Thank you to all readers, commenters etc, still greatly appreciated.

As always, not my plot. I'm following the pilot episode of Psych and using the characters and settings of the Magnificent Seven, so not my creations either. I am tweaking things here and there so it's not bit for bit exactly the same, but I'm not claiming this as my own.

Hope everyone continues to enjoy!

The next morning, the three men quietly rode north, searching for Camden's altered line shack. It didn't take them long to find it. Three times the size of the other one they had passed, it also boasted a large dog lying near the door, watching them approach.

"Henry, one presumes," Ezra smiled as the small group dismounted some distance away.

Checking his twin Peacekeepers, Chris shot him a look. "Mebbe you're right about this, kid, but 'til we know for sure, we're gonna take it careful."

"Certainly," Ezra agreed, patting the Remington on his right hip.

"Know what you're doing with that thing?"

"I'm correct in thinking the barrel points forward?"

"Jus' make sure you don't shoot one of us in the back," Chris snarled. "Shut up, Vin. Take the side door."

"Whatever ya say, cowboy."

Ezra's estimation of Chris rose as he proved he was, in fact, adept at stealth as they made their way to the line shack turned cabin. Gesturing for Ezra to stay down, Chris rose from his crouch to peer into the building. Watching all tension bleed from the older man, Ezra narrowed his eyes in suspicion. What was inside?

Chris opened the door, stepping over the threshold and Ezra slipped in beside him, just as Vin entered from the side door. All three stared at the two bodies lying on the floor.

With a sigh, Ezra holstered his gun and began to take in the surroundings. On the corner of the table was a small bloodstain and on the floor was a tin mug, the coffee that had once been inside spilled out into a stained mess. Crouching, he lightly brushed his fingers over it. "Dry," he commented, glancing up to look at Vin.

"Mebbe a day old," Vin answered his unspoken question. "Mebbe a day an' a half."

Ezra nodded his acceptance of the estimation and turned his attention to the bodies. The young blond man had blood caked at the one temple visible but no other visible injuries while the dark-haired boy had most certainly been shot in the chest.

"Self-inflicted," Chris muttered, glaring at the gun in the man's hand.

"Murder-suicide?" Vin frowned. "They had some kinda fight?"

"Looks like."

Ezra rose, surprised to find himself unhappy with the way things had turned out and headed back outside. The heavy smell of death wasn't one he was particularly fond of, nor did he care to become so. Henry met him, the dog pressing up against his leg in an effort to gain comfort and companionship from a stranger since his own friend no longer reached for him.

"Oh, hell," Ezra whispered, letting his hand stray to scratch the dog behind the ears. "I'm so sorry."

Henry turned liquid eyes up to him, as if expressing his own sorrow and Ezra got a good look at his muzzle for the first time. Small flecks of old blood dotted it and for a horrible moment, he thought the dog had gnawed on the people inside until the rational part of his brain kicked in to remind him there had been no such wounds on the bodies. Breathing a little sharply, Ezra forced himself to relax. Henry had probably been chasing the local wildlife.

Chris and Vin approached, shutting the door firmly behind them. Chris spared Ezra a quick glance. "Let's get going."

The ride back to the ranch was silent. Ezra had whistled to the dog as he mounted Chaucer and Henry had taken a while to leave his guard post outside the cabin but another whistle and a firm command to come had brought him to Ezra's side in time to follow them out.

Once back, Chris grimaced at seeing both McCallum and his daughter on the front porch waiting for them. Seeing the dog and no brother, Katarina cried out, fleeing into the house. Camden's dog shot after her. Grimly, Chris handed his reins to Vin and turned to Ezra, who had also dismounted and was preparing to face McCallum with him.

"Go with Vin," Chris instructed.

"I'd like to speak to Mr McCallum –"

"No."

Ezra paused to rein in his own temper. "I'd just like to-"

"C'mon, Ez," Vin interrupted this time, softly. "Ya don't wanna be here for this. Let Chris handle it." So saying, he gently pushed the young southerner towards the stable.

Caring for the horses, Vin kept his eye on the younger man. Ezra's normally nonchalant expression was firmly in place, but there was something in his unusual eyes and he wasn't chattering at that uppity, bad-tempered beast he claimed was a horse like he normally did.

"Ya gonna wear a hole in Chaucer's coat," he drawled.

