CHAPTER ONE
Chris Larabee stood outside the restaurant with his luncheon companion and the woman who had, to his great surprise, stolen his heart. Mary Travis, the newspaper publisher and town leader, would one day marry the former gunslinger. As odd as that sounded to the man who now led the seven men who protected this town, the seven men who collectively were now famously known as The Magnificent Seven, at the behest of this woman's father-in-law no less, it had to have an equally unusual feel on the tongue of this beautiful woman. Things had changed in a big way during the last four years in Four Corners, not the least of which their relationship compared to that first, contentious meeting after Chris and Vin Tanner saved the town healer Nathan Jackson's life.
Four years ago, Mary would have told anyone she was close to that she would never marry again, that Stephen Travis, the love of her life and the father of her only son, had been the man of her dreams. No one would ever have been able to compare to what she had with him. She had been wrong, so very wrong. But she never, ever dreamed of a man like Chris Larabee.
"Will I see you for supper?" Mary asked. She knew, with Chris' responsibilities, that it was never a given that he would show up for an evening meal, they didn't plan them regularly because of that and the spoiled food it would cause, but she also knew that he seemed to make every effort to do so. She loved this man. She loved his relationship with her son, Billy. She knew how lucky she was to have such a good man loving her right back. And she was very lucky this night that the son who she loved with all of her being was in Santa Fe visiting with his grandparents.
"That's my plan," Chris said as he leaned down to give her a chaste kiss. He left a slight hint of things to come with a light swipe of tongue over her lips. She smiled at the feel and sighed at the tingle she felt elsewhere. He raised his eyes over her head and then frowned at what he saw over at the newly arrived stagecoach.
"What's wrong?" she asked as she turned in the direction of whatever it was that now had worry writ all over the handsome face.
"Are you expecting the judge?" Chris asked.
"No," she said as she walked hurriedly to the stage. Chris caught up with her and made sure nothing was coming either way up and down the avenue that might be a danger to the woman who, that moment, seemed to single-mindedly have one and only one focus. Why would Judge Oren Travis be here if Billy was visiting with he and Evie in the capitol of the New Mexico territory?
"What's wrong? Is Billy all right?" Mary asked as she hugged her father-in-law and he hugged her and kissed her cheek in return.
"He's fine. He and his grandmother are spending time in town while I take care of something." Normally, when Billy would visit with his grandparents, Evie and Billy would spend a good amount of time out at the Travis ranch in the far foothills of Sant Fe, along a tributary of the Pecos River. Oren Travis looked over to see his hand-picked choice to lead the men who would protect the town where his daughter-in-law insisted on raising his grandson, even after his only son Stephen was murdered there.
"Chris," Oren said as he reached his hand out to shake the lawman's hand. "Good to see you." Oren looked around at the town. He looked at Mary and then Chris again when he said, "The town is looking very nice."
"The town is fine, Oren. I don't think you're here to talk about the town," Mary said. "What's wrong?"
"I need to spend some time with Chris, Mary."
The pretty woman frowned, but her relief that this visit didn't bring bad news about any of her family allowed her an internal sigh of relief. "Of course. There's no one in the newspaper office right now. I have a meeting with the ladies in the room at the back of the Gem to organize for the harvest festival. I won't be back there before three o'clock. Would you want to speak there?"
"Thank you, Mary. That would be fine. Mary, before you go, could you give Chris and me a moment?"
"Certainly."
The two men walked toward the near-alley.
"Judge?"
"I need Standish to join us. Can we gather him for our meeting without anyone knowing that we're doing that?"
"Yeah, I can do that. I'll meet you at the paper." Chris walked over to Mary. "Thanks. I'm going to head into the saloon and get the judge some of that nice iced tea that Inez has been having. He's a little bit parched."
Mary looked toward where she saw her father-in-law heading to her office. "Is he all right? Maybe I should go … "
"No," Chris said. "He's fine. I just think he could do with something to cool him off. He said the trip was hot all the way through."
"All right. Would you mind if we change our plans for tonight, have dinner with him? I know he's not really my father-in-law anymore."
"Mary, you've said more than once that he means as much to you as though he was your father, not just Stephen's father. Of course, we'll spend as much time as you want with him." Chris looked toward where the judge walked down the boardwalk to the offices of the local newspaper, the now-daily that his son published before his death, but was now run by his daughter-in-law. "I get the feeling he's about to make me busy."
Mary smiled. "I'm sure you're right. I hope he rests here for a while to recover before going straight back to Santa Fe."
"We'll do what we can to make that happen," Chris said. "Have a good meeting."
"You, too."
Chris walked to the saloon. As he entered, he saw Buck and J.D. at a table playing a game with cards in a configuration that he didn't recognize. What the hell were they up to now? He saw Ezra at his regular table. The fancily dressed poker player looked up, recognized something about Chris' demeanor that had the card sharp raise his eyebrows, put him on alert. Chris shook his head slightly, letting the observant gambler know that everything was all right, but kept eye contact longer than normal. The tall blond headed over to the bar.
"What can I do for you, Señor Chris?" Inez Rocios asked, a smile coming to her face, warm and friendly, the opposite of what he saw as he walked up. But the pretty Mexican barkeep was accomplished at handling the riffraff, the cause for the less friendly expression, and turned her attention to Chris with ease.
"Everything all right here?" he asked.
"Of course. Buck and J.D. are here. It may not look like it now, but … "
"Ah, hell, J.D.!" they heard Buck yell. They turned to watch the ladies' man throw his remaining cards in the center of the table. J.D. laughed.
"What're they playing?" Chris asked.
"I have no idea. I think it might be a made-up game."
"Wouldn't surprise me."
"What can I get you?"
"Do me a favor. Can you put a bottle of the best whiskey you have with three glasses into a sack? And can I borrow Tommy for a few minutes?"
"If I may borrow Buck, you may borrow Tommy."
"That's a deal. We won't be long. Just send him to the back room and I'll meet him after I send Buck over."
"It will be just a moment."
"Thanks. I'll go get Buck."
"Gracias, señor."
"Oh, and can I get a glass of that iced tea? I'll be taking it with."
"Of course," Inez returned.
Chris walked over to the two card players. "What're you playing?"
"We don't know, Chris," J.D. Dunne answered.
"Haven't named it yet. Might not, the way this all played out," Buck added.
"Just because you lost doesn't mean it ain't worth naming, Buck."
Chris smirked. This was clearly not the first time they'd come up with a game that one or the other of them were unhappy with. They were quite the pair.
"Buck, can you go help out Inez for a few minutes? I need to borrow Tommy."
"Anything I can do to help?" J.D. asked.
"No. Tommy'll do. Go ahead, Buck."
"You bet, pard. Ain't much better'n spendin' time with a beautiful woman."
