it to the schoolhouse with time to spare, which was nothing unusual. He often arrived before anyone else, sometimes even the teacher. Like he usually did when he had extra time, Ezra found a secluded spot away from the schoolhouse and sat down with his deck of cards. He kept to himself for two reasons. The first being the schoolhouse was actually the church and he didn't feel right about playing cards in a church, even if it was only solitaire or practicing his dealing. The second was he didn't want to draw attention to himself. In this place, the more he could blend in and not be noticed the better.
He'd been sitting playing with his cards for five minutes or so, shivering the whole time, when he saw the teacher come in. He really wanted to wait until at least a few students arrived before he went in but the chilly morning forced him to move sooner than he liked. Gathering his cards he put them away and walked to the schoolhouse. The teacher was trying to get a fire started in the stove when he entered and as much as Ezra would have liked to sit down and pretend to be invisible he couldn't in good conscience leave Miss Cleghorn to do all the work herself.
"Would you like me to do that, Miss Cleghorn?" he asked.
The young woman turned and smiled at him. "Thank you, Ezra. I would appreciate that."
Putting his stuff away, Ezra took over the task of lighting the stove. He worked in silence until Miss Cleghorn came over. "Ezra," she said.
Ezra straightened. "Yes, ma'am?"
Ezra could feel her eyes go to the bruise on his cheek when he faced her and she gave him a sort of sad looking smile. Ezra tried not to react. Martin didn't often leave visible bruises and when he did most folks didn't say anything. He assumed most people knew Martin well enough to know what was going on, and most probably thought it wasn't any of their business, but that didn't stop the looks of pity. Ezra hated those looks.
She sat down and motioned towards one of the other desks. "Would you sit down."
Ezra sat.
"Have you given any thought to what you are going to do when this term is over?"
"No, ma'am."
"This is your last year, correct?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'm asking, Ezra, because you're very bright. Sometimes I feel like there's not much I'm able to teach you."
Ezra flushed some and dropped his eyes. It may have been true but he hadn't wanted Miss Cleghorn to know that. It really wasn't her fault.
"And don't you be embarrassed about it," the teacher continued with a smile. "You should never be ashamed of your mind or the things you know."
Ezra nodded but stayed quiet wondering what point Miss Cleghorn was trying to make. Almost as if she had heard the silent question Miss Cleghorn gave him an answer.
"I'm telling you this because I think you should think about what will happen after this year. I know you haven't been with your uncle very long, and I don't know why you're here now, but I know this world isn't quite what you are used to. And I don't think you should remain here unless you really want to, that is. You have a brilliant mind, Ezra, and you could do so much. You could go to college if you wanted to."
"College?" Ezra had never thought about that before. What he really wanted was to just get through this year and away from Martin. He'd never considered continuing his education.
"Indeed." The teacher must have seen how bemused he felt because she smiled again. "It's nothing you have to decide right now of course, but I think you should think about it. Even if financing would be difficult there are those who are willing to help with things like that for young men who really want to go."
Ezra nodded again wondering if he'd really want to do that, and how Mama would feel about it. Benjamin and Nora Duke came in then and halted anymore talk, but before Miss Cleghorn left him she patted his hand. "Just think about it, Ezra."
Ezra did think about his teacher's words. He thought about them the rest of the day and most of the evening, and by the time he was in bed that night Ezra had decided some things, though probably not the things Miss Cleghorn thought he would. One was he didn't think he wanted to go to college. He liked school well enough, but he had no desire to be a doctor or a lawyer or anything like that so college would probably be a waste of time. What he did want to do was go home, home to Alabama. He figured if Mama didn't want him around he should at least be able to make a decision about where he went. He did plan on finishing school, but he had no desire to stay with his uncle any longer than that, and he wouldn't.
The problem was he hadn't heard from his mother in over two months. He had no idea where she was, or how long she intended for him to remain here. Not knowing when she would come for him Ezra decided he would have to make his own arrangements for leaving. Despite what his father had done, Ezra didn't think he was brave enough to pack up and leave without some money to his name, and where was he going to get money? Ezra spent the better part of the night thinking about that, and when the answer finally came to him it was so simple he felt a little foolish that he hadn't thought of it before.
Miss Cleghorn had told him he was smart, and at the risk of sounding vain, Ezra would agree. For the most part, school had always come easily for him, but there was something else that came easily too, something that came even more easily, cards. There was a saloon in town, and Ezra was almost old enough that he probably wouldn't draw too much attention to himself if he went in alone. The important thing was he could get money, money that would help him get home as soon as he was done with school. The only thing he had to work out now, was how to keep Martin from finding out and how to get some capital to start working with.