Ezra blinked and automatically checked his horse's shoulder, as if expecting the animal to have stood patiently by and let him rub him raw. "Sorry, my friend," Ezra murmured, fingers drifting over the spot he'd been currying. The horse swung its elegant head around to him, settling it over Ezra's shoulder and looking for all the world like he was hugging the boy to him. Sighing, Ezra reached up and around and hugged the animal to Vin's surprise, resting his forehead on the strong neck. "It doesn't make sense," he muttered.

Finishing with Peso, Vin came closer, noticing Chaucer's rather flat look as he did so and held his hands up. It occurred to him to wonder why he was reacting as if the horse was going to shoot him if it felt he had bad intentions towards Ezra, but he'd lived long enough to just go with it.

"What don't make sense?" he tried.

Ezra freed himself from his horse's embrace with an affectionate pat. "This whole sorry mess."

"Reckon." Vin agreed. "Never easy ta see thin's like that."

Ezra grimaced and Vin paused. He'd guessed, living the way the boy did, that Ezra tended to outrun his troubles rather than kill them and that seeing the death of two young men had rattled him – it also occurred to the tracker that Ezra wasn't much older than the two dead kids – but he'd also taken on board what Travis had said about the southerner, about the different way his mind worked. He'd figured Ezra's thoughts ran on several levels all at once, that the boy was some kind of special in a way few people were.

"Sommat else?" Vin asked.

Surprise flickered briefly across the young gambler's face before disappearing beneath the calmness again. "Yes," he hedged, watching Vin warily.

Vin forced himself to relax further, slouching against the stall divider and giving Ezra his full attention, trying to look unthreatening but attentive. He took a guess. "Ya not sure Orso killed Camden?"

"No."

"All right. Convince me."

Ezra hesitated, meeting Vin's eyes and searching them for something. Vin allowed him to keep the connection for as long as he needed and eventually, Ezra came to a decision. "From all I've heard, Malcom Orso and Camden McCallum were inseparable. They'd known each other from childhood. They were … they were best friends, Mr Tanner."

"Vin."

"Quite. Could you kill your best friend?"

Vin thought over the question. His first instinct had been a very loud and firm 'no'; he couldn't imagine gunning down Chris, but there had been times in the last few months where they'd fought, where he'd have cheerfully strangled the man until his sense returned. "Tempers run high, mistakes get made," he shrugged. "Iff'n I hurt 'im, I'd be real remorseful too."

"You think Orso killed his friend and horrified, turned the gun on himself?"

"Mebbe. Seen a lot of thin's, Ez, an' not many of 'em make sense."

Ezra huffed. "No, I suppose not."

"But ya ain't convinced?"

"It's not what I'd do," Ezra confided. "If I was close to someone, I don't think I could… If I were Camden McCallum I'd run a long con."

"Camden ain't a conman."

"No?" Ezra raised an eyebrow. "He's a confirmed gambler, Mr Tanner, and you can take it from me that gamblers don't stick to cards. We gamble upon everything. We especially gamble that we can outsmart those around us and so become conmen of a sort. The stunts Camden's pulled only confirm this – he's a conman. Not particularly good, or well trained, but he's got the habits and instincts for it."

"So what'd ya do in his place?"

"I'd do exactly as I suspected Camden did. I'd convince my friend to go away for a while. I'd mend my ways, so that my father wouldn't be keeping such a close eye on me. Then I'd stage a kidnapping, await a ransom and ride away a wealthy man."

"An' there's the dog," Vin suggested.

"Exactly!" Ezra agreed, green eyes sparkling with a life that had been missing since the cabin. "If Orso was so angry at his friend, why'd he allow the dog to accompany them? He certainly wasn't mistreated."

"Don't reckon so," Vin nodded. "So, where's the money?"

"Believe me, I've been asking myself that question since we got here."

"An'?"

"It's eluding me at present," Ezra admitted, looking up at Vin as if expecting judgement, or disappointment or condemnation, the tracker thought.

"Ya a smart kid," he decided. "Reckon ya'll figure it out."

