The Rest of the Story

by TerriTrek

Sequel immediately following When Ezra Met Eleanor. This sets up the relationship with the guys as seen in Too Quiet and The Baby Shower.

TZ 10 The Rest of the Story

Inez had cleared away the dishes, leaving Team Seven and their guest to get down to business with a clean table and refilled glasses.

Chris Larabee waited until JD had set up his laptop once more in case research was needed or notes needed to be taken, then focused a steely green gaze on Eleanor Merrill. "Our surveillance uncovered a discrepancy that we can't account for. We have pictures of everyone who's gone in and out of the building but it seems like—"

"Like some of them weren't using the front door?" she supplied. "I noticed that recently."

Chris and Vin exchanged looks, appreciating her observational skills. Buck sighed and silently handed a twenty dollar bill to Ezra which caused JD to snort and Chris to level his death glare on the pair. "I said no betting on the job."

"Mr. Larabee, you are mistaken. We were not wagering on the job itself but on Mrs. Merrill—"

Eleanor looked amused. "Y'all are really something. I'd have to actually be a Dumb Dora if I didn't notice that some people went past my office going down the hall and never came back that way."

"Ma'am, I have the blueprints of the building here," JD said, shifting the laptop so that she could see it across the table. "Could you make a guess where the secret door is?"

"I can do better than that. As I told Mr. Standish, I've been keeping my head down and doing the work—and pretending I'm dumb so Mr. Masso and his associates have pretty much been ignoring me. I saw a man walk into that storeroom—" she pointed to a small room on the blueprint that was next to Masso's office, "—and he never came out again. But then he was there again the next day, coming in the front entrance again."

Josiah riffled through the folder of photographs and pulled out the one that showed the man he'd identified as Howard Delton. "Would this be the man you saw?"

"Yes, but he's not the only one."

"What do you mean?" Chris said, fixing his eyes on Wilmington and Dunne. "Unless someone screwed up more than once—"

"We didn't miss anyone else, Chris," Buck protested.

"You didn't know you'd missed Delton until Ezra pointed it out," Larabee growled.

"No, wait," Eleanor protested. "I'm sorry, I may have misled you. I didn't mean that someone else had come in the front door and gone out that way. I mean I've seen several other people coming out of the storeroom access point in the last two weeks."

"Where are they coming from?" Nathan asked. "JD?"

The young man was scanning through several screens as he compared the aerial photograph of the neighborhood with the blueprints of the building. "I think I've got it. Looks like the storeroom lines up with the parking garage behind the building, not the one next door which is supposed to service Masso's building. It would only take a connecting hallway about twelve feet long. Looks like it would come out... in a storeroom next to a staircase on the fourth level."

"So they could park in that garage, go through the storeroom and get into Masso's building without being seen from the street. Clever," Josiah muttered.

"Perhaps if Mrs. Merrill would like to look through our photos she may be able to identify these men," Standish suggested. "Some of them may have come through the building when she was away from her desk or at lunch."

Josiah slid the photos across the table to Ezra who quickly spread them out in front of Eleanor as if he were dealing cards into a hand of solitaire. She took her time and eventually shook her head. "No, there were two others on separate occasions but they aren't here."

"Can you give us a description?" Nathan asked.

She nodded, closed her eyes as if remembering, then began to speak in a matter-of-fact tone. "One of them was very tall, maybe over 6'5" and he was bald, muscular, heavy set with a big barrel chest. One thing that might help, he had a scar running from his eyebrow almost down to his lip. It ran along the left side of his face and made his eye kind of pucker at the corner. What?" she asked, eyes flying open and widening as Larabee emitted a low growl.

Buck patted her hand comfortingly. "Think we recognize that description. JD, see if you can find the record on Bob Spikes. If you can confirm that for us, it might lead us to his associates."

"Thought Spikes had left Colorado," Vin said.

"We almost nailed him for bringing in illegal cigarettes and weapons here in Denver two years ago but he took off and left his associates to take the fall," Standish explained to Eleanor.

"I guess he's back," JD replied, spinning his laptop once more to display a mugshot of one Bob Spikes to Eleanor Merrill and the others.

"Yes, that's him," she said simply. "He's kind of hard to miss even when he's sneaking around."

"And the other one?" Nathan asked. "Did the other one come in with Bob or some other time?"

"No, they weren't there at the same time. I'm sorry I can't be terribly specific but I was only paying attention at all out of curiosity, and possibly because I had a feeling that Mr. Masso wasn't a legitimate businessman."

"Don't apologize, ma'am. Most people wouldn't have noticed what was goin' on," Vin said. "You been real helpful—givin' us a lot more'n we had before."

"Can you give us a description of the other guy?" Larabee asked bluntly, quick to get the conversation back on track.

She took a sip of her iced tea as she thought for moment. "He wasn't as memorable. Maybe 5'10", brownish hair with some gray along the temples, kind of thin on top. He did dress up a bit more than most people who come to see Mr. Masso. He was wearing a suit and tie and I think he was carrying a hat, possibly something like a fedora. I noticed that because it's kind of an old fashioned thing to wear. Oh, and he had really bad posture. His shoulders were kind of rounded, like he was trying to look shorter than he was. That stood out. I'm more used to military men who always stand up straight."

"Nothing else?" Buck asked gently. "No scars or tattoos or anything?"

Eleanor frowned a bit as she tried to recall. "Well, it sounds kind of mean—"

"We will not think less of you," Standish said.

She turned a small smile on him. "Well, thank you. That's not really my concern. I just don't like to sound judgmental or critical of someone's appearance."

Buck patted her hand comfortingly and shot a frown at Ezra.

Ezra ignored him and kept his focus on the lady. "And if you were to share such an opinion?"

"Oh, all right," she said, with a hint of exasperation. "If I really need to describe him, he reminded me of a possum."

"A possum?" JD spluttered.

"You know what a possum looks like, JD," Tanner said impatiently. "Ma'am, you mean he had a long thin nose?"

"Yes, exactly. He had small, beady eyes and his ears sort of stuck out on the sides."

"JD, look for known associates of Top Hat Bob and see if you can find a picture that might be a match," Larabee rapped out as Dunne seemed to be frozen in place while trying to form a mental picture. "Mrs. Merrill, is there anything else you can think of that we ought to know?"

"Please, call me Eleanor," she replied with a serene smile. "I don't know what kinds of things you would need to know exactly but I have an idea. I'm sure by now you know my father was a Texas Ranger. While he didn't talk about his cases at home, I did sometimes hear a rant or two about informants or witnesses not giving correct details."

"Can you tell us if there's been anything unusual lately? Any change in activity levels?" Josiah asked. "Do you have access to all his financial records as his bookkeeper?"

"Thank you. Having specific questions helps," she replied. "I only do the books for his legitimate businesses so I think he has someone else to deal with the illegal income. I had an idea that there was way too much cash coming in from his shoe stores and laundromats, especially the shoe stores."

"His stores are high-priced brands," Nathan commented. "You'd think people would use credit cards."

