Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read the first chapter, and a special thank you to everyone who reviewed. I hope you all continue to enjoy.

As stated previously, I make no claim on this plot, or characters.

Judge Orrin Travis arrived just before noon the next day and insisted on seeing Standish immediately. Several of the lawmen accompanied him, curious as to why the southern gambler caused such a reaction in the normally composed man. As for the cardsharp himself, a day in the cell had done little to remove the spit and polish from him. He'd spent some time fixing his hair to the best of his abilities without his comb and a wash, taken a handkerchief to his face, hands and neck and used a corner of the blanket from the cot to bring a shine to his boots. As the door opened to admit the judge, he stood straight, gently tugging his shirt cuffs out from under his jacket sleeves and smoothing the imaginary creases from his finely brocaded waistcoat. His expression neutral and his face composed, he met with Travis' imposing stare calmly.

For a moment, the judge said nothing. Then, drawing in a slow breath, he came straight to the point.

"Have you heard of Camden McCallum?"

If he was surprised at the question, Ezra didn't show it. "The gentleman has come to my attention in passing."

"Then you're no doubt aware of his considerable land ownership and the fact he controls the beef market in north Kansas?"

"I've heard he's a most influential man."

Travis hesitated, studying the young man before him.

"Judge?" Restless, Chris shifted. "What's Standish got to do with McCallum?"

"He con some money out of him?" Buck pressed.

When the judge spoke again, it was directly to Ezra. "Camden McCallum Jr is missing, as of four days ago."

"I fail to see what that has to do with me," the southerner replied, softly spoken but firm, just as he had been when protesting his innocence in the Dupree matter.

"I'd like for you to find him."

"I fear you have mistaken me, sir, for a bounty hunter or lawman." Ezra smiled, letting twin dimples pop. "On this occasion, I believe Mr Tanner will be a far better bet than I."

"Lawmen I have," Travis replied. "And Mr Tanner would be accompanying you, naturally."

"You can't be serious," Chris hissed, glaring at the judge as Buck whistled in surprise. Travis ignored them both.

Ezra's large eyes narrowed. "Then what would you require my assistance for?"

Again, Travis hesitated. Then, nodding to himself as if deciding on a course of action, he met Ezra's gaze once more. "When I met you in Fort Laramie, your name was Simpson. Now you call yourself Standish. Which is your true name?"

"What's in a name?" the gambler smiled. "A rose by any other name, after all…"

Travis reached into his jacket, drawing forth a folded piece of paper from the inner pocket. "This is a pardon, young man. For the crimes you were initially charged with at Fort Laramie, and the subsequent escape from the jail I had placed you in to await trial. I require your name, so I may enter it on this document and remove any warrants out for your arrest."

Ezra's entire focus was immediately on the paper in Travis' hand. "Am I correct in assuming I will only receive that pardon if I assist in finding this misplaced individual?"

"Quite so."

"What possible use is a cheat and a liar going to be?" asked Nathan Jackson, town healer, lawman and so far, a silent witness to the conversation.

"He's observant," Josiah rumbled, watching Ezra intently, who merely raised a sardonic eyebrow in response.

For the first time, the judge turned to Chris. "I have been told in no uncertain terms to solve this matter as fast as possible. I want you as my representative and if needs be, you have my authority to protect yourself and the others – although I must stress I would like for there to be a trial if kidnapping or murder is involved. Tanner's tracking skills will undoubtedly be required but it appears to me that none of your men have what is most needed on this assignment."

"Oh?" Chris challenged, folding his arms and leaning against the bars, almost indifferent.

"What you require is a detective. Failing that, an agile mind and a penchant for seeing to the heart of matters and of men will suffice for this task."

Chris glanced over to the young southerner, who was listening with a small smirk. "And he can do that?"

"It's come to my attention that the boy has a certain way of looking at things," the judge allowed.

"And if he runs?"

Travis moved his imposing stare back to Ezra. "Then every marshal and sheriff at my disposal will know his likeness, and every bounty hunter in the territories will be given opportunity to take him in. The pardon will be rescinded and once I have him in custody I will try him for every scam, every barroom brawl and every wrong move he has ever made."

