It didn't take too long to catch up to Buck, and Chris easily could have closed the gap, but decided to stay back a bit. Close enough, he hoped, to step in if he figured his friend needed it, but far enough to give him the privacy to deal with all of this.
As much as part of him wanted to be mad at Buck over everything that had happened, he understood what had pushed him to act the way he did. The need to protect the people you love or to seek vengeance on those who harm them was a motivation Chris understood all too well. Truth of the matter was he knew beyond a doubt if this had been Sarah involved he would have acted the same way. Not even sure he would have had the restraint Buck showed.
And he knew it wasn't right to put all of the blame at the man's feet. Ignoring for the moment the fact the people in love could be frighteningly stupid a times, Buck had been right about one thing. This bitch had played him – had played them all – brilliantly. Not one member of the team had been remotely suspicious of her. Even JD, while not liking the fact she was dominating Buck's time, didn't suspect anything was off kilter about her. Granted, he'd been willing to accept Ezra's denunciation of her that faster than any of them, but Chris was sure the kid would acknowledge his motivations were somewhat on the selfish side.
And using Mary to spread her lies had been nothing shy of inspired. The newswoman had a solid reputation in the community and people accepted her reports as fact, even if they didn't always agree with her opinions. He knew she was going to deeply regret her role in all of this when the truth came out.
They all had a lot to regret. He never could have imagined the day that essentially the entire town owed Ezra Standish, of all people, an apology. He didn't imagine most of them would see it that way and he also knew Ezra wouldn't expect them to. After all, he had said it himself - anyone who led the kind of life he had shouldn't be surprised when their honesty was questioned. The townspeople would say he deserved to be mistrusted and most would probably continue to do so. Chris wished he could say he wasn't one of them, but he knew better. Some doubt was going to remain, at least on certain points. He knew his own nature, and he had a pretty good idea of Ezra's. Some things just don't change, leastwise not overnight. One thing would be different though. Next time, he'd listen to the man. Assuming, he reluctantly thought, there is a chance for a next time.
As they neared town, Chris spurred Pony ahead. The last thing he wanted was Buck taking matters into his own hands.
Buck glanced up as Chris came along side. "Don't worry Cowboy. I'm gonna play by the rules here – for now."
"You don't have all of the facts. I think there are a few more things you need to know."
"Know what's important. I was a damned fool and it cost a man his life. A man I should have been treating like a friend. Nothing you can say is gonna change any of that."
"What else have you been thinking about?"
Buck shrugged. "Everything, and nothing. I should have seen in Chris. Looking back it seems so clear. She was controlling everything I did, and I went along like some kind of damned puppet."
"Yup. She's good. No question about it. Ezra said she was one of the best he'd ever seen. Of course, having him for a teacher probably helped in that."
Reining Lady to a stop, Buck stared at him. "When did he tell you that?"
"Left a letter. Telling me all the stuff he tried to say but we – I – wouldn't listen to."
"That what turned you around on this?"
"Well, it got me to thinking. Too late though. This isn't all on you Buck. Every one of us takes on some of it to some degree."
"What else did he say?"
Chris hesitated, not sure that this was the time. On the other hand, was there a better one coming? He reached into his jacket pocket. He'd kept the letter close from the moment he read it, not wanting anyone else to see it until matters got settled. With only a slight hesitation, he handed it over.
Mr. Larabee:
I realize even as I take pen, or rather pencil, in hand, there is a senselessness of my effort. The probability of your taking the time to even scan this missive, let alone review it with anything beyond a skeptic's eye, is effectively non-existent. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to make the effort, for reasons that are beyond my comprehension.
There is no purpose in my wasting a great deal of time once again proclaiming my innocence in this matter. You have no reason to believe me, although I have made what I considered to be a valiant effort in recent months to establish a modicum of credibility in your eyes. It is now clearly evident that my attempt has failed. Indeed, failed miserably.