"Exactly," she said. "So the amount of cash made me a bit suspicious but there was nothing I could put my finger on. As for activity levels, things have been kind of slow and now that I know about your surveillance I think that's why. That may be why the back door was used more and I happened to notice. The bouncers, Bozo and Bongo, have been keeping an eye on your van and lurking in the lobby more than usual in the last week or so as well."

"Bozo and Bongo?" Vin spluttered. "Is that their names? The big guys in the security uniforms?"

Eleanor wrinkled her nose. "Sorry, no, that's just what I called them because they like to try to intimidate people and swagger around."

"I trust you were not intimidated?" Standish inquired.

"Not hardly. They're muscle but no brains. They've dismissed me as an unattractive, airhead, math nerd. Three strikes and I'm out. They never pay attention to me," Eleanor said calmly.

"Then I believe you," Ezra said. "They have no brains—and no taste at all."

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Beep, beep."

The others laughed, having recognized the sound of her 'bullshit detector'.

Standish put on a wounded expression. "You malign me, Eleanor. I do think you may have escaped attention, but I am quite sure that it is a deliberate choice on your part."

She conceded his point with a smile. "I do my best. I'm trying to keep my head down and stay out of trouble while Joe's deployed. He worries." She gazed at her wedding ring with a fond smile.

"Chris," Dunne said excitedly, "I think I've got the possum."

"There's a sentence you don't hear every day," Josiah commented wryly.

Dunne spun his laptop to face the center of the table to display a picture of a man who easily fit the description that Eleanor Merrill had given them. "His name's Harold Atkinson and his record is for money laundering, embezzlement, and tax fraud. There was a connection to Spikes in a bust in Georgia but Atkinson escaped being charged due to lack of evidence. That was the one where Spikes got off on a technicality—some kind of problem with the warrant."

They all looked to Eleanor for confirmation which she supplied with a nod.

"Now what?" Nathan asked. "We have the identities of two more suspects and we can make a good guess at what they're involved in but we don't know when."

"I might be able to help with that," Eleanor said tentatively. "There's a pattern to the surge of cash in the legitimate businesses every third Thursday of the month. The receipts are turned in on Thursdays so I can process payrolls, issue paychecks and bonuses, and then Mr. Masso can make a deposit on Friday or Monday morning."

"That means he would have a substantial amount of cash on hand if he were to need it for a transaction with Mr. Spikes," Standish said.

"Tomorrow is the third Thursday," Dunne stated.

"So whatever the deal is, it will go down sometime between Sunday and Wednesday," Josiah said. "If we get some surveillance going in that parking garage, we can catch them in the act."

"Not Sunday," Eleanor interjected. "He reserves his Sundays to spend with his family. Every week they have some kind of gathering of the extended family that lasts most of the day. I heard him discussing it with his niece. So it would be Monday or Tuesday, most likely."

"I can work with that," Larabee said. "We'll keep the surveillance van in the front of the building so they'll think we're still stymied, maybe get Team Three or Four to help with that. JD, Buck, we'll need to find the secret door in the parking garage and set up cameras to watch it and the area around it to record evidence."

"Do we need a warrant?" Nathan asked. All eyes turned to Ezra for an opinion.

"It is a public parking garage, but likely privately owned," the Southerner stated. "We need to find out who owns it and obtain permission to plant cameras. He may be unaware of the presence of the passageway between the buildings if it was put in place during construction or prior to his ownership. If it is Masso who owns the building, we will definitely need a warrant."

"Gentlemen," Eleanor interrupted quietly, "it's getting late and I think this discussion is going to be lengthy, and frankly, none of my business, so I think I'll bid you goodnight."

"Wait, wait," Buck said. "I don't like the idea that Masso might find out that you talked to us. You're the only employee there who isn't family or a criminal. You could be in danger if he thinks you've been snooping or talking."

"Oh, I don't think—" she began.

"No, I concur," Standish interrupted. "We need to implement your emancipation from his employment before any new measures are undertaken. You did say you were going to be leaving the job soon anyway since you've discovered the criminality involved."

Faced with seven men who were evidently in accord in attempting to protect her and knowing her husband would certainly agree, Eleanor conceded. "Okay. Fine. Mr. Masso calls me in every Monday for a report. I'll tidy up the books, get everything in order by Friday, and hand in my resignation on Monday, effective immediately. I should be able to leave by lunchtime."

"What are you gonna tell 'im if he asks why, El'nor?" Vin asked. "He's gonna want to know why if it's all of a sudden."

"He knows my husband is a soldier and deployed. I'll just tell him that he's coming home and wants me to quit work to be a stay at home wife and mother. That would fit right into Mr. Masso's world view. He seems the type to think women should be kept barefoot and pregnant and blaming it on my husband would be believable to him."

"What a cretin," Ezra muttered.

"Really?" Nathan asked. "That's so—stupid."

Vin sniggered. "If he buys that, he ain't met many real women. Dang. Can you imagine Rain's face if you tried to tell her that?"

Nathan shuddered. "I value my life more than to try, even as a joke."

"So, that's a plan," Eleanor said, getting to her feet. She slipped a business card to Ezra as he stood to escort her out. "This is my cell number if you need to know anything else. Let me know when I can go for an interview at the Federal Building with your friend. I don't want to be out of work for more than a couple of days. I'll get bored and Joe and I are saving up to buy a house when he comes back. Good night."

Standish escorted her out of The Saloon and put her in a cab before returning to the back room where Team Seven was gathering files and equipment in preparation to leave.

Larabee was issuing orders. "Go home and get some rest. Hopefully we can contact the owner of the garage, get the cameras in place and set up surveillance there, have someone else lined up to take over the van in the front, and start trying to track Spikes and Atkinson."

"If we set up on Sunday, most of the nearby businesses will be closed so no one will notice," Jackson suggested. "And we know Masso and his family will be out of the way."

"Do you think she'll be okay?" JD asked. "Nobody is suspicious yet?"

Josiah answered, "I think she's very good at being unobtrusive and, as she said, they don't pay much attention to her anyway, which is their mistake. She's too intelligent to try something dangerous or risk discovery. I think she knows her limits and won't push her luck."

The dreaded Standish drawl made its appearance. "I have thought of a way to expedite her departure on Monday, however."

Larabee glowered at him. "Do I want to know?"

Standish smirked and buffed his nails on the lapel of his coat. "Possibly not." He winked at Vin who grinned back at him.

"Then don't tell me," Chris snapped.

"Good night, gentlemen, and I use the term loosely," Standish said, saluted his team, spun on his heel, and left the room.

"Vin—"

"No, Cowboy, I don't know what he's up to," Tanner replied quickly. "But I think he'll have fun doing it whatever it is."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Josiah grumbled. "But let's not borrow trouble."

Monday Morning

Thursday and Friday had been busy with intelligence gathering, new assignments, getting cameras placed and surveillance established, and all the other assorted details that had to be taken care of in preparation for a bust that would take place with short notice, depending on the timing of the discovery of exactly when the suspects were going to be buying and selling illegal items. Fortunately, Chris Larabee was very good at details and organization.