Chris smiled as he watched Buck swagger on over to the bar. He turned to J.D.
"You know what you could do? You could head over and spend some time with the new wanted posters? Vin and I haven't had time, and I know you'll be seein' the posters in the morning. But nobody else has been on duty." 'Hell, some of 'em haven't even been in town,' Chris noted to himself. Josiah Sanchez was into his second week out at the reservation. Vin Tanner was late coming back from spending several days helping Nettie Wells at her ranch. Nathan was out birthing a number of babies - it had been a busy time for babies - and Ezra was just returned from delivering documents to an outlying town for the judge, one of his first solo trips since Fred's passing. He'd spent a day on the way back playing in a small poker tournament, another first in Ezra's long period of mourning his lost canine companion. The leader of The Seven was surprised to see him at a table now, the gambler had to be tired. "Don't want to get too far behind on at least one of us getting a look at what's out there."
"Sure. Let me head over. It won't take me long." Chris knew that it wouldn't, J.D. had an amazing ability to memorize both the drawings of the faces and the descriptions of the perpetrators and their crimes. But more important than the young sheriff getting a look at the wanted posters was getting him away from the saloon so that he didn't see Tommy speaking with Ezra. Chris knew that Buck would miss entirely the interaction, so easily preoccupied he would be with the beautiful Mexican woman that he tried so hard to woo early on in her residence in Four Corners. After a good, long attempt, he knew he'd lost any chance at her once she lost her heart to Ezra Standish. As rocky as that relationship had been over the years, there was still no doubt that the gambler and the saloon manager were meant to be together.
"Thanks, J.D." Chris saw Tommy heading to the rear of the building. He followed, stopping to pick up the glass of tea that Inez set at the end of the bar for him.
"G'd afternoon, Mr. Larabee."
"Hello, Tommy. I need a favor."
"Sure, that's what I figured. How can I help? Oh, here," Inez' helper said, handing over the sack.
"Thank you. Tommy, I need you to go over to Ezra, lean in real close and whisper as low as you can to him. I need only Ezra to hear this. Can you do that?"
"Sure. What do ya need me to tell 'im?"
"Just tell him to head to Mary's and to use the alleys to get there."
"Sure, Mr. Larabee, but he'll need to cross ..."
"He'll know the best way to get there."
"All right. You don't want me to tell 'im it's you that's askin'?"
"He knows."
"Oh. All right. I'll take care of it."
"Here, take this." Chris pulled some coin out of his pocket.
"Naw, that's not necessary."
"You do good work for Inez. I know you've helped a lot over the last months while Ezra, well, in Ezra's place, when needed."
"I was happy to help. Miss Inez and Ezra, well … " Tommy stopped talking, looked down at his shoes, and then back up, continuing, "they mean everything to me." Chris saw the young man's eyes nearly pool with tears, but he held fast and managed to stop any drops from falling.
"Take it anyway, Tommy. I appreciate what you do here. And let me tell you a secret," Chris added. He stepped closer and whispered, "They mean the world to me, too."
Inez' dearly appreciated assistant smiled. "Guess I better go. Don't wanna leave Miss Inez stuck with Mr. Wilmington too long."
Chris smiled. "Nothing would make her think we didn't really care for her than if we left her with only Buck helping her." Tommy smiled, bigger than ever, knowing that he shared a secret with Chris Larabee. He headed back up to the front and the saloon. Chris took the rear exit and made his way to meet Judge Travis at The Clarion.
Ezra opened the door and saw Chris leaning up against Mary's work table.
"Mah, mah, that was quite a ruse you pulled off with young Tommy," he said as he closed the door … and found Judge Oren Travis sitting in one of the chairs beside the wood stove. It was not running, it was a warm August afternoon, but the chairs were quite comfortable. Ezra had more than once enjoyed their comfort while tutoring Mary months ago in how she might best satisfy her man. The thought of being in the presence of said man and of Mary's father-in-law brought immediate heat to his face.
"Mr. Standish."
"Judge Travis. What brings you to our fair burg?"
"Come on in, Ezra. Take a seat," Chris said as he poured a drink for the southerner. "Something wrong? You look a little flushed."
"Ah surmised that Ah should remain out of sight as Ah made mah way here. Ah was forced to divert a number of times around some buildings. And it is an uncomfortably warm day."
"That it is," the judge said, the empty glass beside him evidence that he'd enjoyed Inez' special blend of tea. "Sit, relax. Enjoy some of this excellent whiskey."
"That is a familiar bottle," the professional poker player said.
"Inez knows what you like," Chris replied with a wicked grin.
"Yes." It was true, on any given day, that Inez knew all about Ezra Standish's likes and dislikes. The question was, what would this day bring? Their on again, off again relationship remained as rocky as ever. If that fact didn't express clearly what fate had in store for them, nothing did. Their inability to sustain their relationship without time away from each other? It confused the southerner. It confused the fiery Mexican beauty, too. They were a perpetual work in progress.
"Well," Ezra continued, not taking the bait from his friend, "Ah ask again, Judge Travis. What brings you to Four Corners?" Chris frowned, sensing the disquiet in the former con man. "Is not your grandson in Santa Fe just now?"
"He is. He and his grandmother are spending some days in town while I made this trip."
Ezra nodded his head and then turned to Chris. "Is there a reason the judge is not answering mah question. Am Ah to surmise that Ah am in trouble. Heaven knows what Ah could have done to have earned your displeasure, suh. Ah have still … Ah have spent little time away from our village in, well, a while."
"I know that. How are you doing these days, Ezra?" Judge Travis asked.
Ezra Standish and Judge Oren Travis had a history between them. The judge placed him in jail, sometime before his appearance in Four Corners, but granted him bail in Fort Laramie some years ago, and Ezra thanked him for that kindness by jumping bail. The gamester's agreement to remain a peacekeeper in Four Corners for thirty days earned him a pardon from the circuit judge. Four years after that pardon, Ezra Standish continued his part-time duties as a lawman, and the two men had developed a level of trust that surprised most everyone who knew them both. The question, still, surprised the former conman.
"Ah am … bettah. Thank you for asking." The card sharp looked back and forth between the two men. "Ah have to say that Ah feel somewhat discombobulated by this conversation." He looked to Chris. "Am Ah in trouble?"
"No. Judge?"
"Ezra, I'm asking for more than about these last months. How are you feeling, since Mr. Jackson and the doctors you met in Denver figured out a treatment for you? Are you feeling well? I know you have some troublesome, persistent illness."
Ezra took a good swallow from his glass of whiskey. He raised his head and nodded and then said, "Those times seem a lifetime ago. Ah am quite well." The judge looked to Chris for confirmation. The leader of The Seven nodded his head in agreement with his friend. Ezra showed his annoyance, both in his face and in his next words. "It is a rather personal inquiry, if you do not mind mah sayin'. And certainly, you cannot mind mah askin', why are you askin'?"