What I am about to tell you will indubitably be dismissed, but in all good conscience (yes, I do have one) I feel I must share my information and expertise.
To reiterate what I sought to inform you of when all of this commenced, the woman you know as Clarice Foster is in fact Annabella Morrison. At least, that is the identity I have always known her by. I will spare you the more lurid and colourful details of our time together, knowing as I do how you would react to our escapades. She is beyond question the second best confidence woman in this country today. I take a somewhat perverse pride in knowing I played a role in that training, assisted ably by my dear mother, who retains the title of queen in that category.
Without more time to review the situation in our – I'm sorry – your town, I cannot begin to surmise what she is doing so far from traditional sources of wealth. Suffice it to say there is, or soon will be, an event with an abundant amount of cash at hand to make it worth her while to travel to what she would see as a remote and desolate locale.
While you have all at various times lamented my elaborate manner of speaking, in this circumstance I concede that words fail me. Despite possessing an extensive vocabulary I cannot find any utterance that would allow me to convince you that what I am writing here is the truth. The best I can offer is to outline the modus operandi for this charming charlatan, in the hopes that it will shine some light on her true nature.
Her arrival, an event deliberately timed to occur during my arranged absence, would have been without fanfare. But within moments of it happening, she would have found a way to stumble, possibly literally, into the path of our resident Romeo. She would have portrayed herself as strong willed, yet delicate enough to need to lean on her hero. She has told him little of her past, saying it is far too painful to discuss.
She has made every effort to keep him away from the rest of you without removing him entirely from your presence. Conversations held away from your ears would see her planting the idea in his mind that she is the one who truly understands him and may be suggesting that being in a town like Four Corners is holding him back. I would imagine she has indicated that, sadly, she can stay only a short time before needing to move on, thus intensifying the relationship to make the most of what little time together they have and keeping him focused on her. Given the deplorably less than generous state of Mr. Wilmington's finances, I feel it is safe to assume she has an ulterior motive in selecting him to be her knight in shining armour. The most logical conclusion is that she anticipates he will be a source of information needed to achieve her final goal.
I might note at this juncture that there is an excellent chance she will be associating with at least one other individual in this operation. You would be wise to watch for strangers in the community or environs.
One of the factors I no longer feel confident in predicting is how she will end this. The Annabella I knew and for a time was quite fond of would never have considered hurting a mark. Her training, at the hands of an expert, taught her that a job properly executed would have no need for violence. Most victims were too smitten or too embarrassed, or both, to lodge a complaint. It is always of paramount importance to avoid doing anything that would attract undue attention from the enforcers of law and public order.
Sadly, presuming the stories I have heard in recent times have any truth, this is no longer her methodology. She has been widowed on at least one occasion, and there are tales of other – I shall call them misdeeds. Her accusations against me, knowing how Mr. Wilmington and others, like yourself, would react, serve only to reinforce the notion that she cares not what harm befalls those who interfere with her agenda.
The pressing question in this would be is Mr. Wilmington in danger from this vixen? Emotionally perhaps, but I doubt there is a physical risk. In truth, I feel certain in my expectation that I am at far greater risk of personal injury than is our Lothario. She has nothing to gain by harming him. On the other hand, she likely imagines she has little to lose. She is blissfully unaware of the fury of hell she would be unleashing upon herself were she to wound, or worse, such a valued member of your team, not to mention a friend. I would not want to be in her place when you do come to recognize her iniquitous nature.
My time is running short as I am expected to be on my way out of town in mere moments from now. I hope, but do not anticipate, that you will heed my warnings. This 'Clarice' of Mr. Wilmington's will wreak havoc on this town and those in it in some way, of that I am certain. You will not believe me when I say this, but I do regret the role I played in that.
I am presumptuous enough to ask one thing of you when this is over, and my comparative innocence has been proven. Please do all that is within your ability to attempt to convince Mr. Wilmington that I harbour no animosity toward him for his actions, and indeed admire his strength of character. Setting aside the simple truth that he was sorely manipulated by an expert it need be said that he was acting in an heroic manner in coming to her defence, futile though the action was. He is a reincarnated personification of the age of chivalry wherein the protection of a ladies honour was paramount. The pity is, she is no lady.