The owner of the parking garage had been contacted and had convinced Larabee that he'd had no idea about his garage building being used for surreptitious access to the building behind it and had given permission for the team to place cameras and microphones unobtrusively. They accomplished this late at night, long after the merchants in the area had closed for business, when the garage had totally emptied.

John Black and Jack Bodell, Buck and JD's counterparts on ATF Team Four, were on the injured list with minor injuries from a car crash resulting from chasing a suspect off the road and into a ditch. Since they were almost as troublesome as Vin or Buck when forced to be idle, Judge Travis had volunteered them to man the surveillance van again parked in front of Masso's office building as a decoy. When and if the bust went down, they could also serve as backup for Team Seven if needed.

Bodell was trying to figure out why Buck had insisted they keep recording and taking pictures since the action was not supposed to be anywhere near them. He caught on when Vin Tanner told him that Ezra was going to make sure their informant got out of the building and the rest of Team Seven didn't want to miss it. Standish could always be counted on for a surprise or two so Bodell agreed that they would be ready and try to get really good coverage.

JD and Buck were now stationed in another van parked on the level above the secret door and had full monitoring ability and a strong signal. Nathan and Josiah were drinking coffee and sitting at an outdoor table at a small cafe next to the garage watching for pedestrians entering the area. Vin and Chris were on the roof of the parking garage, keeping an eye on the entrances and exits, using binoculars to get license plates of entering cars and feeding them to JD for identification.

Waiting for something to happen was never easy but they were used to it and each man had his own method of keeping himself focused and alert.

Unfortunately for Chris, one of Vin's was whistling, which he supposed was a step up from that damned harmonica. He sent a glare in Vin's direction but it had the same effect as it ever did on the sharpshooter. None at all.

Vin stopped whistling for a moment to tell JD, "Got a personalized plate. Says Hit Here."

"What? Spell that."

"What do you mean spell it?" Tanner asked indignantly. "It's H-I-T H-E-R-E."

"Oh, okay... Are you sure it isn't supposed to be Hi There?"

There was a whapping sound over the coms and everyone knew that Buck had just popped JD on the head with a newspaper or something similar. "What difference does it make, kid? Just get on with it."

"Fine. Naw, that's one clear," Dunne said after a moment. "Sales rep. Why are you so antsy, Buck?"

"What time is it?"

Chris interrupted. "It's 11:45. Settle down. I'm sure she's fine."

Wilmington didn't seem as confident as Larabee. "Any sign of her? Or Ezra yet? She said she'd quit about lunch time. She always left the building right at twelve."

Team Seven all snapped to attention when they heard Jack Bodell over the coms. "Whoa. Now that's a different look for Standish. John, do you see what I see?"

"What?" Buck snapped.

"You guys aren't gonna believe this one," John Black muttered. "You have to wait for the tape. Standish just showed up and marched into the building."

Bodell was heard to snicker at the word 'marched'.

"What's going on?" Wilmington demanded.

"We've got two angles into the front windows. He's in the lobby talking to the receptionist," Black responded. After a few minutes he added, "And now he's walking a lady out the door. I assume that's your informant?"

"Is she okay?" Vin asked.

"Oh, I'd say she looks right cheerful," Bodell said, then started to chuckle. "Ouch."

Team Seven guessed that his partner had thumped him one as Black then said, "They're out and away. Just got into a cab that Standish had waiting. You can stand down, boys."

"Told ya she'd do fine, Buck," said Tanner.

"But what did Ezra do?" Wilmington all but whined.

"Oh, you definitely have to see it for yourself," Black replied. "Big change from his usual GQ look."

"Fine," Larabee growled. "Everyone back to work."

After another thirty minutes of boring routine, Nathan chimed in. "You really think they'll make a move today?"

"Could be," Josiah responded. "Eleanor said that Spikes was there twice in the last two weeks, both times on a Monday. Spikes is known to be impatient and -"

"And not right bright," Buck added.

"It's today," Vin said a few minutes later. "Just saw him clear as day. Spikes just pulled into the garage in a brown F250 with a camper on the top. That would hide a lot of stuff."

After a couple of minutes, Dunne reported that Spikes had parked his truck in a reserved space on the opposite side of the garage directly across from the so-called storeroom.

Another five minutes passed then Wilmington said, "Masso and his goons just came out the door."

"Spike's getting out of his truck. Man, he's scary looking. Just got out and heading for the—uh oh."

"What the hell do you mean uh-oh, JD?" Larabee snapped as he and Vin checked their weapons and started making their way down the stairs towards the fourth level.

On the street level, Jackson and Sanchez also started moving up the stairs to get into position.

"I don't think he and Spikes—oh, shit. Ohhhhh, shiiiiit."

Dunne's voice broke off just as members of Team Seven identified the sounds of silenced weapons and the sudden boom of unsilenced guns also being fired on the fourth level.

By the time they'd all arrived on the scene, it was all pretty much over—except for the paperwork. And cleanup.

Tanner stood back and kept a watchful eye and a ready weapon on the criminals while Larabee was barking out orders to Dunne to send for ambulances and forensics backup.

Jackson moved to check for signs of life but shook his head when he reached the two big men that Eleanor had called Bozo and Bongo. They were on the ground, silenced hand guns next to them. Both men had been shot center mass, and were dead with sizeable holes in their bodies, probably dead before they hit the ground.

Masso was lying sprawled in the open door to the secret entrance bleeding from a wound on the outside of his left shoulder and swearing loudly. There was a small briefcase next to him and he was trying to hide it behind himself as he struggled to sit up.

On the other side of the garage, Top Hat Bob Spikes was in front of his truck, flat on his back holding a .45 Colt in one hand and a .38 in the other. He'd been shot once in the right leg and once in the left shoulder and must have hit his head on the way down because he was unconscious.

Jackson approached Masso with his medical kit, intending to try to check out his wound and stop or at least slow down the bleeding until an ambulance arrived.

"Get away from me! I don't need your help. What the hell did you do to me? Who are you?" the man yelled, then resumed cursing and calling them all names. He'd made it to a sitting position and had pushed the briefcase behind his back. "What's going on here? I want my lawyer."

"Sir, are you refusing treatment?" Jackson asked, torn between being angry and appalled.

"Damn right, get the hell away from me!"

Tanner had had enough. He gently eased Jackson aside and turned him towards Spikes with a gentle nudge. "At least he's bein' quiet and might appreciate the help, Nate."

As soon as Jackson had moved away, Tanner grabbed the wrist on Masso's uninjured side and handcuffed him to the door handle, snatching the briefcase and taking it into custody. "You shut your mouth," he said fiercely. "Or I'll shut it for you."

"That's mine. I'm a law abiding citizen. I'm the victim here. I want my lawyer," the older man declared self-righteously.