Ezra went to sleep pondering his new problem and when he was kicked awake the next morning, he thought he had his answer. He would have to go when Martin wouldn't know about it, which meant he'd have to go when Martin was asleep. Doing that would make for some long days, but Ezra was willing to sacrifice a little sleep if it meant giving him the means to get home. He'd gone without sleep many times when he'd been helping Thaddeus and Jim with the gaming room at Prescott's. He could give a night or two a week here too. As for the second part, Ezra had a solution for that too. He knew his uncle had some money tucked away. All he needed to do was borrow some of it. He could take just enough to get him started and replace it as soon as he'd won some. Martin would be furious if he even found about either one, but if he was smart, Ezra saw no reason why that would ever come up.
Having devised a plan he was pretty sure would eventually get him home made the morning seem a little less gloomy than it normally did. Ezra knew he was still looking at several months with his uncle, but just the hope that he would be going home lifted his spirits. He did try to stay subdued around Martin as his uncle seemed to like misery, but the truth was Ezra felt better than he had in a long while. One way or the other, with or without his mother's help, Ezra was going home.
The school day dragged by like it normally did, and his evening with Martin dragged by even slower, but eventually Martin went to bed. Ezra lay on his pallet, listening carefully, trying to judge when his uncle had fallen into a deep sleep. After an hour or so he decided he was probably safe and quietly got up. Putting on his coat and grabbing his boots, Ezra tiptoed out of the cabin and into the night. He breathed a sigh of relief when he closed the door behind him and finally took the time to put on his boots. He then walked the familiar path to the barn and once he was safely inside he lit a lamp.
Alone in the barn, Ezra allowed himself to grin. He was filled with that same giddy anticipation that had always come over him before the poker games he'd dealt at Prescott's. He knew there would be hell to pay if Martin caught him, he knew he'd likely get beat within an inch of his life, but there was an excitement he couldn't deny too, and the pleasure was worth the risk.
Ezra saddled a horse and blew out the lamp before leading the animal outside. "We're going into town tonight," Ezra told the horse as if the animal could understand him. "And you can't say anything to Martin."
The horse blew out making Ezra grin again. He would swear sometimes they knew what he was saying. Mounting up, Ezra pointed the horse in the direction of town.
By the time they arrived, Ezra's stomach was churning with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. It had been a while since he'd been in an environment like this and he wasn't sure how he would be received, but at the same time, he was so ready to sit down and play a real poker game he could hardly stand it. Making sure his horse was secure, Ezra took a calming breath and stepped inside the saloon.
For a minute he stood just inside the door and stared. The place was brightly lit, loud, and filled with cigar smoke. It was no gentleman's club for sure, nor was it like the social gatherings he'd gone to with Asa back in Tennessee, and it certainly wasn't a cellar at Prescott's. Frankly, it was nothing like what he'd expected, and it was exactly like what he'd expected, too. It was boisterous, bordering on uncivilized, but there was something welcoming about it; something Ezra couldn't quite put his finger on.
Fighting back a grin Ezra surveyed the room looking for somewhere to go, and then he found it, a man sitting over in a corner with a bottle. He was dressed nicer than anyone else in the place, dressed nicer than anyone else in town actually, and there was an air about him that attracted Ezra. Ezra had the feeling that this man wouldn't turn him away just because of his age and almost without realizing what he was doing, Ezra started to walk over.
"Excuse me, sir?" Ezra said when he reached the table.
The man looked up from his whiskey and Ezra could tell he was surprised to see the likes of Ezra here. "What can I do for you, son?" he asked giving Ezra an obvious once over.
The words were polite enough, but Ezra could hear a rather disinterested tone in the question. Ezra smiled, that would soon change. "I was wondering if you partook in games of chance."
Again Ezra could tell the man was surprised. "I do indeed. When there's a decent game to be had."
"But you aren't playing tonight?"
"I said a decent game, son. There's no decent play to be found here."
"Would you care to try your luck with me?"
The man's tone was more welcoming now and his eyes twinkled with amusement. "I wouldn't feel right about takin' your money, kid."
"You are assuming, of course, you will take my money. I am not ignorant of the game."
The man looked at him, really looked at him now, and Ezra could tell he wasn't seeing a dirt farmer but the gentleman Ezra had been raised to be. "You're not from around here are you?"
Ezra smiled. "No, sir, I am not."
"And you could get in a lot of trouble for being here, couldn't you?"
The question was unexpected and Ezra couldn't hide his reaction. "Perhaps," he said averting his eyes for a moment, hoping his discomfort wasn't too obvious.
The man shrugged. "Why not? It's not like anything else is goin' on tonight." He pushed a chair out from the table with his foot. "Sit down. Name's Sam McCord."
"Ezra Standish."
McCord took a deck out of his jacket but before he started to shuffle he looked Ezra in the eye. "I'm not letting you lose all your money. Understand?"
"Yes, sir, but as I said, I'm not ignorant of the game."
McCord raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Neither am I."