"I apologize. I know it isn't my place. But I have a favor to ask, and I wish for only you two to be aware of the details of the story I have to tell. And after I tell it, I'll need you two to agree to keep what I tell you to yourselves. And I will need you to help keep two men safe who Evie and I have grown close to."
"Keep them safe. From what?" Chris asked. "And where?"
"Here." Chris looked like he was ready to interrogate the judge some more, but the older man raised his hand to stop him. "Let me tell you what I need. You might as well get comfortable, Chris. This story will take a bit of time."
"There's a more comfortable chair upstairs. Let me get it."
"So, Ah am not in trouble?" Ezra asked.
"Not this time," the judge replied.
"Ah can assure you, Judge Travis, that it would nevah be mah intention to evah get on your bad side again."
"Glad to hear it." The two men sat, waiting for Chris' return. "You are better, now? Enough time has passed … "
"It truly depends on the day, but most days, yes."
"Good," the judge said, sounding sincere, to Ezra.
"Good, what?" Chris asked as he set the chair down, grabbed his glass and the bottle, set the bottle on the wood stove and then sat down.
"Ezra tells me that most days are better for him now than they were … a while back."
"Yeah. And there is a whole town here who is now happy for that."
"Chris … " Ezra started, but Chris cut him off.
"That's all I'm saying about it, Ez. Now, judge, tell us the story."
"You know that Evie and I have a ranch up outside of town."
"North, along the Pecos," Ezra answered.
"That's right. We have had some trouble with mountain lions. We hired a couple of fellas that came highly recommended by friends of ours, Jake and Rachel Carlson. The fellas came a little over a month ago and they took care of those cats right quick. Had three cats killed within a week. They said they would stay on for another week to make sure they got all of them. It's the damnedest thing, that's the same number they killed for Jake and Rachel about a year ago."
"Guess they know what they're doing," Chris said.
"Joshua claims to have been a 'champeen tracker in all of southern Utah'. Every time he says it, and he says it a lot, his partner Thaddeus laughs. They are quite a pair."
"You like them," Ezra said.
"I do. Anyway, they stayed, no more mountain lions. But Evie wouldn't let them leave, said that Joshua was sick. He hid it well, I didn't see it. But she was right. They stayed one day too long to get out from her clutches. He's been sick ever since. Real sick. Doc in Santa Fe can't figure it out, neither could the doctor from Phoenix or the one from Denver."
"You had doctors come see this Joshua in Santa Fe?" Chris asked.
"I did, two of them. The other I've had our doctor in Santa Fe reach out to him by the telegraph. I had to. The boys say they have a friend who is a healer, more like a doctor's assistant. He's working in Denver now, but he and his wife got married that same weekend that Joshua and Thaddeus came to the ranch to hunt the lions. They've been on an extended honeymoon. They're due back next week, but Joshua's been running hot and cold, mostly hot, for too long. Some serious issues, equilibrium trouble, ringing in the ears that is driving the poor boy mad. Other troubling symptoms. I thought that maybe Mr. Jackson and maybe the folks out at the reservation might have some ideas."
"Can he travel?" Ezra asked.
"I don't see how traveling here will hurt him any more than he's already suffering. If we can get him some relief … I am very worried for him. Evie is waiting on my telegraph to say it would be all right for them to come. Is Mr. Jackson here?"
"Yeah. Well, not today. He's out at the MacGregor's. He's checking on the newborn he delivered last month," Chris answered.
"He should be back in town just after suppertime. Ah cannot imagine that he would deny this gentleman his assistance, but Nathan would be the first to tell you that he is no doctor."
"Ezra, no doctor has been able to help Joshua so far. I believe we need to think about this from a different set of eyes. I cannot let this young man die. Evie will not have it. I have to say that I agree with her."
"Then let's get over to the telegraph office and send your wife the go-ahead," Chris said as he and Ezra rose from their seats.
"Sit down. There's a … " Judge Travis cocked his head and twisted his neck. It made a loud cracking sound. Ezra and Chris looked at one another, sat down in unison, crossed their legs in a similarly harmonious manner, and then the judge continued. "Let's call it a complication."
"A complication?" the card sharp asked.
"I'm not gonna like this, am I?" Chris asked.
"You'll survive. And I need you two to keep this to yourselves. I don't want Mr. Jackson to have any reason to not do his best."
"He ain't like that," Chris said as he looked to Ezra. The look they shared said that maybe one of them had cause to feel differently about that, a long time ago. Chris offered a sad smile.
"Mistah Jackson always does his best which, as you know, is often well beyond what many doctors would have been able to do. Ah can vouch for this." Judge Travis nodded as Ezra continued, "Of course you know this or you would not be here."
"I do. And Thaddeus and Joshua feel that their friend would be an asset to this team we are putting together to help Joshua." Ezra 'hmm'd' and the judge countered, "What?"
"Well, it might work to have the doctors who helped me in Denver join forces with Nathan and the medicine men at the reservation and this … does this, what do we call him, physician's assistant friend of … " Ezra smiled and asked, "do your friends Joshua and Thaddeus have last names? And the name of their friend?"
"What're you doin', Ez? You lookin' to have Mary do some research on these names? Judge's word not good enough for you?" Chris asked with a wry grin.
"He won't need to do any research; I am not through with my story. Their friend is Joe Martin. Joshua's last name is Smith, Thaddeus' is Jones."
"Mistahs Smith and Jones?" Ezra said with a hearty laugh.
"I'm definitely not going to like the rest of this story, am I?" Chris asked as he looked Oren in the eye.
"No. Those are aliases."
"And why would these fine men who have charmed the lovely Evie Travis and the formidable and nearly impossible to fool Judge Oren Travis require aliases?"
"I need your solemn oath that you will keep this to yourselves."
"You make it hard to say yes to what you're asking, judge. Seems to me it would be easier on everyone in this town if we said send them on somewhere else. We're responsible for the safety of the citizens of this town, including your daughter-in-law and grandson," Chris noted seriously.
"I am aware of your responsibilities in this town, Chris. I hired you."
"Very well, gentlemen. Judge, please continue. Tell us what you undoubtedly wish you did not need to tell us."
"Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones are Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry."
"Hell," Chris said as he leaned his elbows on the arms of the chair and placed his head in his hands.
Ezra said at the same time, "Good lord!"
The judge watched as each man absorbed the revelation. Chris shook his head in his hands, then rubbed his forehead. He finally raised his head, ran his hands through his hair, and stared at Oren. Oren stared right back. Ezra had his right hand to his mouth, his elbow resting on the arm of the comfortable chair, his eyes fixed out the glass of one of the front windows. He turned his head to Chris.