"Your lawyer ain't gonna help stop the bleedin'. And your squalling and wiggling 'round on the floor is stupid too. You should be countin' your blessings that Spikes got you with the .38 and not the .45 or you'd be in hell already. You got the right to remain silent so shut up and lie still and maybe you won't bleed to death before the EMTs get here since you don't want Nathan's help." Tanner took the briefcase and put it on the floor out of Masso's reach until the forensics team could arrive and take it into evidence.

Though outraged, Masso subsided and put an effort into putting pressure on his own wound. It seemed he had a hard time believing that anyone had dared shoot him.

Within minutes, Bodell and Black arrived and freed Sanchez from crowd control, mainly keeping bystanders and then the press out of the way as the ambulances were loaded up, one for each handcuffed suspect. With a quick phone call to the hospital, Larabee arranged for security to keep an eye on them until they were locked down in the prison section of the hospital. They couldn't be processed or interrogated until their medical situation had been addressed anyway so there was nothing else to do at present.

Uniformed police officers arrived to assist and things settled down quite a bit as the forensics team arrived and began to take photos and collect evidence.

JD and Buck drove the van down to the fourth level to lend a hand. Larabee crossed the floor and leaned a bit into the open window, fixing a stare on Wilmington. "Since we were all late arriving on the scene, I hope you know exactly what happened. And can prove it."

"Damn, Chris, who the hell knew it was gonna turn into the Gunfight at the OK Corral? We got it all. Sound and picture. They're gonna be using this to teach classes at the Academy. We didn't see it coming, but we did our usual great job of getting it on tape. We're just that good." Wilmington was justifiably proud of a job well done.

The tension in Larabee's shoulders released a bit. "Good. Get the van back and turn in the equipment. That tape is going to be our best evidence against both Spikes and Masso so be careful."

"Already made two back up copies, Chris," JD said.

"We'll get this mess cleaned up and then—oh, hell." Larabee broke off as he saw the frantic approach of the owner of the building. "This guy's going to have hysterics. Where's Ezra when you need him?"

Larabee didn't flinch when Tanner suddenly appeared behind his right shoulder and said, "Aw, hell, Cowboy. We don't need Ez. I bet Nathan can soothe him down now that he's not wasting time on those two idjit crooks that shot each other."

Larabee nodded his dismissal and Tanner walked over to Nathan and aimed him in the direction of the apoplectic garage owner who was gasping and throwing out questions about what had happened and why was his garage floor covered in blood?

Probably a good thing Nathan was dealing with him. No one wanted another body to hit the ground due to a panic attack. The paperwork was already going to be mountain high.

As it turned out, Tanner was right and Jackson very efficiently got the man to a more stable emotional state and reassured him that someone would clean up the mess at some point after the crime scene was no longer being documented.

Sanchez was at the back of Spikes' truck and had opened the door to survey the contents. Larabee joined him as he opened the first of four cases to reveal it contained M16's, U.S. Army rifles.

"Damn. Spikes has moved up in the world," Josiah said. "You think these came from the armory in Ft. Hood? Robbed about six months ago?"

Larabee shook his head. "He's hasn't got the brains to have masterminded that job. He's just the fence." Chris waved a cameraman over to take some pictures of the truck and its contents and added a tow truck to the list of needed resources that Dunne was rounding up. They'd take Spikes' truck back and let the lab boys see if they could get any information from it as to where he might have been storing the weapons, in case this wasn't his total cache and, if they were lucky, maybe some prints that would tell them who else was involved.

Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. It did take hours but it felt more like a day by the time everyone was done with their part of the follow-up to what wasn't exactly a bust, but a shootout.

The coroner showed up with a hearse for the two bodies and was patiently waiting while crime scene photos were taken and evidence markers put down. The tow truck came for the truck and Josiah rode along as guard and to maintain the chain of evidence for the rifles.

With a wince that telegraphed he was dealing with cracked ribs and assorted bruises, John Black leaned on a wall next to Vin Tanner as they watched the scurrying activities of the techs. "I'd heard stories about shit that went down on Team Seven's busts. Don't think I believed half of them until now. The motto of Team Seven—we don't know what the hell happened, but we won. Is that how it's going in the report?"

Tanner snickered. "Better than Team Four's motto—doesn't this car have brakes?"

The large bruise on the side of his face and the sling and wrist cast not slowing him down in the slightest, Jack Bodell bounced over to stand in front of his partner. "John, Larabee says we can go if we want. He wants us to sign in the other van and get set up for The Ezra Standish Show."

"You bring the show, I'll get the popcorn," Vin promised with a grin.

"You're on," Black said and he and Bodell went to reclaim their van.

"Yeah, we'll show you ours if you show us yours," Bodell said. "What?" he added wearing a blank look when both of the older men groaned.

Black pushed himself off the wall and took his younger partner by his good arm and led him away. "Nothing, kid. But don't say that again, okay?"

Tanner shook his head as they walked away. Team Four had some odd ducks. He was glad Team Seven was so normal.

Eleanor Merrill had no problem with getting the ledgers squared away and everything ready for a final report, she'd cleared the few personal items from her desk and placed them in her purse, and had just handed her boss a letter of resignation that spelled out in fine misogynistic detail that she was quitting at her husband's insistence.

And as she predicted, Masso bought it. He was a bit irritated at being inconvenienced but since she'd also given him a card for the Cameron Temp agency, he assumed she'd be easily replaced. He signed her final check at exactly 11:45 and then received a buzz on the intercom from the receptionist, his niece Louella. "What is it?"

"Mrs. Merrill's husband is here to pick her up."

It was a measure of her self-control that she didn't show any surprise or doubt in her expression. She tried for happy bewilderment and thought possibly she deserved some kind of award for acting. "Oh, I didn't know he was coming. Could you tell him I'll be right down?"

Masso, who suffered under the delusion that he was some kind of gentleman, offered to escort her downstairs. He wasn't going to admit that something about this woman had always made him a bit nervous and he'd just as soon see her out of the building for good.

They walked out of his office, down the hall, and into the elevator without speaking. Upon reaching the lobby, Eleanor found her footsteps faltering for just a moment as she caught sight of the man at the receptionist desk.

It was Ezra Standish. He was wearing a U.S. Army dress uniform, even the cap, and the rack of ribbons on display were exactly the ribbons that her husband's uniform would hold. When the elevator opened, he turned towards her and took a step forward, holding his arms open. "My dearest Eleanor."

Not trusting herself to speak, she smiled and ran to him, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his neck as she tried desperately not to laugh. She failed and she hoped that the shaking of her shoulders would be mistaken for crying while she tried to get control of herself.

With his usual charm and aplomb, he cupped the back of her head with one hand and patted her back with the other as he reassured their audience. "I probably should have warned her of my early return. Thank you so much for taking good care of my wife while I was away."

Masso nodded in acknowledgement, as if he actually had done something more than supply her with a job and paycheck, and turned to go back to the elevator, summoning the two bodyguards with a jerk of his thumb.

Eleanor was taking deep breaths, trying to get her giggles under control. Ezra pinched her arm as he told Louella. "She gets so emotional. I'm sure you understand."

Louella didn't understand and could not have cared less but fluttered her eyelashes at him in response. Married or not, there was just something about a man in uniform.

