In the interest of being abundantly clear, let me point out what I'm doing with this. I'm using the plot of the pilot episode of Psych as a basis of this story, so I'll be following the rough line of it. I'm in no way claiming this plot as my own. I'll be putting a couple of little tweaks into it only to ease my way as I'm not using the setting and characters of the original and because I can't help myself. I'm using the characters of the Magnificent Seven, and their setting, because I thought it'd be fun and I thought Ezra's skills might translate well into Shawn's hyper-awareness.

I've played around with Ezra's age just because I felt I needed him a bit younger.

I hope that's clear and that you all enjoy reading.

The gambler had been in town for five hours. Chris Larabee hadn't liked him after five minutes.

He was a young man in his early twenties, handsome in a delicate way – even with the strong, square jawline – with jade green eyes and dimples that popped when he smiled. He smiled a lot, either not noticing or not caring that it was rarely returned. He'd ridden into town not long after the stage had arrived, smiling and tipping his black riverboat hat to those in town who'd glanced up at the sudden appearance of scarlet in their dusty little burg and Chris had known the boy was going to be trouble. His clothing – that damn red jacket - proclaimed his profession before he'd even opened his mouth. He'd followed the kid into the saloon, a curious Vin Tanner close behind and watched through narrowed eyes as the gambler had introduced himself to the three surprised cowhands sitting out of the afternoon sun as Ezra Standish. He was, apparently, at their service.

The oldest, most surly of the three, had taken him at his word, suggesting the flashy little gambler buy them a drink and Standish had, with enough good cheer that Vin hadn't been able to stop himself grinning. The boy had proceeded to sit with the men, produce a pack of cards out of nowhere and rope the cowhands into a couple of hands of poker.

Chris hadn't liked the way the cardsharp had drawn information about Four Corners from his opponents as easily as he had, but the boy wasn't doing anything illegal that he could see, and he couldn't stop fools from being parted from their money. Didn't anyone know they didn't stand a chance against a professional card player? They made their living changing the cards to their will. But as the day waned and news of the town's newest stranger spread, more and more men came forward looking to pit their skills against Standish.

Chris glowered over the rim of his glass as another unlucky mark rose from the table with significantly less money than what he'd sat down with. He hadn't been able to catch the kid at it, but Chris was watching for the cheat that turned the table to Standish's favour. When it happened, he was going to enjoy throwing the little bastard into the jail and divesting him of the stolen money. Vin slouched by his side, keen eyes studying everything and occasionally offering Chris a crooked grin or a shrug when neither of them managed to discern any wrongdoing.

"Hell, cowboy, mebbe he don't gotta cheat?" the laconic tracker remarked as a second man left the table.

Chris was about to scoff the idea down when JD Dunne, the town's sheriff, slid into the chair next to him. Buck Wilmington joined them a touch more sedately.

"Oh boy, it's true? We've got a gambler in town?" JD's voice was full of enthusiasm about the idea.

"He ain't staying," Chris growled, moodily pouring himself another shot.

Used to Chris' moods, JD continued to stare. "I should probably go introduce myself, huh?"

"Don't you sit down with 'im, kid," Buck warned. "Ain't no way you'd come outta that encounter with anything but your skin." The large former Texas Ranger turned an appraising eye on the stranger. "Even if he is just a baby gambler."

"I've seen gambler's before, you know," JD defended. "I'm just going to make sure he knows there's law present in town. Kinda my job, right?"

Buck sighed. "I'll come with you."

"Don't need a babysitter," JD grouched.

Chris turned his eyes to the pair. "You ever confronted a gambler?"

JD shook his head, his youthful eyes still taking in the bright red jacket and the dazzling speed of the cardsharp's hands. Chris met Buck's gaze who shrugged ruefully. There was a lot of things the kid hadn't done before coming out west.

"Buck'll go with ya."

JD opened his mouth to protest again, caught the hard features and the cold hazel eyes of the man sat before him and choose to go with it. He stood, adjusted his hat and with a nod to Buck, headed for the gambler's table.

Standish had caught them approaching, pausing the game in time to greet their arrival and leaning back in his chair to meet their eyes. "Gentlemen. May I presume you wish to join our game?"

JD blinked, surprised at the soft, southern drawl. He hadn't expected it, having grown used to the way the people spoke out west. "Uh, no," he apologised. "I was just … I'm the sheriff."