"This is going to be a problem."
"Why?" both Chris and Oren asked at the same time.
"J.D."
"Oh, hell. That's the least of my concerns."
"It should not be," Ezra countered. "He will recognize them."
"How?" the judge asked. "There are no known photographs of them, no good drawings. The wanted posters have been notoriously poor at helping to capture them."
"And that's my problem, judge. They're wanted men. They're wanted dead or alive," Chris argued.
"Though one wonders about the 'dead or alive' facet when these men have nevah killed anyone, let alone shot anyone, while committing their crimes," Ezra said.
"I don't think that matters to bounty hunters. If it gets out that they're here then every yahoo bounty hunter and would-be bounty hunter will be heading this way."
"And that's why you two have to keep this to yourselves."
"Chris, our problem is not bounty hunters. Our problem is right here in Four Corners. And its name is J.D. Dunne."
"Damn it, Ezra. I know."
"I've had Thaddeus grow a moustache. That helps with him and he likes to wear it because he knows Joshua hates it. Joshua, well, he's a bit gaunt these days. And he says that when he doesn't have to be living away from civilization that he prefers a more civilized way of presenting himself. I can't force him to stop grooming."
"A man after mah own heart," Ezra said with a smirk.
"I promise not to tell Inez," Chris offered.
"Ah doubt it would mattah." Chris frowned again, but Ezra shook his head and nodded toward the judge.
"We would need to convince him to grow in a beard or some mutton chops," Ezra suggested.
"All right." Judge Travis stood. "I think we know what needs to be done. I'm heading over to let Evie know that she should let the boys go."
"Wait a minute, I haven't actually agreed to this," Chris complained.
"Certainly, you did," Ezra said.
"Sure, you have," the judge said at the same time.
"Judge's word not good enough for you?" Ezra reminded Chris, said jokingly as he used Chris' words against him.
"Both of you, get away from me," Chris said as they all headed for the door. "I'll see you tonight for supper, Judge."
"I'll be there."
The judge walked out and Chris said, "Ezra, give me a minute?"
"Certainly."
"Is there something wrong, with you and Inez?"
The gambler looked to the floor but then raised his head. He swiped his thumb over his lip and said with the familiar fake smile, "Nothin' that has not been wrong before between mahself and the lovely lady. But now is not the time for discussin' it."
And Ezra walked swiftly out of the building.
"Ya'll right there, Ezra?" Buck Wilmington asked as he sat down at their regular table. Ezra appeared in deep thought, his glass of bourbon sitting before him, hardly touched, the bottle freshly opened. "Mind if I join you?"
"Be mah guest, Buck," the southerner said.
"Some of this, too?" the town Lothario asked with a wiggle of his eyebrow.
"Yes."
Buck frowned. "You feelin' all right?" the kind man asked as he put his hand to Ezra's forehead.
Ezra pulled his head back from the intrusion. "Ah am fine."
"I don't know, hoss. You seem a little off."
Ezra turned and looked up into the tall lawman's eyes. He smiled and cocked his head and then he lowered it again as he stared at his drink. "Ah, well, today is one of those days where if Ah am not distracted by somethin', memories begin to impose their will upon mah mind." Also, mah heart was left unsaid.
"Thinkin' about your little dog?"
"Don't, Buck. Please," Ezra said as he blinked fiercely.
"I'm sorry, Ez. I didn't mean … "
"No," Ezra said as he patted Buck's forearm. "You did nothin' wrong. Ah … Ah simply cannot speak of it, not heah."
"All right. Well, you said if you weren't distracted, let old Buck use his special skill at distractin' ya."
The man in the fancy aubergine jacket laughed and said, "You might wish to adjust your phrasing, Buck. Ah recognize that the locals would know not to take your offer the wrong way, but visitors might not act so kindly at the suggestion."
Buck looked around, not the least bit surreptitiously, then smiled and said, "I'm not worried. They can think what they want. And I was just thinkin' maybe a game of cards."
"Poker?" Ezra asked. "Ah thought you were on sabbatical from playing poker with me?"
"If you mean I'm still takin' a break from playing poker with you, I am. I thought I could show you this game that J.D. and me come up with."
"You have worked up another card game? How many is this now?" The professional poker player took a draw from his shot glass. A hardly audible 'mm' was followed by the man downing the rest of his drink and pouring himself another one.
"I don't know. A few. But this one I think is a winner."
"Did you win when you played J.D.?"
"No. I think he cheated."
"You think he cheated on a game you were in the middle of developing?"
Buck squinted at the question, annoyed. But then he shrugged his shoulder and said with a knowing smile, "I guess not."
"Do you think that maybe your efforts to create a new card game are not likely to bear fruit? Ah should say, are you expectin' this card game diversion to bear fruit, or is it simply a way for you to while away the hours between crime fighting and your romantic interludes?"
Buck looked at his friend, happy that he was able to divert Ezra from his earlier sadness. Buck had seen Ezra more often able to beat down those feelings these last weeks, but he wasn't over losing little Fred. It wasn't likely he would ever be. But he was getting better, that was for certain.
"Well now, Ez, does it really matter?"
"Ah suspect J.D. knows the truth of it. And it certainly is not for me to say whether it matters or not. But rather than play your game, which is not yet a finished product, why not join me for some poker? Indeed, so that you will remain flush enough to buy this evening's paramour a libation or two, we'll make it penny poker."
"You're on."
"Vin, would you wish to join our game?" Ezra asked.
"Hey, how'd you know he was behind you?"
Vin Tanner stepped up to the table. "Hell, Buck, you were throwin' tells right and left."
"Was not."
"You were," Ezra insisted.
"Like what?" Buck challenged.
"Now Buck, you are well aware that lessons will cost you extra. As well, they must be offered as near before your next rendezvous with a lovely lady as possible."
"Why's that?"
"'Cause you ferget about everything once you've taken, um, care of, uh, that."
"Eloquent as ever, Vin."
"Shut up, Ezra."
"Yeah," Buck added.
Ezra snorted a laugh and smiled at his companions as he shuffled the deck he pulled from his pocket.
"Mary, that was delicious," the judge said about Mary Travis' famous beef stew. It was the meal she planned to serve her man this night before they took advantage, again, of her son's absence from town. But with the judge visiting there would be none of that to look forward to. Her father-in-law usually stayed with her when he visited without his wife. "Now, Chris, will you walk me to my hotel?"
"Hotel? But you will stay here. You always stay here." Mary insisted.
"No. Chris and I have some more to discuss. And you and Chris should take advantage of that precocious boy of yours not being here."
"Judge," Chris started, but the old man raised his hand.
"No. I know that I interrupted something today when Mary already had her best dish in the oven. Mary, I'll see you for breakfast?"