The pinch helped her sober up but, not sure how long she could keep it up, she stepped back quickly, slipped her arm around his waist and said, "Let's go home, Joe."

He cuddled her close to his side. "Of course." As soon as they were out the door she dissolved into giggles once more. He flipped a casual salute directly at the surveillance van parked in front of the building as he led her to the waiting taxi and held the door for her.

"What do you find so humorous?" he asked as the taxi drove away from the building. "I think I make this uniform look good."

"Oh, you do...but I wasn't expecting you," she replied. "I think you're just lucky I didn't have a picture of Joe on my desk or they'd have known something was up."

"Since you repeatedly said the office staff was not interested in you and mostly ignored you, I didn't consider that they'd have paid any attention if you did have a photo displayed," Standish said dismissively.

She nodded and tried to maintain a straight face as she replied, "Yes, there is enough of a resemblance that you could fool someone who'd never actually met Joe—but I seriously doubt you could explain how and why Joe was suddenly six inches shorter."

Standish momentarily was speechless, then spluttered, "What? I am not that short. How tall is he?"

"He's 6'3"—I guess you didn't notice that in his file? And it would have been a spectacular problem to explain away if they had seen any pictures of the two of us side by side."

Not having a cogent argument to explain the oversight, Standish quickly changed the subject. "I need to change out of this before I am accosted and accused of stolen valor. Possibly we can adjourn to my townhouse, I can change and then we will go to lunch? I made an appointment for you with Mrs. Tidwell at the Federal Building for 3 PM and if you like, you can use my computer to create or print out a copy of your resume."

"Sounds good to me," Eleanor said. She'd regained her poise and was imagining the expression on her husband's face when she told Joe about this whole experience the next time they Skyped.

Judge Travis strode into the empty Team Seven bullpen and headed directly for the conference room, wrinkling his nose as he identified the scent of popcorn in the air. Just before he reached the door, it opened and most of Team Seven and two members of Team Four spilled out into the bullpen, all of them laughing or smiling. Their smiles dropped as soon as they registered the Judge's presence. "Popcorn?"

"Uh—" JD began, but gave up with a look at Chris and scurried away to place the two large empty bowls on his own desk and busy himself with his computer.

Bodell and Black, stepped aside and moved closer to the exit. The others wisely moved to their own desks with a nod to the judge as a greeting.

They'd all leave it to Larabee to handle the judge which he did with his usual directness. "We skipped lunch while dealing with the scene, so we had a snack while reviewing the footage and wrapping up the paperwork. Have you looked at your copies yet?"

Travis nodded. "Yes, and I have a few questions."

"Only a few?" Wilmington muttered under his breath.

The judge ignored him, not wishing to be sidetracked. "Where is Standish, what was he doing, and why was he in that uniform?"

Tanner shot a glare at Bodell. They weren't supposed to have given the judge a copy of that tape.

Bodell shrugged, trying to look innocent. He wasn't as good at it as Dunne, but then Ezra Standish hadn't coached him.

"He was ensuring that our informant was safe and away from the scene and pretending to be her husband, home from deployment to make that happen," Larabee stated tersely. "It provided a plausible reason for her to quit her job without notice seeing that—"

The judge waved a dismissive hand. "Alright, I'll accept that."

"Looked good in uniform, didn't he, Judge Travis?" John Black added, never hesitant to poke a sleeping lion.

"I look good in everything," the dreaded Standish drawl supplied as the man arrived with his usual impeccable timing. He was no longer in uniform but wearing his plum colored suit.

Bodell snorted but before he could say anything inflammatory, his partner, hooked his good elbow and dragged him out of the bullpen. "Got to go. More paperwork to do. Afternoon, Judge," Black said as they disappeared from sight.

"Standish," the judge muttered in greeting.

Standish proceeded to seat himself at his desk and turn a cherubic beam on the older man.

Judge Travis quickly weighed his options and decided that Monday had already been a long day and he really didn't need to dot all the i's this late in the day. "This may be the first time the criminals took each other out, without any encouragement from any of you."

"It was quite fortunate that Team Seven was prepared for any eventuality and was able to move in and stop the violence before it became more widespread," Standish commented. "I believe the prosecutor will be quite pleased with the visual and audio record procured. So much easier and more reliable than eyewitness testimony."

"We could even put in subtitles," Buck suggested, "to make sure the jury can understand what all the shouting was about, maybe bleep the cuss words. Damn, but that Spikes was a paranoid nut. He was carrying two guns at the same time." A wadded up ball of paper struck the ladies' man on the back of the head. Barely turning, he added, "Vin, it don't count if you're a lawman, but somebody trying to lie low while doing dirty deeds ought to be a little more-"

"Circumspect? Subtle?" Standish supplied. "That's not Mr. Spikes' style. And, in fact, Masso wasn't much better—yelling that Spikes would take what he was offered as payment and be glad he had a deal at all."

"I guess Masso thought Bozo and Bongo could scare Spikes into backing down," Dunne said.

"Bozo and Bongo?" the judge asked.

"The bodyguards," Jackson supplied, looking up from his computer. "That's what Eleanor called them—we got their ID from their wallets but since they were dead, we weren't really paying much attention to them."

"Fine, but don't say that in public or put it in your reports," Travis admonished. "Now where is this witness of yours?"

The rest of the Seven looked at Ezra to answer the question.
"Mrs. Merrill is currently applying for a position in the Admin office and interviewing with Mrs. Tidwell. I think she'll be a fine addition to the department and it also provides her with a certain level of safety should her testimony be required, though I do think we could manage without putting her through the necessity of testifying. I'd prefer she remain an anonymous source that tipped us off."

Travis looked unconvinced, but then he rarely accepted anything that Standish said at face value. He looked at Larabee for clarification.

In his usual straight forward manner, Chris got to the point. "Her husband is Army and deployed at the moment, family in law enforcement, and she's got a level head. Better working here than in a temp agency which is what landed her with a lowlife like Masso. She doesn't know many people here except her in-laws and they're in assisted living."

Anyone who could impress Team Seven, without being a love interest for one of them must be extraordinary and her assistance had led to a quick clearance of the case and confiscation of a large cache of stolen Army rifles. Such efficient work made them all look good.

Travis nodded. "I look forward to meeting her."

Three weeks later

The Team Seven bullpen was quieter than usual for a Friday afternoon. Six men were working steadily on paperwork, doing research, and keeping their heads down in order to keep them on their shoulders and undamaged.

For no reason that they were as yet aware of, their fearless leader, Chris Larabee, was on the warpath and had snarled a warning at them before slamming the door of his office behind him, hard enough to rattle the frosted glass, but not hard enough to break it—this time.

After an exchange of glances which included silent accusations and rebuttals, they all basically shrugged and got back to work with the assured expectation from past experience that eventually they'd find out what was going on or Larabee would calm down and get over whatever it was.