There was a tense silence as the words reverberated around the small stone jail.

"You have a wonderful sense of rhetoric," Ezra smiled. "Have you ever considered writing your memoires? I imagine they'd be a fascinating read."

"Will you take the deal?" Travis asked, curtly.

"If I fail to locate this younger McCallum? What then?"

"As long as Mr Larabee can give a good accounting of your efforts, I'll honour the agreement," the judge accepted reluctantly. "But I want to make it very clear I expect results, son."

Ezra frowned at the familiar disliked designation but bowed his head in agreement.

Travis turned once more to Chris. "He's your responsibility." With that, he strode past the rest of the lawmen and out of the jail, ignoring the amused and considering expressions on his peacekeeper's faces.

JD broke the silence left in Travis' wake. "Guess I should let 'im out, huh, Chris?"

"Guess so."

As JD moved towards him, shaking out the key ring to select the correct piece, Ezra stepped forward and gently nudged the cell door open.

"That won't be necessary, gentlemen," he noted, somewhat sheepishly.

Chris grabbed the boy by his arm, propelling him from the cell while Buck laughed uproariously in the background.

While the three men saddled their horses for the long ride to McCullum's spread and JD hurried to gather supplies for them, Nathan headed to his clinic, returning swiftly with a small satchel. Handing it to Vin, the healer made sure to meet his eye.

"Bandages, needles, thread, laudanum and some of my willow bark tea," he listed. "You boys make sure to take care of yourselves."

"'Preciate it, Nate."

"I mean it. I want that back same as I gave it to you, nothing used."

"What if we get shot?" Vin laughed.

"Don't." With a nod to Chris, Nathan headed back up the livery stairs to the clinic as Ezra appeared, leading the handsome chestnut he had ridden into town.

Coming to stand beside Vin, the horse took a bite at the tracker's Pinto, snorting when the other animal reacted with a buck and a snap of its own teeth, dancing nimbly out of the way and tossing his head.

"Now Chaucer," the gambler tsked as the two horses continued to eye one another. "We are gentlemen and gentlemen most certainly don't bite."

Also eyeing the fancy looking animal, Chris tugged the cinch tight on his own black. "That gentleman gonna be able to keep up?"

"Most assuredly." Ezra agreed amicably. "Chaucer has a strength of heart few men can boast of."

With a grunt that didn't much sound like he believed the kid, Chris called to Buck over his shoulder. "You got this?"

"Relax, ol' dog," the tall peacekeeper grinned. "Me an' the boys'll keep the town tidy 'til you get back."

"Better do," Chris agreed, shoving Buck's shoulder with a small smile. Swiftly mounting his impatient, stamping horse, the black clad gunslinger turned to the two younger men. "Let's ride."

"Happy huntin'," Buck grinned, slapping at Vin's leg as he rode by.

Ezra followed slowly. "Any parting words for me, Mr Wilmington?"

"You just keep yourself out of trouble, kid. Ol' Chris can get downright nasty when he's thinkin' someone's not playin' nice. Don't be thinkin' of skippin' out on him, either. He'll bring ya back tied over the back of that fancy beast o' yours."

"Perish the thought."

"Go on, now." Buck shook his head as Ezra treated him to a grin before kicking his horse into a gallop. Watching the red jacket disappear beyond the town limits, Buck wondered if he'd see the boy again.

Ezra kept a small distance between himself and the other riders throughout the afternoon, having no desire to draw Chris Larabee's attention. As he'd moved west, Ezra had heard of the man before he'd arrived in Four Corners – the snakelike swiftness and unflinching ability to hit his intended target had garnered a following of sorts and many locales boasted of one of his kills taking up space in their cemetery. Men whispered his name and recounted his actions in hushed, drawn voices, eyes flickering towards the shadowed corners of saloons as if in fear of finding Larabee listening in and taking offence. As such, Ezra had been surprised to learn from Four Corner's new sheriff that such a lethal, uncaring gunslinger had agreed to defend any town, much less the small, out of the way burg that had apparently housed him for nearly five months now. In Ezra's estimation, the town was only a step from blowing away as so many of the western settlements were in the habit of doing. It seemed they could only support their populace for a short duration before the dusty winds of change swept them carelessly aside and the people spread out, forming and joining new towns only to be dealt much the same hand. This desperate world was populated with empty homesteads and unburied bones.