"Of course you will." The beautiful woman with the dazzling smile walked over and kissed her father-in-law and gave him a loving hug.
"I won't keep him too long."
Mary smiled as the two men she loved so dearly left the kitchen and headed out the back door to take a quiet walk through the alleys to the Gem Hotel.
"I'm taking the stage tomorrow."
Chris stopped walking and turned to the well-respected jurist. "You're not going to be here when they get here?"
"No. I think enough people are wondering why I showed up here. Enough of them know that my grandson is in the place I just left."
"You should just stop in to visit with the local sheriffs in the layovers. We already told Mary that."
"I think it's best I'm not here. You should know that the boys have an agreement with the governor of Wyoming. If they remain out of trouble, the governor will grant them amnesty."
"He's going to give Hey … " Chris started to ask incredulously, but Travis cut him off.
"They are Smith and Jones. Keep your voice down."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because the fellas have an advocate, Sheriff Lom Trevors, up in Porterville. He used to be in the same line of work as these boys who cleared those mountain lions," the judge said, wanting to give anyone who might be nearby who might possibly overhear the conversation a little misdirection. "And it's not just me and my friend Jake who have hired them for that work. I found out they also did some work, not catching cats, for an old friend in Austin, but Joshua got sick there, too. Not the same thing as this. He was one of five men shot where Jake lives, the only one to survive."
"This Smith fella seems to be on a streak of bad luck," Chris said.
"So it seems. Anyway, Sheriff Trevors convinced the governor that these two were on the up-and-up," he said quietly. Chris was hardly able to hear what was being said. "And I can vouch for their work ethic and innate decency. They are kind men, hard workers, polite, damned funny. Good company. Evie doesn't want them to leave, even though she knows she has to let them go, for Joshua's sake."
"All right. Is there anything else I need to know?" Chris spoke softly, not wanting their conversation known to anyone who might be lurking about.
"I'm sending them up to Durango and they'll come in from that direction. I'm having Jake Carlson send a telegraph to you tomorrow letting you know that he asked me if it would be all right if he sent the boys down. I told him Ezra had been taken care of with some difficult symptoms. Jake and Rachel care for those boys as much as Evie and I do."
"And they know who they really are?"
"They do."
"When are they supposed to get the amnesty?"
Chris could barely see but just faintly hear the judge shake his head, his day's worth of stubble rubbing against his jacket. "Well, it's been over a year that these two have been working legal work, when they can get it. Smith is good at poker. Real good. But they insist on not remaining long in one place. They don't want to risk danger or other trouble on the people they've met and come to care about, either from outlaws or zealous bounty hunters. It's a hard life. And it chews into their savings."
"What's the governor waiting for?"
"I don't know, neither does Trevors."
"It's got to be frustrating."
"Discouraging. Once Joshua recovers, I'm going to look into their situation."
"Will you have any sway up there?"
"I don't know. I have to try. I can guarantee you that Evelyn Travis will kick me out of my own home if I don't make a good faith effort to help her boys."
"It's like that, is it."
"It is. But I have to tell you, it had been a long time since I'd been able to be a father, until you fellas came along." They turned down the alley between Gloria Potter's mercantile and the bank. "I like how it feels. I want this young man healed. I want them to get the amnesty they were promised. I want them to traverse the country without fear of bounty hunters who are more inclined to bring them in dead rather than alive."
"Well, we'll do what we can to help them."
"And remember, you need to keep their identity a secret, even from Mary."
"Just Ezra and me. Nobody will hear about who they are from either of us. Maybe I can send J.D. on a mission. You have anything you need him to do?"
Oren Travis smiled. "Enjoy your night."
"Oh, Oren, are they supposed to ask for me?"
"Ezra. He's the one with all the experience with health concerns. He can introduce them to Nathan. Say that I sent them from a friend. Now go on, have fun." The smirk was easily noted.
Chris smiled, blushed, though Travis wouldn't be able to see that, and wished the circuit judge a good night.
"These two from California have been wanted a long time. This is a new wanted poster," J.D. said to Buck. "Says they have another murder they're wanted for."
"These outlaws, once they get a taste of killing, they don't care if they have to do it again, J.D.," Buck said as he thumbed through the posters once the sheriff made his way through each one. "Figure they're guilty of the first one if they're wanted for others."
"Well, they ain't guilty 'til they're found guilty, Buck. These two from California are wanted for robbing banks and trains and injuring lots of innocent people in the streets this time, not just people in the bank."
"Sounds like there's plenty of witnesses. Think they're guilty, Kid."
"Maybe. Look, here's another poster for each of these two. Descriptions are still no better than before. No sketch. Still."
"Now these two I would not call guilty until they had a trial," Buck said.
"Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry?" J.D. asked. "Come on! They've been wanted a long time. And look," he said as he waived Hannibal Heyes' wanted poster in front of his friend's face. "They're still wanted dead or alive."
"That don't mean they're guilty. Besides, how do you have a wanted poster for those two in California that just says 'Wanted' and posters for these two that say 'Wanted: Dead or Alive'? Heyes and Curry have never shot anyone. Those in California are wanted for murder. It makes no sense."
"Different territories have different rules, I guess, for what they think people are worth."
"No. There's banks and train owners who are able to get the rules bent. That's what's goin' on with Heyes and Curry," Buck surmised. "Wyoming's small and those men with the big bucks are passing it to the law and gettin' what they want put on those posters."
"You could be right, but that ain't right. If they haven't killed anyone, or hurt someone real bad or kidnapped people, I don't think their poster should say dead or alive. They must be running for their lives," J.D. said.
"Yeah. Once you become an outlaw, J.D., no matter what ya did, sometimes ya end up paying higher consequences than you ever planned. Best remember that, Kid," Buck said as he reached to swipe J.D.'s bowler hat from his head. The young easterner was faster than his older friend and moved quickly out of the way of Buck's long reach. He immediately pulled his hat from his head, stood and ran to the door. He yanked the door open and just missed getting his shirt in Buck's fist.
"Get on back here, boy!" the former Texas Ranger said as he chased his best friend down the avenue.
"Ah guess it's mah turn to review the wanted posters," Ezra said to Chris as the two 'children' on their team made their way down the avenue. The gambler looked at his pocket watch and found that he was five minutes early as he and Chris watched Buck and J.D. finish their shift ahead of time.
"Guess so."
A few hours later, Ezra walked up onto the boardwalk in front of the jailhouse and joined Chris in the open seat under the overhang.
"Could it be any hotter?" the former conman asked as he removed his handkerchief from his pocket, removed his hat and then proceeded to remove the sweat from his forehead. He rubbed the cloth into his hair, just enough to catch the drip that would have streamed between his eyes and onto his nose.
"It's pretty bad. You know, you don't have to wear your jacket," Chris suggested.