There was a time to push and a time to leave it be. It was possible his surliness could be attributed to the fact he was returning from a meeting with Judge Travis and had nothing to do with them. If not, it would become apparent the next time his office door opened, whether for him to bellow out a summons for one of them or to make an announcement.

Until then, there was nothing much to be done except try to catch up on required paperwork and try not to aggravate the situation unduly. If nothing had changed by quitting time, Vin or Buck or both would sneak up on Chris and see if he needed to vent or be left alone.

It was quiet enough, for a change, to hear the elevator ding upon arrival at their floor, then the light tap of footsteps approaching the entrance to the bullpen, before a slight rap on the wall sounded and a feminine voice called out, "Yo. Incoming."

The six agents turned to stare at the doorway as Eleanor Merrill cautiously made her way in and paused as if waiting to be recognized as a friend.

"Sister, good to see you. What can we do for you?" Josiah boomed.

"How come you came in like that?" JD asked, studying her with a puzzled frown.

"I believe, Mr. Dunne, that the gossips have been at it again," Standish drawled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs at the ankles, prepared to enjoy a momentary respite from the drudgery of bureaucracy. "She probably expected to be caught in a crossfire. Possibly of paintballs—"

"That only happened once!" Tanner protested.

"Water balloons?" Eleanor mentioned and raised an eyebrow at Dunne.

"Well, that was only because...uh..." The young man squirmed in his seat. That one was his fault. He didn't know of an excuse that she would find acceptable.

"Confetti cannon?" Eleanor inquired, directing a quizzical look in Wilmington's direction.

"Uhh... okay, once or twice," Buck conceded.

"I don't even want to know why y'all got hold of a confetti cannon or why you thought it was a good idea to shoot one off in a building full of armed agents," Eleanor stated with a hint of disbelief. She'd been told the state of alert after that particular adventure had taken several hours to subside.

"You should take comfort, my dear," said Ezra, "in that they tend not to repeat themselves and never actually attempt to involve innocent bystanders. On some occasions, there just happened to be some—collateral damage, as they say. It is not a routine occurrence, no matter what you may have heard."

Wilmington snorted as he noted that the Southerner was not including himself as a perpetrator.

"Come on in and sit down, Eleanor," Jackson said. "No one's being too dumb today so it's safe." He pulled an extra chair from near the wall and placed it next to his and Josiah's desks. "If you got a minute to talk?"

Though as poised as ever, she looked slightly bemused as she took a seat, laying the file folder in her hand on the desk as she took a look around the bullpen. She'd never been in their offices before though she'd been working in the Federal Building for almost two weeks. Some of the desks were a tad messy but nothing unreasonable—if you didn't look too closely. It was nowhere near as bad as the rumor mill had painted it.

"Ya want some coffee?" Vin offered, getting ready to stand with his own mug in hand.

"No, thanks. I've heard about your version of coffee. It's said the spoon will stand straight up in it," she teased with a smile. "But I do have a couple of questions. I'm beginning to think either all of y'all are nuts... or the people in Admin are—and wondering what I got myself into, taking a job here in this building."

"Are you having trouble fitting in to the gestalt?" Ezra asked. "I thought Tessa would truly appreciate your refreshingly calm and efficient—"

"No, she's fine. Mrs. Tidwell is a great boss. She knows what she's doing, makes her expectations clear, and appreciates good work." She sighed. "According to rumor, most of the admin staff have decided I'm quiet and shy."

"Shy?" JD asked with apparent disbelief.

"Now, quiet I can believe," Standish added, "but I would not describe you as shy. Perhaps a bit introverted but you certainly don't hesitate to make your opinions known when necessary."

"Sounds about right," Eleanor agreed. "I mainly avoid the chit chat and get on with the job instead of socializing. I think I'm just out of practice at being around so many women at once. Estrogen overload?"

None of the men responded verbally. They weren't stupid. There was no right answer to that suggestion.

"Maybe it's just me. When I worked as a temp, I was usually on my own or only had to deal with office personalities for a limited time. When we're all busy, it's fine... but the break room is a hazard to my mental health. Gossip, subtle digs while trying to make sure everyone knows their assigned role in the hierarchy—that kind of thing. You'd think people would have better things to do."

"Human nature," Josiah noted. "The empty wagon rattles the loudest."

Eleanor smiled. "There is that. Anyway, I'll get used to the noise and gossip eventually. I'm adaptable."

Standish made a scoffing sound. "That's one word for it. Some would say—"

She interrupted with a mock stern look at the Southerner. "Some would know when to keep their mouths shut. Don't second guess my self-description. When I want input, I'll ask for it."

Standish mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.

"Oh, if only it was that easy," Buck muttered.

The undercover agent's response to the perceived criticism of his usual verbosity was an explicit hand gesture, carefully not shared with the room as Standish held up a file to mask his hand from everyone but Buck. Any idiot could have guessed from Wilmington's smirk just what had happened and how little it bothered him.

"Anyway—" Eleanor recalled their attention to herself with a sigh. "I did want to ask y'all something. Get it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak. What's this storm warning thing about then? The girls in Admin were all atwitter-something about a black cloud sighting. When Mrs. Tidwell said she needed someone to bring up some documents for signatures, they all acted like it would be volunteering for a suicide mission or something. I thought they were just pulling some kind of hazing prank as a welcome to the office thing."

There was a silent exchange of glances among the six men, each nominating one of the others to answer the question.

Eleanor sighed. "Is it that big a deal? I thought the Estrogen Brigade was exaggerating the issue."

Failing a response from the others, Standish could always be depended on to answer a direct question, usually truthfully. "The 'black cloud' is a reference to Mr. Larabee's penchant for wearing black or other dark colors, which on some occasions is reflective of his mood or state of mind—"

Buck, losing patience with Ezra's round about approach, interjected, "He means Chris is in a bad mood.

"And he's not terribly subtle about it which means other people tend to get out of his way," Standish continued. "His scowl of impatience and frown of aggravation seems to scare or intimidate people. The 'Estrogen Brigade', as you put it, seem to find encounters with his bad temper particularly alarming so they issue a warning when he is perceived to be in one of his discontented moods."

"Well, that purties it up pretty well, Ez," Tanner said. He sent a crooked grin at Eleanor. "He means Chris can be an ornery cuss and even when he don't mean to, he scares people."

She nodded slowly and looked at the folder on the desk. "I need his signature on these forms. Today. Will that be a problem?"

"We were trying to leave him alone so he could calm down," JD said. "Sometimes that works."

Eleanor got to her feet and picked up the folder. "Will he shoot me?"

The six agents stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.

"Will he hit me?"

"Hell, no!" Buck said.

"He may be brusque in demeanor and rude in language, but he seldom offers violence to anyone other than the criminal element without excessive provocation," Standish added.

She wrinkled her nose and glanced over her shoulder at them as she headed for Larabee's office door. "Then I don't get why everyone's so scared. It's the bite that takes you down, not the bark." She tapped gently on the door and heard a grunt that she took as an invitation to open the door and slip inside.

Wilmington cracked a grin. "I tell you, guys, she reminds me of my mama."

