THE TRADE

PART 2

Ezra stepped out of the newspaper office with a gun in hand. He paused, it took a second to realize the landscape had changed. After the raucous gunfire, the sudden silence was disconcerting and perplexing. Ezra holstered his gun and slowly exhaled, trying to siphon off the adrenaline rush fueled by the melee. Sobbing directed his next steps toward the mercantile where a crowd had gathered.

Ezra stepped through the silent crowd to witness a middle-aged woman weeping uncontrollably, a grey-flecked head resting in her lap. Robert Guthridge, one of the more influential citizens rested a hand on her shoulder allowing her to express her grief. The man who lay unnaturally splayed on the boardwalk had been her husband. The absence of Nathan meant he was beyond help. Ezra recognized the woman as Edith Berman. She and her husband Jonathan had purchased the mercantile a month ago. The faces' of the townsfolk surrounding the grieving woman expressed their sorrow and anger at the loss of one of their own. Ezra glanced up the street to see Mr. Shepard, the undertaker, striding towards the distraught group.

"What happened?" Ezra asked no one in particular.

"It was them outlaws!" Mr. Guthridge answered. "Mr. Berman was just tryin' to protect his store and one of 'em just gunned 'im down." Guthridge slowly shook his head and patted Edith's shoulder. "Poor thing."

"Where are Mr. Larabee and the others?" Ezra interjected.

Robert Guthridge stared at the disheveled gambler. Where had he been and how could he possibly have missed everything? He nodded toward Nathan's. "The sheriff was shot. They took him up to the clinic."

Ezra's eyes widened and for a moment he forgot to breathe. Then he gasped and raced toward the clinic.

If he had time to think about it, he would have wondered about the fear that suddenly strangled his heart. He had only recently admitted to himself that there was something intrinsic between him and the six men he worked with, something that held them together-something that kept them all in this one-horse town. He had deferred on his mother's many urgings to join her in various schemes, all because he didn't want to lose out on the friendship of these unique men. He had grown up virtually alone. A door was opening for him; one he desperately wanted to walk through.

Ezra's heart pounded as he raced up the stairs two at a time.

M7M7M7M7M7

Ezra arrived at the top of the stairs just as Chris, Vin, and Buck came out onto the porch. Ezra's fear for JD was making it difficult to regain his composure. The breathless gambler suddenly found himself pinned to the wall with Buck's arm across his throat.

"Where the hell were you?" Buck yelled at his startled captive.

Ezra clenched his jaw in defiance of Buck's anger and glared at the hotheaded lawman.

"JD was shot in the BACK!" Buck shook with rage applying more pressure to Ezra's throat. "WHERE WERE YOU?"

Chris had told Buck that he had last seen JD taking cover with Ezra. To Buck's way of thinking Ezra was responsible. At least, that was the way Buck's rage-filled mind saw things when it came to anything related to JD Dunne. The memory of the slick conman running out on them at the Seminole Village vividly colored Buck's thoughts and fueled his fury. He needed a target for his anger and fear. At the moment, the self-absorbed gambler was a prime candidate.

"Where did you slink off too when you should have been watching JD's back?" Buck continued to scold.

Ezra was starting to feel lightheaded from lack of oxygen but turned pleading eyes toward Vin. Was JD dead? Was he responsible?

"He's still alive," Vin replied to the unspoken question, bowing his head.

"No thanks to you," Buck growled.

Struggling to breathe, and tired of the continued admonition Ezra impulsively released the mechanism that kept a derringer hidden in his sleeve. The small gun catapulted into Buck's gut. His growing resentment of Buck's abuse and his concern for JD pulled rank on his common sense. Ezra knew that the ladies' man could behave irrationally when it came to the young man, but he was tired of being the whipping boy.

"You better be prepared to use that," Buck snarled a sinister look darkening his eyes.

"What makes you think I'm not?" Ezra ground out.

Ezra shifted his gaze at the sound of a hammer being pulled back. His eyes narrowed as he stared down the barrel of Larabee's peacemaker. So, that's the way it is. He was on his own. The door had slammed shut once again. He would have laughed out loud if he had any air. What a fool he had been to think he could ever fit in with these men.

Ezra lowered his derringer. He had let JD and the others down, and the realization that he would never be a part of this group left him weak and vulnerable. He was an outsider and always would be.

"Buck, back off," Chris said finally. This had gone too far. He was surprised by the gambler's action. Did the man actually fear for his life? Did he believe that any of them would harm the other? Chris wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a look of despair on Ezra's face before it was replaced with his usual mask of indifference.

Wilmington slowly lowered his arm and stepped back, regarding the gambler with a withering glare. Chris holstered his gun. He hadn't meant to draw it, but sometimes deadly force was the only thing the others took seriously.

Ezra rubbed his throat and glared menacingly at the threat in front of him, at his supposed friend. Tension formed a wall between the two men, a wall that Buck broke through as he planted a fist into Ezra's stomach, doubling him over. Chris grabbed Buck by the arm and slammed him into the opposite wall.

Ezra fell to his hands and knees, gasping.

"I said that's enough, Buck!" Chris watched as Vin squatted down next to Ezra, grasping his shoulder

"You all right?" Even to Vin's ears, it sounded too little too late.

Ezra turned, meeting Vin's eyes. His expression is unreadable. "Just dandy, Mr. Tanner, get the hell away from me." Vin slowly stood. He didn't want to believe that Ezra could have run out on them again.

Buck glared down at the wheezing gambler. He had been so scared when he saw JD lying in a pool of blood alone in the street. He had thought the kid dead. How could Ezra have allowed this to happen? Where was he? Did the gambler actually take off to save himself when things got heated?

Nathan stepped out of the clinic and glanced momentarily at the crumpled conman. The healer wasn't sure what had happened, but anything that involved the self-seeking gambler was never good, at least, that's the way it seemed. Nathan still wondered why Ezra stayed after his thirty days were up. He figured Ezra was just biding his time until something better came along.

"How is he, Nate?" An air of apprehension colored Buck's words. The three lawmen crowded around the healer. Ezra finally got control of his breathing and slumped against the wall. He looked up from the wooden floor at the backs of the other lawmen forming a wall one Ezra was all too familiar with.

"I got the bullet out," Nathan replied. "I don't think anything vital was hit. Looks like it smacked into a rib and splintered it. He lost a lot of blood, but he's strong-I think he'll make it. Josiah is sitting with him."

An audible sign escaped everyone. Ezra bowed his head and thanked whatever deity watched over fools and young, naïve gunslingers. He slowly pushed himself up the wall. He knew he wouldn't be welcome in the clinic. Keeping an arm around his gut, he made his way back down the stairs. With each step he took, the distance between himself and the other six gunslingers grew, and so did the ache in his heart.

TBC