"Today Ah do. Ah have to meet the new arrivals on the stage. Judge Travis' friends are arriving today, am Ah right?"
"Supposed to. It's good that you have a pattern of meeting the stagecoach for fresh pickins."
"Your phrasing lacks couth." Ezra sighed.
"You okay?"
"It is terribly hot. If Ah did not have a role to play, Ah would retire to mah room so that Ah might strip every stitch of clothing from mah person."
"Once they arrive and you get Smith over to Nathan, you can remove that jacket, roll up your sleeves. You'll feel better."
"A nice, leisurely swim would make me feel bettah. Anything short of that … " Ezra trailed off as he first heard and then saw the faint trail of dust in the distance. There was a swimming hole not far from town, always full to the grass at the edge, filled from a deep, natural spring. There was no hope the card sharp could make it there on this day. The thought of all of that dust from the stage settling on his sweaty person was making him feel ill.
"You feelin' okay?" Chris asked again.
Ezra sighed, again. "Ah am simply unhappy with the weather."
"I can meet them."
"No."
"One of us always meets the stage when you're out of town."
"Ah know, but we should stick with our routines," Ezra said. "Did you come up with a way to keep J.D. busy?"
"No."
"That is unfortunate."
"Yep. Stage should be here any time, if it's on time."
"It is a hot day for travel," the southerner said as he undid his cravat, unbuttoned his shirt and ran his damp handkerchief around his neck.
"That's true. There aren't any rooms available on the ground floors of any of the hotels or the boarding house."
"Ah have procured accommodations for our friends."
"You have?"
"Ah spoke with Ben and Dottie Pike. Ah told them acquaintances of the judge are coming to town and that one of them was hoping to have Nathan help with a lingering illness."
"No stealth story there, Ezra."
"Ah do not believe the judge wanted us to develop some elaborate story. He simply wishes for these men's real names to remain unknown. Do you recall that Dottie and Ben purchased the building on the south side of their store?"
"Yeah. Oh, yeah, they only have opened up that little bakery in the front section. The room to the back is being used for storage right now."
"Very little of it. They and Tommy have set the space up for Joshua and Thaddeus. Ben installed their own out house behind that building last year, on the far side, away from most of the garden, as well as the one to the rear of their charming new abode. Ah wonder if they are planning to rent the room in the back out; ready facilities would be welcome by a renter." Ezra looked south along the avenue and said, "Hm."
"Hm, what?" Chris asked. The part-time lawman didn't answer. "Ezra!" Chris called.
"Mah apologies. Did you ask me something?"
"Yeah, you said 'hm'. Why?"
"Ah did? Ah was wondering if Mistahs Smith and Jones would like a refreshing bath to help cool them off after their travels. Ah will check with them upon their arrival."
"That's what the 'hm' was about?"
Ezra stood. "Ah believe the stage has arrived." Chris turned to look to the north end of town.
"There's no stage."
"If you say so," the man who was dressed too fancy for the weather said as he rose, re-buttoned his shirt, tightened his cravat and headed toward the stagecoach office.
"Why waste the energy standing around waiting when you can rest in the shade here?" Chris stood to catch up with his friend.
"You should continue about your business, Chris. These men will be on alert as it is. Despite the years spent in this place, where you have fallen in love, enjoyed the camaraderie of your fellows and generally had the opportunity to, how shall Ah say, calm yourself down, your manner remains intimidating. And," Ezra added in a near whisper, "they are wanted men. You will look at them askance, whether you think you are or not."
"I don't do that." Ezra let go a huge laugh, which ended in a snort. "I don't."
"Please leave," the poker player demanded.
"Fine. But I need to see them, sometime today."
"So long as you do not insist on keeping them too long, and do not meet with them in the jail." Ezra stopped and looked at the leader of their law enforcement group. "Goodbye, Chris. Ah, do you hear that?" the man from the South asked, his hand cupped to his ear.
"Shut up, Ezra."
Ezra reached the stagecoach office just as the stage pulled to a stopped. The first man off the stage was a light-haired man with a mustache. Thaddeus Jones, based on Judge Travis' description. He had a fancy gun in a tied down holster on his right hip. He wore a pretty blue shirt, a brown hat with nicely designed silver all around the crown. He had his jacket, a brown, well-worn leather, folded over his left arm. He turned to look into the carriage and watched the dark-haired man make his way down the step. Judge Oren Travis was not wrong. Gaunt was the first word that Ezra came up with to describe the man. That was Hannibal Heyes? Ezra knew he had more than once displayed his ill health for all to see in this town. He hoped Nathan could figure out the man's problem. He looked like hell.
"Mistah Jones, Mistah Smith?" the card sharp asked. Heyes and Curry turned toward Ezra, Heyes bumping lightly into his partner.
"Sorry," the darker one said. He also wore a blue shirt, not as brilliant blue as his partner's. Neither man wore a vest, and Heyes also had his jacket draped over his left arm, a dark gray cloth with an impressive thick-ribbed corduroy collar. He held his hat in his hand, a handsome black Stetson with a leather band adorned in silver. It had seen better days, the crown showing wear on the felt that seemed very near to a hole. His gun was less impressive, still quality, and he wore it similarly to Curry. Curry reached past his friend and grabbed the two rifles from inside the coach, both in carriers. These men understood quality, in their haberdashery and their armaments, even if it all seemed to be showing the effects of age and wear.
"I'm Thaddeus Jones, this is Joshua Smith."
"Ah am your greeting party. Ezra Standish, at your service. Welcome to Four Corners, gentlemen."
"Thanks," Kid said.
"You gentlemen look tired."
"In order, dirty, thirsty, tired, hungry," Joshua said, "except you can move hungry up to the top of the list for my partner."
Ezra smiled. "We can take care of all your needs. Do you have bags up top?"
"Here they come, Mr. Standish." Ezra turned to catch the two saddlebags, one carpetbag and two bedrolls. "Thank you, Mistah Horton." The young man jumped down and Ezra handed him a coin.
"Thanks, Mr. Standish."
"Have a good day," he said to the young man working to unload the stagecoach.
"Are you familiar with our town or region?"
"We've worked a lot of places in the west, but mostly farther north. We've done some work in Texas," Kid answered.
"We haven't been here. Nice town," Heyes said.
"It was nothin' like this four years ago. Our town has blossomed in the desert these last years, in population, importance in the territory, and in all ways flora."
"Pretty town for a desert town."
"Mistah Jones, we are fortunate to have decent access to water and far more rain than one might expect in the high desert. Now, would you like to drop your things in your room?"
"That would be nice. Which hotel do you recommend?"
"We have made other arrangements for you. Follow me." Ezra said as he walked down the boardwalk, pointing out the important places that he felt would interest the newcomers. "Mistah Gordon is our resident barber. He is excellent, if you can catch him when he is not visiting one of his daughters, all four scattered far enough from heah that Ah have come to look like you more than once, Mistah Smith."