Larabee had hoped to be left alone for the rest of the afternoon and when the tap on the door sounded, he was ready to snarl at Vin or Buck since either or both were the most likely to bother him when he was in a bad mood.

When the door opened and Eleanor Merrill slipped in, he wiped the deep scowl from his face and assumed a more neutral frown. One word was about all he could manage and stay polite. "Yes?"

Taking that as an invitation to approach, she closed the door behind her and stepped towards his desk. "Mr. Larabee, Mrs. Tidwell needs a couple of signatures on these forms. I wouldn't have bothered you, but they have to be turned in before close of business today." She put the folder in front of him and flipped it open to reveal a small stack of papers, some with post-it flags indicating where signatures were required.

He studied her for a moment. There was something off about her usual calm demeanor and he didn't think it had anything to do with being intimidated by him or his mood. Eleanor Merrill didn't intimidate worth a damn, as the Seven had all discovered when they first met her.

Good. He needed a distraction. "Sit down for a minute."

She calmly seated herself in the chair and folded her hands in her lap as she waited.

He quickly flipped through the pages, scanned them for accuracy, and signed where indicated then closed the folder and slid it back towards her side of the desk.

"What's wrong?" he asked bluntly.

She blinked deliberately at him, attempting to look innocent. "Pardon?"

Larabee gave her his half smile. "You tryin' to tell me there's nothin' wrong? I have better instincts than that. And you haven't called me Mr. Larabee since about five minutes after you met me."

"I'm trying to be professional," she said with such little conviction that it came out more as a question than as a statement. "You're scary when you're mad?"

That sally was met with a small snort.

Eleanor frowned. "Hey, I'm not the one who has people issuing a 'black cloud warning'."

"Deflecting," Chris stated. "I won't fall for that. Too much practice dealing with Standish and his inability to answer a direction question with a direct answer."

She smiled. "Does he do that? I remember—"

"Eleanor." His flat tone and stare stopped her attempts at changing the subject. "What's going on?"

"Other than the Estrogen Brigade in Admin driving me to despair with gossip and silly games?"

"Can't help you there," Larabee said with a grimace.

"Tell me, Chris, you probably have experience in this area," Eleanor said earnestly. "Exactly how many of the ninnies can I slap upside the head before I get stuck in an anger management seminar?"

Larabee's eyes widened as his mind processed her words, then he let out a sharp bark of laughter.

In the bullpen, the sudden laugh registered and brought six heads up to exchange glances.

"Should have known she could get to him," Buck mused. "She reminds me of my Mama. She always knew just what to say."

Chris enjoyed the laugh as a release from tension but then refocused and stared her down once more. "That may be one issue, but that's not the one that's really bothering you."

She sighed and studied her hands instead of meeting his eyes. "It's personal."

Larabee snapped to attention. "Joe's all right?"

She smiled at him, pleased that he was concerned for her deployed Army husband. "Yes, he's fine. But my-mind is kind of caught up because we were Skyping last night."

"And he brought up a problem?"

Eleanor gave him an admiring smile. "Damn, Chris, you're good. I've got to work on my poker face. It's evidently letting me down here. Not a problem—exactly."

"Anything I can help with?"

She countered with her own question. "I have a personal question for you. When you were deployed with the Seals, were you married at the time?"

His mind flashed to Sarah and easily imagined her in Eleanor's position. "Yeah, for a couple of years, then I got out. So tell me what's going on. Something to do with being left at home to worry?"

"Good news and bad. Joe got his orders. He'll be home in three months—all going well. Or as my granny used to say 'God willin' and the creek don't rise'."

"That's good. Are you worried about something happening?" That was an obvious concern but it would keep her talking and maybe lead to further disclosures.

That question provoked a well-deserved eye roll. "Duh. That's a constant, but I pray a lot—and so does my whole family. I told y'all that I moved to Denver because Joe's parents are in an assisted living place on the outskirts. The plan is when Joe gets out, we'll live here so we can be close by and help them out."

"Sounds like a good plan. So?"

She took a deep breath. "So last night Joe said—damn. I can't think about it without getting anxious." She took another breath before blurting out, "He wants me to go ahead and buy a house."

Larabee leaned back in his chair, relaxing now that he knew her problem wasn't life threatening or anything horrible. "And that's a problem—why?"

She gawked at him and jumped to her feet to lean over his desk and stare him down. "Why?! What do you mean WHY?!"

The sudden loudness of the feminine voice made six heads come up again. All they could hear clearly was the last sentence.

JD broke the silence. "Damn. What are they arguing about?"

"Never thought El'nor would get that loud," Vin offered.

"I daresay our fearless leader has offered provocation," Ezra added confidently.

Buck smiled reminiscently. "Dang, the old dog still has it. You should have heard Sarah when he got her going."

"You think we should check on them?" Nathan reluctantly asked no one specific.

Josiah shook his head. "Oh, no. Not getting in the midst of that. Let it run its course."

Casting a wary eye at Larabee's office door, they all got back to work.

Smirking at his latest distraction, Larabee reiterated. "He wants you to go ahead and buy a house? What's the big deal? I'm sure you know his tastes and from what I've seen of you, you won't go nuts and do something stupid or awful. So what's the problem?"

She gasped, uncomfortable with her loss of poise, and fell back into the chair clasping the arm rests as she worked at calming down.

"You aren't hyperventilating, are you?" Chris asked. "Do I need to call Nathan in here?"

"No," she said rapidly. "Just give me a second."

He waited patiently as she did some kind of deep breathing, mental centering exercise.

"Okay," she sat up straight, and continued, "I think maybe I'm a bit overwhelmed. Sorry."

"No problem. Why are you overwhelmed? You're intelligent, educated, and I think you can be trusted to buy a house. Joe evidently thinks so."

"Well, thank you, thank you,—and no! Joe is being wildly optimistic. I've never bought a house before. We've always rented."

"I'm still not getting it," Larabee replied. "Break it down for me. Like we're staging a bust. What exactly do you think are the problems with you buying a house without your husband's input?"

"That's the first one. He won't be here to give an opinion."

Larabee waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing we can do about that, and since he doesn't seem to mind, let that one go. If he doesn't like the choice you make, he doesn't get to complain about it."

Eleanor had calmed down and her mind was working again as she countered, "It's the largest financial investment we'll ever make. We've been saving money for years. What if I buy a lemon?"

"Lemons are cars," Larabee corrected, trying and failing to hide his amusement. "And that's what the inspection process is for. To make sure there are no problems with the structure or appliances."

"Who inspects it?"

"Your realtor would contact—"

"I don't have a realtor," she snipped.

Larabee shook his head. "There's probably only a thousand or so in Denver. Shouldn't be a problem to find one."

"How would I know if this person is a good realtor or a con artist?"

Larabee, with his usual lack of patience, decided to cut to the chase. "In other words, you're scared of making the decision by yourself?"