In a manner of speaking, I have brought this upon myself, a sadly familiar circumstance in my life. Mr. Sanchez would rightly affirm that one does reap what one sows, and I assuredly planted the seeds that have led to this moment. Consequently, as with Mr. Wilmington, you may assure yourself and the others that your actions and reactions were neither surprising nor offensive to me. I will concede however, that they were to some extent disappointing.
For what it is worth, probably not a sum worth mentioning, I do wish you all good fortune both in the immediate and more distant future. I find myself in the scandalous (by my standards) position of realizing I will miss this town, and the experiences we shared.
Sincerely, your somewhat less than humble servant,
Ezra P. Standish.
His hand was shaking by the time he got to the end. "God, you'd think he was there watching. He got it all right."
"Understandably."
It still didn't make sense to Buck. "He admires me? What I said to him, what I threatened, and he writes that he admires me?"
"He admires integrity. I think he figures it's something he'll never have, so he can appreciate it others. Not sure that he's as right about that as he thinks he is."
Buck shook his head, staring at the letter. "Doubt if he'd have said any of this if he'd known how it was going to turn out. Sure as shit would have some of that animosity of his over the fact I got him killed."
The time had come. "No, you didn't"
Handing the letter back, Buck picked up the reins. "You ain't gonna convince me of that one Chris, so don't even bother."
"You can blame yourself all you want Buck, but you didn't get him killed. Ezra ain't dead."
Buck stared in disbelief. "What?"
"He was beat halfway there and left out to finish the job. Josiah brought him into the church. That's what Nathan's been doing – tending to him."
Still trying to absorb the shock, Buck was more that confused. "Why?"
Figuring he was asking about the deception and not the beating, Chris gave him the best answer he could. "We didn't know how anybody would react, and he wasn't strong enough to survive if someone wanted to finish the job."
"You figure she woulda tried to kill him?" The idea that she was associated with the men who had attacked Ezra was hard enough to process. That she would take the job into her own hands was all but impossible to accept, but he felt in his gut there was no other possibility. He knew the answer even as he asked, and it was making him sick.
"Not a chance I was going to take."
"So all of it was an act? Vin never thought I did it? None of you did?"
The moment of hesitation gave him his answer. "You all thought I might have."
"Be lying if I said it didn't cross my mind. But no, not a one of us really believed it. It did give us the excuse we needed for Vin to get out of town to do what needed to be done."
"Not to mention a reason for me to spend more time with her." He hadn't said her name since everything had begun to unravel. He took a deep breath to settle his growing anger. "Take it he was hurt though? How bad?"
"Can't recall seeing anyone beat on like that. Nathan's had a tough fight to keep him with us."
"But he's gonna be ok?" It was the first hint of optimism Buck had shown.
Chris shrugged, wishing for so many reasons he could give a positive answer to that. "Maybe. He had another rough night, but Nathan figures the fact he's still hanging on is a good sign." The tone was less than convincing, and he watched Buck's face fall even further. It had been almost cruel to give him a sense of hope that at least one aspect of this disaster wasn't as bad as he thought, only to take that away again.
"Look, Buck. I'm sorry. We used you just as much as she did."
"Not the same, and for completely different reasons. I get it Chris. That ain't what has me riled. Besides, you gotta admit I had it coming."
"No one has something like this coming to them. You didn't deserve it anymore than Ezra deserved our judgement of him, let alone the beating. Fact was, I didn't know another way to make this work. Was hoping to take at least one of them alive to get the whole story, but…"
"She'd have denied whatever they said, and there wouldn't be much in the way for proof. As long as she pays, nothing else matters." He started riding toward town again with a determined look on his face, and nothing more was said.
M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7
tbc