An elegant, chestnut eyebrow raised. "Indeed?"

JD bristled, about to retort to the usual comment about his age – and indignantly noting Standish wasn't a whole lot older than he was - when the gambler spoke again.

"What can I do for you, sheriff?"

"Oh! I just wanted to, you know, introduce myself."

"How thoughtful." The gambler stood, ignoring Buck's growing grin at JD's awkwardness and holding out his hand. "Ezra Standish."

"JD Dunne. This is Buck Wilmington," he added, indicating the big man at his side.

Ezra shook his hand also. "Are you a deputy, Mr Wilmington?"

"Nah," Buck shrugged easily. "JD's the only official in town, but there's six of us lawmen, of a sort."

"Six? One would hardly believe a town of this size to need that many."

"Oh, we get all sorts of stuff going on," JD assured him. "I've only been here five months and already we've-"

"JD," Buck interrupted. His gaze swept the small bag the gambler had brought into the saloon with him. "Travelling light, son? You'll be moving on soon enough, then."

Ezra sat back down, smiling softly. "Just as soon as I am ready, Mr Wilmington. Don't fear, I doubt your fair municipality will hold me for long."

"Doubt it will," Buck agreed. He clapped JD on the shoulder. "Let's leave Mr Standish to his game, eh?"

Chris, observing the conversation and making no effort to hide his inspection, watched as Standish's unusual eyes followed the pair back to his table, before the gambler's playing partners refocused his attention. With far more cheer than he had a right to, the boy engaged his opponents in conversation as if Buck's suggestion had simply washed over him.

Chris snarled softly. Yeah, this one was going to be trouble all right.

It was after midnight as the last of Ezra's challengers left his table. The boy looked perturbed for a moment, before shrugging to himself and knocking back the last of his whiskey. He hadn't drunk much during the night, Chris recalled.

The gambler looked around the saloon. He and Chris were the only people still there, aside from the bored bartender. Standing, Standish placed his hat on his head, tipped it towards Chris and sauntered past him on his way up the stairs. Earlier, he had taken a room above the saloon, obviously hoping to play far later into the night than Four Corner's citizens had catered for.

Chris' upper lip curled as the cardsharp moved past him and up the stairs. Once the kid was out of sight, Chris too sunk the rest of his whiskey. Then, without acknowledging the barkeeper, he stalked out the building.

Coming back from the morning patrol to raised voices and lots of activity did nothing to alleviate Chris' black mood. Not quite eleven and already his patience was sorely tested. He debated sending a warning shot into the air as he surveyed the small crowd that had gathered outside the small mercantile that stood at the opposite end of the street to the larger Potter's General Store. This one was owned by an out of towner and managed by a middle-aged bachelor named Gerard Dupree. Dupree was currently standing on the raised boards of the sidewalk, giving an itemised list to JD. Apparently, the store had been robbed.

Neither of them had cause to ignite Chris' ire, however. That dubious honour went to the half dozen or so worried citizens demanding of Josiah and JD what they were going to do about the thieving. Chris grit his teeth. Trust the people to turn one incident into a major burglary ring. Idly, Chris wondered if Mary Travis had raised that spectre, searching for a more dynamic headline for the Clarion. He could see her among the populace.

Josiah bellowed for quiet and in the shocked silence that followed, the blond gunslinger heard a light chuckle to his right. Turning slightly in the saddle, Chris' frown deepened.

Ezra Standish, cup of coffee in hand, was lounging against the saloon wall, ankles crossed, and gaze centred on the small knot of people.

"Something funny?" Chris ground out, dismounting and loosely looping his horse's reins around the rail at the front of the saloon.

"They grow them big around here, don't they?" Standish nodded his head at Josiah. "One of your lawmen, I presume?"

When Chris didn't respond, the gambler continued.

"Well, when one can't have wits, I suppose one looks instead to brawn. Much like the other gentleman I met last night." He made a pretence of glancing about the town. "Where are your other men hiding, I wonder?"

"Keep at it and you'll meet 'em soon enough."

Standish smiled pleasantly. "Are they all as charming as yourself?"

Chris snarled, and the boy chuckled again. Standing straight he made to re-enter the saloon, only to be halted as Chris gripped his arm. "I want you gone."

"Oh, I shan't dally, Mr Larabee."

Chris' eyes narrowed. His grip tightened.