When Chris met them in the bunkhouse, all three were bleak. Vin and Ezra had decided to search the stables and two bunkhouses for what Ezra was now sure was the missing money. Finding nothing, they'd returned to the bunkhouse they'd been assigned, and Ezra had sat and gone through everything he had seen or heard since their arrival, trying to tie together all the loose ends. The bandage around McCallum's wrist; the fact he'd appeared already hopeless by the time they'd arrived; the length of time Camden had been missing before his death and of course; the money. The lack of it and an accompanying ransom note, and the utter rightness of it being involved. His mood had dipped lower with the sun and Vin had retreated to his own corner, giving the kid space to think.

"We'll head to the nearest town in the morning," Chris grunted as he smoked. "Wire Travis and get going home."

"I fear our task is not yet complete," Ezra cautioned softly.

"Boy's been thinkin' on some stuff," Vin added, watching the frustrated anger rise in Chris' expression.

"Boy's been thinkin' too hard," Chris snapped. "And he's been wrong. Malcolm Orso killed Camden McCallum Jr and there weren't any big ransom plan."

"Found us the kid," Vin protested.

Chris grunted. "Found us his body."

"He shouldn't have died," Ezra muttered, eyes distant.

"Yeah." Chris grimaced, calming down. "Look, kid, I'll tell Travis he can give ya the pardon. You held up your end of the deal."

"That's very kind of you, Mr Larabee, but we are not done here."

"The hell we aren't."

"Surely-"

"Surely nothin'! Turn in, we've got an early start in the morning."

Ezra looked like he had more to say, but he clamped his mouth shut. Briefly. "There's more to this."

"Damnit, Standish!" Chris threw the boot he'd just wrestled off clear across the room, hitting the wooden slatted wall with some force. "I don't want to hear another word outa you!"

Taking a deep breath through his nose in an effort to quell his own temper, Ezra held Larabee's glare for a moment before he turned on his bunk, effectively bringing the argument to an end.

They should have, Chris thought later that night, known the kid had given in too easily. He should have expected trouble, anticipated some stupid stunt. The gambler had been too sure they had missed something, too convinced McCallum Sr was hiding something and that his son had tried to play his old man. When McCallum and several of his men had escorted them from the property after the cattle baron had caught Ezra in his office, Chris had been hard pressed to find some surprise.

"What the hell were you thinkin'?" he growled now, about ready to haul him over to Santa Fe and drop him in the Judge's lap. Let him be Travis' problem, Chris was done with him. "You lookin' to get shot?"

"I was looking for evidence."

"You were lookin' like a damned fool!" Chris spat, pacing in an effort not to grab the little southerner and shake him until his teeth rattled. "I told you to leave it!"

"And I told you there's more to this. You don't think it's odd?"

"Only thing odd was Travis' decision to trust you on this! Don't know what the man was thinkin' but I'll tell ya now what a damn mistake it was!"

"Back up, cowboy," Vin cautioned, bringing the gunslinger's attention towards what he now realised was an unusually subdued gambler. "Let 'im speak."

Chris watched as Ezra grimaced, for the first time looking reluctant to offer his opinion.

"Ez?"

Head bowed, the kid peeked up through his eyelashes. "Did you happen to notice the bandage?" he asked softly.

"McCallum's right wrist," Chris agreed. "What about it?"

"Rumour's he took a knife to hisself," Vin added.

Ezra favoured him with a glance. "The war hero? The ruthless businessman? No, sir, I don't believe that."

"What're ya thinking?"

"I don't know," Ezra admitted. "I haven't quite fitted that piece of the puzzle yet." He sighed, shaking his head in frustration before meeting Chris' gaze head on. "Yesterday, did it strike you as at all odd that a father – a noteworthy warrior of many battles and last chances – admitted he had lost hope?"

Thinking back to his own murdered son and the tidal wave of despair that had only crashed upon him when he discovered the body, the irrefutable proof, Chris nodded sharply. "Man like McCallum don't give up easy."

"No," Ezra agreed. "He doesn't."

Vin shifted, crossing his arms. "What'cha reckon it means?"

"He knows," Chris answered darkly. "He's seen the kid. The body." He fixed Ezra with a hard look. "That 'bout right?"

"Yes sir. That is what I believe."

"Gawd damn it," Vin sighed. He sought Chris' eye. "This 'un's a real mess, cowboy."

"I'm afraid it gets messier," Ezra revealed, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his inner pocket.

Accepting it with a certain amount of resignation, Chris wasn't altogether surprised to find that it was the ransom note Ezra had been so certain McCallum had had to have received. It wasn't signed or dated, but it did detail what was required, where the money was to be left and mentioned Camden Junior. Lifting his eyes from the note, Chris rubbed his mouth. "What made you so sure?"