"I admit I haven't felt much like getting in a barber's chair lately," Heyes said as he walked right close to The Kid, not desiring an unsteady step leading to an unsteady fall.
"Ah meant no offense. And Mistah Gordon is in town now. How we managed to have our last barber constantly removed from town to visit his daughters and now we have a fine gentleman with four daughters." Ezra turned to look at Joshua and frowned at what he saw, the man did not look well. "Ah feel certain he would not mind making a call to your domicile for your stay in our dusty burg."
"I'll think about it."
Leaning in and lowering his voice, Ezra said, "It might be best to allow everything to grow a bit more, so that your appearance allows you to remain inconspicuous."
"You're probably right. I run the risk of going insane if I can't clean this all up at some point."
"Understood. Let us continue with our small tour. The two saloons in town are opposite one another. One wonders how that happened, but it has not changed since we all arrived four years ago."
"We?"
"Yes, there are seven of us who maintain the law in this town. Seven more disparate men you could not dream of, yet here we are, keeping the peace and encouraging more families to join us in our growing frontier town."
"Seven? Joshua … " Kid Curry said to his partner.
"The Magnificent Seven?" Hannibal Heyes asked.
"That dime novel in the hotel," Kid added.
"Yes," Ezra confirmed. "A publication we frequently are asked about."
"Sorry," Heyes said.
"No, no. It is now simply a fact of life. None of us are burdened by it, at least not anymore, as the publication date is now on three years distant."
"There's six hotels in town and we're not staying in a hotel?" Kid asked.
"No. We have set up a space for you, nearby the clinic, behind one of the newest businesses in town, a bakery run by the family who run the general store, over there on the left."
"Lots of trees," the darker haired outlaw said, his breathing sounding harder than it should for a man hovering at later twenties, thirty tops, if Ezra guessed correctly.
"It is a lovely corner. Ah believe you will enjoy comfort and quiet. Nathan's clinic is up above the livery," Ezra said as they passed by the in-town stables. He pointed up to their right.
"Interesting place for a doctor's office," Kid noted.
"He is a healer, though by rights, he should be a doctor."
"Why isn't he?"
"He is a former slave."
"He's a Negro?" Heyes asked.
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
"No, not at all. Believe me, I would submit to anyone to get this resolved." Joshua reached for his kerchief and swiped with obvious frustration at the latest sheen of sweat that had accumulated on his face just since walking from the other end of town. Ezra noticed the man rub at his forehead gently. A headache. The card sharp could sympathize.
"It is a very hot day today, Joshua. I was just complaining to Chris only a few moments before your arrival of what a miserable hot day it was."
"Then why are you wearing that jacket?" Kid asked.
"Because mah mothah taught me too well that appearances are everything."
"I would say that she taught you wrongly." The voice came from the boardwalk near the bakery.
"No doubt the truth," Ezra agreed with the newcomer. "Gentlemen, Chris Larabee. Chris, this is Joshua Smith and the one with the moustache is Thaddeus Jones." Ezra heard Joshua grunt. "Are you all right, Mr. Smith."
"Oh. Yes. I'm just not a fan of the facial hair."
"And that's why you don't have one, Joshua," Kid said.
They all shook hands. "Good to meet you," Chris said. Ezra knew that for the lie that it was. He would have to compliment his fellow lawman on his acting ability later. The leader of The Seven turned to his friend. "Are you heading to their room?"
"Ah am. Care to join me to see what we have done?"
"Sure."
They started to walk again. "And what do you have in that sack?"
"Some baked goods from the bakery."
"Do you have enough to share?"
"We're walking right by there, as you can see."
"Ah can see that, Chris. But one might say that it is rude to enjoy such delicacies in front of others without having enough to share."
"I didn't enjoy it in front of you. And I don't intend to enjoy the rest of it in front of you."
Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, aka Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones, shared a glance and a smile. These two quipped back and forth much like they did, the easy, friendly banter giving the two wanted men a warm, comfortable feeling. That was in spite of how these two men were lawmen, usually an uncomfortable feeling for the two Kansans when they spent time nearby men who might recognize them from reading and re-reading their wanted posters. Also, they had heard tell of Chris Larabee. There were more feared gunmen in Wyoming territory, Heyes and the Kid heard there were similar bad men in Utah, Montana and Colorado, but being in the presence of Chris Larabee wasn't something either Heyes or Curry wished for, both for similar-yet-different reasons: Heyes' worry was that his fast gun friend would get into a shootout with the man. Curry worried that, with a man with the reputation of Chris Larabee, just drawing faster wasn't good enough. Kid hated pulling the trigger or being forced to shoot, potentially to kill. From what he'd heard, Larabee had quite a number of kills under his belt.
"The general store here is well-stocked, and Dottie and Ben Pike are wonderful people. Their son Jeremiah is a darling little boy. This bakery is their idea, bringing together the baking skills of our wonderful group of bakers in town. There is quite a variety of delectations behind those doors … and in Chris' sack."
"That's not a lie," Chris added with a smile.
"There are few things Thaddeus enjoys more than a good general store."
"And you, Mistah Smith?" Ezra asked.
"I've been known to find time in a general store not wasted," Heyes replied with a smile.
"Then Ah hope you will feel up to browsing this store. As well, the lovely Gloria Potter runs the mercantile up the boulevard. Toward the rear of this building is the room you will share." They made the turn from the main avenue to head along the side of the last building on the block, a building that, save for the grain exchange and the church, represented the end of Four Corners proper. There were plans to expand the town, but no definitive direction in which to do so. "Ah believe that the Pikes, Tommy and Ah have put together a lovely space for you for the time you will be with us." Ezra unlocked the door, opened it, handed the key to Thaddeus and said, "Gentlemen," as he waved his hand for the newcomers to enter.
The large window beside the door and the bank of three along the back of the building flooded the room with light. All of the windows were open and the canopy of assorted fruit trees and other smaller trees that provided an immediate wind break to the back helped cool the air that flowed into the room. A more significant wind break of a line of trees well east of the Pikes' property had been planted years earlier to help defend the south side of town from the gustier winds that regularly vexed the region in the spring.
"What is this?" Kid asked as he walked up to the series of three windows. He touched the material that was strung across the window, even though the window was fully open.
"That is screening material. We put together frames for them and installed them on the outside of the building. Dottie and Ben have extensive fruit trees and bushes and a goodly number of bees and other beneficial insects because of it. By the way, there are benches throughout the garden if you would prefer a respite there." Ezra breathed in deeply. "The scents from the garden, basil and rosemary, flowering trees as well as pine, bushes, other herbs, depending on the season, waft in on a stiff breeze. Both inside and out, you will have a cooler breeze than most of us in town are blessed with because of all of these trees."