Standish sighed. "Your sheriff was only too pleased to share with me just who you were. He seems unduly impressed." Ignoring the hand on his bicep, the gambler glanced at JD over his shoulder. "If I may offer a bit of advice? You might remind him to check the store manager, if you wish for him to solve this mystery."

"What's that mean?"

The boy met his eyes steadily. "He did it himself."

"Dupree?" Despite himself, Chris glanced at the man across the street.

"He fails to meet Mr Dunne's eyes," the young gambler stated. "He's nervous – there, you see him playing with his button? He doesn't much enjoy being the centre of attention, does he, even though all these good people are here to support his cause. No sir, unless I miss my mark, the gentleman has had a hand in the theft."

Chris tightened his grip again, causing the boy to wince. "Come with me."

"Where-"

"You're under arrest."

Standish dug his heels in, already halfway across the street. "I beg your pardon?"

"JD!"

The sheriff's head swung wide eyed in their direction.

"Bring Dupree!" With that, Chris jerked his prisoner into a march towards the jail.

"I'm telling you, I had nothing to do with it!"

Chris turned his cold gaze from Gerard Dupree to Ezra Standish. "He says you do."

"I don't know who he is!"

"And I don't know why I've been accused," Standish sighed, crossing his arms and looking about the small cell he occupied with distain. In the adjoining cell Dupree stared at him in bewilderment.

"Judge'll be arriving tomorrow, 'bout midday," Buck announced, entering the jail. "Gonna commission a carriage from Santa Fe."

Vin stood straight from where he'd been slouching against the desk, enjoying the back and forth between Chris and the young gambler. "Why? He's due on the stage next week."

Buck shrugged and directed his answer to Chris. "Mentioned our friendly gambler's name and he wired back immediately."

Chris turned glowering hazel eyes onto Standish. "How do you know Orrin Travis?"

"Aw, hell." For the first time, the boy looked more worried than annoyed.

Despite himself, Buck grinned. "Whatcha do?"

"It was a simple misunderstanding, I assure you."

"Like this is?" Vin asked, eyebrows raised.

The gambler shot Chris a glare. "Certainly not. This is a miscarriage of justice, a flagrant fabrication and a reminder to keep my help to myself."

"Sounds more like inside information, to me, Hoss," Buck commented.

"Mr Dupree has already stated he doesn't know me."

"Mebbe he drops the goods, don't know who picks 'em up."

"Oh, good Lord."

"Enough," Chris cut in. "Judge'll decide when he gets here." With a final scowl, Chris nodded to Buck and headed out, Wilmington following as requested. Vin grinned at the young gambler.

"Iff'n you ain't involved, how did you know Dupree had done it?"

"As I explained to Mr Larabee, I merely observed his guilt."

Ignoring Dupree's spluttering denial, Vin stepped closer to the cells. "How d'ya reckon he did it?"

"At present, I have no incentive to ruminate upon the matter. I can only presume at this juncture that any assistance I yield will damn myself further."

"Does seem strange, don'tcha think?" Vin nodded towards the other cell. "His goods go missin' the night ya've arrived. Chris said ya didn't stay as long at the table as ya wanted to. Might have felt the need to add to your winnin's."

"And where do you suppose I have hidden such a bountiful load?"

"Expect you'll let us know," Vin shrugged. He glanced out the window, judging the position of the sun. "Josiah's turn for the jail soon."

"The bemouth?" Ezra cocked his head to one side. "Do you mean to say he is to beat the information from me?"

Vin gazed at him steadily. "Not how we do things here, pard."

Josiah Sanchez had expected the usual; sullen or defensive prisoners, maybe blustering or swaggering as so many young men were. The world expected them to be tough, and they in turn expected to be taken seriously. This was not the case as he switched with Vin, at least not with the young gambler. While Dupree slouched on his cot, mulish and discontent, Standish had been regaling Vin with his exploits in Arizona to the Texan's amusement. After running through a quick handover to Josiah, Vin left with a friendly nod to the younger man, slipping into the dusk outside.

Settling behind the sheriff's desk, Josiah noticed there had been none of the belligerence Chris had reported and wondered what had changed. Turning his gaze anew on the prisoners, he was met with an appraising green stare and a crooked smile.

"I believe Mr Tanner has lulled me into something of a false sense of security," the southerner announced in a soft voice.

Josiah lifted his eyebrows, wondering what side of his nature the boy was going to show to him. "Oh?"