"A hunch, at first," Ezra said quietly. "But as we progressed, more details seemed to fit the narrative."

Vin shook his in wonder. "How'd you get it?"

"Let's just say there are times when a light touch is something of a boon. Mr McCallum was … forthcoming while he helped me from his study."

"He had it on him?" Chris grabbed the southerner by the lapels. "What the hell were you thinkin'?"

"That he was lying to us. Tell me, how did he react to our discovery?"

Chris slowly let the cardsharp go. Kid just refused to be cowed. "Figured he was in shock."

"What did he do? Say?"

"Nothin'. Just nodded."

"Think back," Ezra insisted quietly. "Picture his movements. His eyes, his hands, his stance."

"I don't-"

"It's important. Take your time."

Huffing out an annoyed breath, Chris took off his hat and raked his hands through his hair. He'd followed the man into the study. They'd faced one another. They'd locked eyes. "Was already prepared," Chris remembered. "Guess he put it together from how we came back."

"How do you know?"

"Was in his eyes."

"So he met you head on?" Ezra asked. "Kept eye contact?"

"Yeah," Chris agreed. "Mostly."

"When did he look away?"

Chris frowned. "I'd just told the man his son was dead."

"Yes, of course," Ezra waved him on. "But he already knew that. What did you say that made him uncomfortable?"

Once more Chris went through the short conversation. He'd been blunt, really. To the point. He didn't have much delicacy in his speech for all that he might have tried, and he'd read in the other man that he'd wanted the report as brief as possible also. He'd started with the hardest part, the fact that they'd found bodies. McCallum had swallowed, nodded uneasily, but his eyes had remained firmly on his. Next, Chris had explained where they'd been found, why they'd searched there and still McCallum had stayed with him. It was as Chris had brought up that Camden's dog had been waiting for them that McCallum had glanced away.

"The dog?" Vin echoed.

"Looked off to the side," Chris agreed.

"Aw Hell," Ezra breathed. He lightly touched his right wrist. "I think I know where he got that injury from."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Vin shook his head. "That dog knew 'im."

"That dog was loyal to a fault. No matter who was attacking Camden, he'd have tried to defend him."

"Why'd McCallum wanna kill his own kid?" Chris pressed. "Don't seem the type."

"No," Ezra agreed, thoughtfully. He cast his mind back to the cabin, drawing up a mental picture of the scene they'd found; on the corner of the table was a small bloodstain and on the floor was a tin mug, the coffee that had once been inside spilled out into a stained mess; the young blond man had blood caked at the one temple visible but no other visible injuries while the dark-haired boy had most certainly been shot in the chest. "Perhaps it was nothing more than a tragic accident."

The two older men shared a glance.

"Walk us through it," Chris said.

"We know Mr McCallum received a ransom note. We know father and son had been mending their relationship – or so the elder McCallum had believed at the very least. At any rate, McCallum Sr has a habit of stepping in and rectifying any problematic scenarios McCallum Jr finds himself embroiled in and no doubt, after a period of good behaviour, young McCallum felt secure in his estimation that his father would rush to his aid without any of his previous trepidation or bad humour. No questions asked, you might say."

"So he leaves with the money," Chris prompted. "Then what?"

Ezra shrugged. "Who can say? But something made him suspicious enough to check out his son's old hideout."

Chris ran a hand down his face. "And what? Temper got the better of him?"

"The scene does suggest a struggle took place," Ezra suggested. "The scuffle Mr Tanner was unable to locate outside the stable, during which we can surmise things got out of hand. An unfortunate blow to the head in such a location as Camden suffered, from the corner of the table …"

Vin nodded slowly. "Don't come back from that."

"Orso was a witness," Chris realised. "Silenced, then staged."

"How we gonna prove this?" Vin asked.

"We're not. We're gonna get to the nearest town, wire the Judge and let him sort it out."

Ezra wrinkled his nose in distaste. "It's been my experience that judges don't particularly enjoy supposition and theory."

"We got the ransom note."

"Which proves only that Mr McCallum wasn't as forthcoming as he possibly could have been."

"Damnit," Chris grunted. This was why he hated these types of jobs. They were going to have to find a way back in and get a confession.