"Well, the whole town seems somewhat cooler than it used to be since you and Gloria and all the kids have been planting every year."
"Chris, you are too kind, and most assuredly your lovely Mary, that is Mary Travis, the newspaper publisher, she did far more, along with the other ladies of the town, than the children."
"I don't know, Ez, you planted the seed with quite a few of them to be gardeners."
"If Ah did, then Ah have truly done well. Now, with your screens, you should enjoy a very pleasant stay. It has been warm but we are headin' into the fall. Perchance Mother Earth will look kindly upon we mere mortals and autumn weather will arrive early."
"That would be nice," Heyes said as he wiped the latest sheen of sweat from his forehead.
"Have a seat, Mistah Smith. Indeed, allow us all to sit and enjoy a libation." Ezra walked over to a tall cabinet and opened the two front doors to expose a bottle of liquor and four glasses.
"Where'd you find that?" Chris asked. It was a beautiful mahogany wood liquor cabinet. A plain design, but the quality wood invalidated any necessity for further embellishment.
"Ah procured it on mah last trip to Eagle Bend before Fr … Ah … " Ezra stopped speaking and lowered his head. Chris stood and went to his friend's side. He placed his hand affectionately on his back, and then reached into Ezra's jacket and pulled out his handkerchief, an action he'd seen Nathan or Vin manage once or twice over these last months. He tried to stand close enough to give the gambler some privacy as he wiped the tears from his eyes, but he knew from the angle that at least one of Heyes or Curry would be able to see what was going on. Chris leaned over and spoke softly.
"Do you want me to tell them … "
"No. No, " Ezra said as he finished wiping his face. "Ah will tell the story. Could you pour the drinks?"
"Sure."
"Gentlemen, Ah apologize. Ah have suffered a recent loss that has been, well, Ah have had great trouble recovering from it."
"Still have a ways to go, there, Ez."
"Ah do. Ah will say that mah young friend passed suddenly and has left me quite bereft. He was a dog, and you may laugh if you will, but he was the dearest little man and the most extraordinary companion."
"Ezra shared him with all of us. We were lucky to have him, even if it was only for a few short years," Chris said.
The southerner laughed, a sad smile adorning his face. Heyes and Kid looked on, worried for the reaction from a man who had just been crying, still clearly tortured over the loss, torn enough that he could not avoid crying in front of strangers. Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry lived a very difficult life, dating back to when they were children. They would say that all of the pain in their young lives steeled them from ever reacting the way Ezra Standish was now. They would say that, but they both hoped that it was not true. Both men yearned for something as simple as mourning the death of a dog. "If you only knew how amazing it is that Chris Larabee should be offering testimony about Fred, you would laugh as well."
"Knock it off. I came around. Eventually."
"You did, indeed." Ezra raised his glass. "To men who are able to overcome their prejudices, and hopefully their pasts." Heyes and Kid looked from each other to Ezra and then to Chris. They waited for the notorious former gunslinger and current leader of the law enforcers of Four Corners.
"Cheers," Chris said as he raised his glass. They all joined in the toast, and then enjoyed a taste of the fine Kentucky bourbon.
"Well, as you can see, your quarters are quite sizable. Your neighbors for the duration of your stay are in the process of upgrading the water in this part of the building. Unfortunately, they were unable to finish that project before your arrival. Through that door is a sink and a pump-handle water faucet. The pitcher and basin are in this room, as is the stove. Through that door is also a folding tub, and plenty of room in there to set it up. You might wish to wash the worst of your travels off at the bathhouse, and then the accommodations here should be most amenable." Ezra looked around. "Let us see … oh, yes, the outhouse is out back … in the garden." Ezra smiled. "Well, it is actually positioned to the right of the gate that would take you to the garden, far enough to not affect any of the arboreal activities. Take a left out of your door, through the gate, look to your right, just beyond the lilac bush and surrounded by some small pines." A knock at the door had Ezra stop.
"Hello? Anybody home?" Chris laughed.
"Come on in, Dottie."
Dottie Pike walked in. Everyone stood to greet the pretty woman. "I had to stop by. Is everything to your liking? Did we forget anything? I'm Dottie Pike. Oh, my, you should sit." She walked up to one of the strangers and placed her hand on his forehead. "Fever." Kid laughed. "That's not nice," she said sternly to the handsome, mustachioed man.
"She's right," Heyes said. He was in no rush to remove the cool hand from his forehead.
"The one you are fondling is Joshua Smith. The one with the moustache is Thaddeus Jones. This is Dottie Pike. Dottie, you can remove your hand now," Chris said with a smirk. Dottie stepped away from Heyes and stood beside the tall former gunslinger.
"Actually, it felt good," Heyes admitted.
"That's because you're burning up," the Kid said.
"It'll go down, it always does." Kid shook his head, Heyes shrugged his shoulder.
"I just finished washing some vegetables from the garden, I'm sure it did feel good. Are you boys hungry?"
Now it was Hannibal Heyes' turn to laugh. "How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Well, I am thirty years old. It was not proper of you to ask, but I won't hold that against you because we are obviously the same age, but right now you're not looking so spiffy. I know that you're here to see Nathan, I hope you'll be doing that soon." She turned to Ezra. "Did we miss anything?"
"Ah do not believe we did."
"Okay." Dottie walked past Ezra, leaned in and said, "The water is nicely cold out of the faucet. You might wish to use it on your puffy eyes," she added as she grasped her friend's hand fondly. Ezra squeezed hers in return.
"Ah shall before Ah leave."
"All right. Are either of you hungry? I can see you will be heading to the bathhouse first. Would you like me to set up a meal for you, say at three o'clock." Kid pulled out Heyes' watch from his partner's pocket."
"Presumptuous," the dark-haired one of the pair said. This time Ezra laughed. So did Dottie. Ezra walked to the sink and rinsed his eyes.
"Three o'clock sounds great. Let's go get cleaned up," Curry said. He gathered up a change of clothes for each of them from their carpetbag, grabbed Heyes by the elbow and said, "Lead on."
Dottie preceded everyone out the door while Chris excused himself to head up the street to the former Standish Tavern to see who he could join there for a drink. After they locked the door behind them, the two most successful outlaws in the history of The West followed Ezra Standish across the street and then up to the bathhouse. The accomplished poker player left them to their baths and walked back across the street to join however many of his brothers in arms were present for a drink before trying to convince Inez to join him for a short visit. He knew he would be busy while the famous outlaws were in town, both to abide by his promise to Chris to keep an eye on them, and to try to assist Nathan in his efforts to help find out what it was that was keeping Hannibal Heyes so ill. He and Inez needed to talk, but the chances of that seemed pretty remote to the former con man right now.