For the life of him, Ezra couldn't understand the draw. The land was harsh and unforgiving, the weather either scorched your skin or froze the blood in your veins, the people were as tough as the soil they broke their backs on and no one had anything in the way of money. Lawlessness was rife, fear abundant, violence casual and still people packed up their families and moved west.

The young gambler had only journeyed this far himself from the larger cities he preferred thanks in large to his mother's machinations and the overwhelming need to escape her webs. It hadn't been the first time she had wheedled, demanded or tricked him into running a con with her, despite his insistence since age thirteen that he wanted nothing more to do with her plans and schemes. Somehow, she always found him. And it always ended in near disaster, for Ezra at least. And now, in his latest attempt at escape, he found himself following a man whose reputation stated he'd shoot you if he felt you so much as glanced at his horse wrong, while a territorial judge dangled a pardon before him, like a carrot in front of a donkey. Good lord, Maude Standish would laugh herself silly if she found out. Proof, she'd declare, that Ezra needed his mother's guidance still.

Shaking his head as if to dislodge the thought, Ezra turned his sharp mind to his task. If he could prove himself useful on this venture – and hadn't the honourable Judge Orrin Travis agreed he only had to be useful, not successful - the pardon would be his and he'd be free to leave Four Corners in the dust of Chaucer's hooves. Perhaps he'd venture on towards Santa Fe …

Ducking his head closer to Chaucer's neck in an effort to better avoid the debris kicked up by the three travellers, Ezra refocused on what he knew of the McCallum family.

Camden McCallum Sr had first made a name for himself during the war, earning admiration and respect and an invite into an ever more decreasing sphere of influence where money, land and water rights held sway. He'd found himself backers among an older generation who wanted to ride the coattails of an ambitious, popular man; he'd provide the drive and hard work, they the start-up capitol and in a shrewd piece of business savvy, McCallum had brought up a passable tract of land near Hays in his home territory of Kansas and set to making a profit.

And make one he did. Swiftly and by all accounts, surprisingly legally. He'd been able to buy out most of his silent partners and add to his land and now, six years after the cessation of hostilities, was a wealthy and significant individual in his own right. One whose eighteen-year-old son had gone missing, Ezra reflected, turning over the implications carefully.

His musings were halted as he spotted Vin returning from where he'd been riding ahead, scouting for a campsite, Ezra reasoned. It was approaching dusk and riding in twilight and darkness was an invite to tragedy; only the foolish and inexperienced attempted it and no matter what else his new companions were, they were neither.

Used to travelling alone, for a moment after entering the campsite Ezra used the excuse of seeing to his horse to scope out the other's actions. Vin had already ground tied his Pinto, Peso, and had disappeared again, likely to gather firewood or fill canteens as he would surely have found them a site near water. Chris, meanwhile, was gathering equipment in order to prepare a hot meal by the looks of it. Ezra frowned. Would he be invited to join or did they expect him to fend for himself? He didn't know the men well enough to tell.

Glancing over his shoulder, Chris relieved the pressure of deciding by pointing in the direction of the sparse trees to their right. "If you wanna eat tonight, gather up some firewood," he grunted. "Vin's scaring up some grub." Standing, he indicated northwest. "I'll be by the river."

So saying, he slung two canteens over his shoulder and held out his hand for Ezra's.

"Much obliged," the gambler offered, receiving another grunt in reply. Ezra made note of it. It seemed to be the man's preferred method of communication and he wasn't going to be caught out not knowing what Chris was indicating. Such tiny details had so often been the difference between capture and freedom, life and potential death.