"He led me to believe you were not a physical man, but one of peace and care. However, the scars on your knuckles say otherwise."

Inspecting his hands ruefully, Josiah shrugged. "Such is the duality of men, son."

"I am not your son, sir." Standish crinkled his nose, although whether in disgust at Josiah's terminology or surprise at his response, the ex-preacher couldn't tell. Something had flashed in those jade eyes however, before the young man's expression became coolly controlled once more.

Josiah simply smiled. "Buck tells me you're a friend of Travis."

"I have met the esteemed gentlemen," the southerner allowed, "but due to circumstances beyond my control, I regret that we did not part cordially."

Taking in the fancy attire and recalling the end of the tale the kid had been recounting to Vin – that of a successful if somewhat comical, con – Josiah had no doubt the judge hadn't accepted Standish with open arms. Still, for Travis to abandon his plans and take a carriage straight to Four Corners …

"Sounds like a remarkable tale."

The crooked grin was back, accompanied by a dimple. "Sir, you have no idea."

As the evening wore on, Ezra relaxed enough in Josiah's company to loop his arms through the bars of his cell and lean easily on the crossbar in his shirtsleeves, explaining how he thought Dupree had robbed his own store.

"He sent a number of packages aboard the stage," he explained, allowing his fingers to play with the deck of cards he'd removed from his scarlet jacket. "Were one to open them, I suspect whatever goods he took from the store would await within. As to their final destination, I cannot say."

Josiah's long face showed his scepticism. "You saw him load 'em, son?"

"I am not aware of any familial relation, Mr Sanchez."

The older man grinned. This wasn't the first time Standish had refused to answer anything said attached to the appellation. "You saw Dupree hand over packages?"

"Indeed. Thirteen, if I'm not mistaken."

Josiah raised his eyebrows, intelligent grey eyes twinkling. "You stopped to count?"

"Hardly," the gambler shrugged, switching hands with the cards and performing the same moves as flawlessly as before. He raised his eyes to meet the big man's enquiring stare. "I'm observant."

"Clearly."

"You can't possibly know how many packages were there, you barely glanced at me," Dupree remarked, sitting in his own cell, listening morosely. He'd interrupted occasionally, mostly to protest his innocence. His objections were becoming half-hearted at best.

"I'm observant," the boy repeated, and Josiah watched his defences kick in, a wall rising and hiding him securely behind it, denying the older man access to whatever emotion Ezra had been feeling. It was unsettling to see him react so completely, so suddenly. Josiah wondered if he'd be able to find out what made the boy behave in such a manner.

Deciding to give the kid some space, Josiah turned his attention to the store manager. "That true? Thirteen?"

Dupree nodded glumly.

"Where they headed?"

"Boulder," the manager sighed, apparently now resigned to his fate. "Mr Simms owns another store there."

"He's going to sell them and collect the insurance?" Josiah guessed, raising out of the seat. At Dupree's grimace, he left the building to stick his head into the street. Whistling loud, he caught JD's attention. "Get Chris."

Once the black-clad gunslinger arrived, Josiah glanced at Dupree. "Tell him what you told me."

After listening to the story, Chris allowed a small smile to touch his lips. "Knew you'd get 'em to talk, 'Siah."

"Wasn't me," the big man smiled, nodding at Ezra.

"Traitor," the southerner muttered. Standing straight, he met Chris' coldly burning eyes. "Once again, I must protest my innocence, sir. I am merely a witness and have found myself a victim of circumstance."

Chris ignored him, instead intent on Josiah. "The boy told you what happened to the merchandise?"

"He guessed," Josiah shrugged. "Dupree admitted everything."

"He guessed?" Chris repeated, eyes once more straying to the gambler.

Josiah grinned. "Boy's observant."

The cardsharp sent a glare in the man's direction before refocusing on Chris. "I had no part in the theft, Mr Larabee." Standish's voice was soft, but firm.

"He's right," Dupree sighed. "I've never met him before and Mr Simms never mentioned a third man. He's supposed to pick up the parcels himself, out in Boulder."

Ezra turned triumphantly towards the two lawmen. "Gentlemen? If you would be so kind as to effect my emancipation? We can put this whole unpleasant experience behind us."

As Josiah reached for the keys to the cells, the blond stopped him.

Chris met the gambler's gaze. "Judge said to hold 'im." Without another word, he strode from the jail.