Ezra set about his task quickly and had a cheery little fire going by the time Chris returned. Neither said anything but Chris' nod of approval struck Ezra by surprise and he found himself sitting a little straighter as he coaxed the flames bigger. Curious as to his own reaction, Ezra surreptitiously watched the older man as he stalked about the camp, spreading his and Vin's bedrolls on opposite sides of the fire in clearly an ingrained habit and further confirmation the two men had travelled together often.

Ezra's gaze flickered once more towards Chris, a man who in no uncertain terms was the leader of this outing and thus the key to Ezra's pardon. The part of Ezra that Maude especially loathed chaffed against the knowledge he had been unceremoniously placed under the gunslinger's guardianship for all intents and purposes, but to rebel now would be foolhardy. No, he'd let the man think him suitably demure and allow him the illusion of his hold over Ezra for the time being. They could straighten out the subject of Ezra's independence at a later date, the gambler decided. He hadn't allowed anyone to control him since he had grown big enough to fight back and he didn't intend to start now.

Still, there was something that kept bringing his attention back to Larabee. He wasn't anything like Ezra had pictured. True, he had a grim countenance, a little forbidding if the southerner was being honest – in the safety of his own mind at least – but he had seen the heavy expression lift into a few smiles and from his interaction with the other peacekeepers, he was clearly capable of forming friendships. Not exactly the lone wolf he had been made out to be, the terrifying agent of death men had feared to speak of.

Except … Ezra could quite clearly see the black clad man staring down an adversary with icy indifference in his hazel eyes. The image made him shiver a little and he quickly attended to the fire again, recalling Josiah Sanchez's comment about man's duality. It seemed Mr Larabee could be good to his friends and bad to his enemies. He wondered where that left those in between.

During the preparing and eating of their meal, Ezra settled enough with the two lawmen to allow his mind to return to his earlier thoughts and seek their knowledge.

"I'm familiar enough with McCallum Sr," he told them, once he'd explained what he wanted, watching them carefully. "But I'm currently at a disadvantage as to the son. Have either of you gentlemen any information that may prove significant?"

Vin shrugged laconically. "Depends on what ya think is significant."

"Pertinent?" Ezra tried. "Perhaps relevant to our mission?"

"Why'd ya wanna know?" Chris asked, leaning forward to catch his eye.

"It's not inconceivable that the younger McCallum has been kidnapped," Ezra reasoned, "not only for a ransom. From what I've heard, the father is as strong as an ox and not liable to depart this earthly plane any date in the near future, therefore waiting on an inheritance could take some time. Not a kidnapper's preferred schedule. Could they expect, then, vital information about the cattle baron's business or property?"

Chris scowled a little. "You got a nasty little mind, kid."

"Quite. That is why I've been requested on this excursion, is it not? To think of the things you wouldn't."

For a moment, it looked as if Chris was going to crack a tooth while he wrestled with holding himself back, before he nodded tightly in acknowledgement. "Don't know he'd be much use for information. Far as I know, the boy don't have any desire to learn his pa's business. Been a sore spot between them for a while, but it's not so bad now Camden's not causing such a ruckus."

"Indeed?"

Seeing Ezra's interest, Chris shook his head. "Ain't like that. 'Bout twelve months ago, McCallum threatened to cut his kid off if he didn't settle down some."

"Did the trick," Vin agreed. "He ain't put a hair outta place since."

"I find that hard to believe," Ezra commented. Noticing their surprise, he smiled. "A wild child doesn't turn over a new leaf overnight. You may trust my word on that, sirs."

Chris snarled a little. "This one did. Seemed he liked to roam and came close to Four Corners a couple of times. We ain't seen hide nor hair of him since we were appointed."

"Ain't no one reportin' nothin' from elsewhere, neither," Vin added, lazy Texan drawl sitting heavy on the air between them. "Even cut off ties with his pal, what's 'is name."

"Orso," Chris supplied. "Malcolm Orso."

Ezra shook his head. "Then there's something we're missing."

"Yeah. His name's Camden McCallum Jr," Chris growled, causing Vin to grin. "Enough yakking. Get some sleep, kid, we still got a long way to go in the morning."