That might have worked as a manipulation on JD, but not on Eleanor. "Well, duh. I'm not used to making the BIG decisions by myself. Joe and I are a partnership. We do that kind of thing together—but he doesn't want to wait three months to get started. He figures if I go ahead now, I'll be out of my apartment, moved into the house, and have our stuff out of storage so I'll be all settled in by the time he gets home."

"Makes sense. Do you resent him asking you to do it?"

"No. Yeah. Shoot. I don't know. Maybe." She grimaced at him. "Why did I think it was a good idea to ask your opinion?"

"Because you knew I'd tell you the truth," he replied.

"But do you have advice to offer?" she challenged. "Or just questions?"

"I have advice and something better," he said with his half-smile.

"I'm afraid to ask." It was a slight exaggeration, but not by much. She recognized that smile. It had been described to her as his 'kiss my ass' smirk. He tended to use it when confronted by an authority figure he didn't respect. Or, in this case, when he knew something she didn't.

"The reason I am—was—in such a bad mood is that Judge Travis told me that the boys and I have accumulated too many vacation days. Evidently, sick days don't count. Like it or not, Team Seven will be on stand down next week. The whole week."

"And that helps me, how?" she asked cautiously.

"I haven't told the boys yet, because Lord knows when they don't have work to do, they'll find trouble to get into. But this could solve both our problems. We'll make finding you a house our team project for next week." Larabee smiled and gave a deep sigh of satisfaction.

"What?" It was as much disbelief as asking how it would work.

"We'll organize it like a bust," he explained. "Ezra has real estate and financing contacts. It's part of Vin's job to understand and evaluate building plans to decide where we need coverage for a bust. Josiah and Vin have both done construction work in the past. Nathan and his wife bought a home a few years ago so he's familiar with the paperwork and practical questions that should be asked. Buck is good with mechanics and appliances, and JD can help with research and electronics. The boys have also helped me with all kinds of remodeling and repair work on my own home and barn, as well as Miss Nettie's place so we know what to look for, as far as anticipating any problems."

She'd calmed down with a plan of action to consider, her expression as placid as usual. "What would I have to do?" she said, sounding tentatively hopeful.

"You would give us a list of requirements—you know, yard size, number of bedrooms—"

"Joe would love to have a garage to work on cars and maybe a toolshed," she said thoughtfully. "It needs to be handicapped accessible for some of our family to be able to come for a visit. That means wider doorways—won't that make it really hard to find a house that would work?"

Larabee rubbed his hands together. "Oh, now you're offering a challenge. The boys love nothing better than a challenge."

"And if you can't find one? Especially in just a week?"

"A challenge and a deadline?" He smirked with self-satisfaction. "Next week definitely won't be boring after all. Now you start putting together a requirement list—you think you can have something to get us started by tomorrow afternoon? Come out to my ranch for a barbecue about one and we can launch the search."

"You want to use your vacation days to look at houses? Are you sure? I don't want to impose—"

Larabee shook his head. "The boys like being helpful and hate being bored and they all actually like you. They'd do this kind of thing for Inez or Nettie or Tessa. This will give them an excuse to have some fun that won't cost them anything. Don't want to jinx us but maybe we can finally have one week of vacation where no one gets hurt and ends up in the ER at some hospital."

"I thought the Estrogen Brigade was exaggerating your reputation. Are you sure this won't be taking advantage?"

"Taking advantage? Not likely. These guys can be led, but not driven. Anyway, I can guarantee Ezra will enjoy it. He likes spending other people's money and if you're as smart as I think you are, you'll tell him what you want and turn him loose. He will want to check any contract you sign—the man's a wonder at finding loopholes and small print traps—he loves to shop, believe it or not. Bargain hunting and getting the absolute most value while living an expensive lifestyle makes him happy. He can be the brains for this and the rest of us will supply the brawn, but don't you dare tell him I said that."

She smiled. "Of course not. Thank you, Chris. I appreciate this so much and so will Joe. I can't believe how simple you make it sound but I'll trust you to make it work."

"Don't guarantee to get it done and dusted by the end of next week, but we'll definitely get the choices down to a manageable few. Leave it to me. Come on out to the ranch tomorrow, prepared to give instructions. Or if you need a ride, I can arrange that."

She got to her feet and picked up the folder of documents. "If it won't be a problem, I'd appreciate a ride since I don't really know the way out there. Can I bring anything?"

Larabee got to his feet and escorted her to the door. "Nope. We'll take care of everything." He opened the door and let her precede him into the bullpen.

"Thank you, Chris. I'll see you tomorrow." She smiled at the other six as they all watched the duo and tried to figure out what had gone on behind closed doors.

As she disappeared from sight, they waited for the ding of the elevator to tell them she was really gone before looking back at Larabee. With the impatience of youth, JD Dunne opened his mouth to ask, but Larabee beat him to the punch.

"Barbecue at my house tomorrow. One o'clock," he stated firmly. "And Ezra? You're giving Eleanor a ride out there. She hasn't had a chance to experience your Jag, has she?"

Standish shook his head slowly. "No. Is there something you'd like to tell us, Mr. Larabee?"

"Nope," Chris said, popping the 'p' sound with a satisfied grin. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Usual assignments for food. Buck, you and JD, bear in mind Eleanor's preferences. She's going to be the guest of honor."

"No problem," Wilmington replied good-naturedly.

"Now get back to work and finish up all you can. I want the decks clear for next week."

"Are you going to tell us—" Jackson began.

"Nope. You can wait until tomorrow... then all will be revealed," Chris smirked as he did a passable impression of their undercover agent's Southern accent and manner. He closed his office door behind him, leaving them to their speculations and surmises.

When he arrived at her apartment building to pick her up, Ezra was pleased to note that Eleanor showed a proper appreciation for a fine vehicle. As she fastened her seatbelt, she ran a lingering touch over the fine leather seat. "Oh, this is nice, Ezra. Joe would love to get his hands on this. But if my brother Eldon comes for a visit, you do not let him get his greasy paws on this car. He likes to drag race and that wouldn't be good for this expensive and elegant lady."

As he started the car, a thought occurred to him that perhaps she'd heard some of the rumors. It was hard to tell from her placid demeanor. "I assume you've heard some speculation—"

"Oh, please," she scoffed. "How dumb do you think I am? Or worse, how dumb do the idiots think you are?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ezra, as Josiah said empty wagons rattle. Of course, some of the Estrogen Brigade like to talk about scandals, especially those involving good-looking men—watch out for those women scorned, too. C'mon, what corrupt LEO with any sense at all would go out and buy a Jag? Or a Rolex or any other sign of conspicuous wealth?"

"That thought does not seem to occur to others with any regularity," Standish said, with perhaps a hint of bitterness.

"Rumors are carried by haters, spread by fools, and accepted by idiots," Eleanor replied. "I don't like gossip. I prefer to get to know people myself. I trust my judgment and my judgment tells me you may not be a typical LEO but you're a good one."

"I like to think so. If you've discounted bribery and corruption, what is your theory concerning my acquisition of this elegant vehicle?"

"I've got it narrowed to three possibilities," she said. "Trust fund, inheritance, or investment payoff. Since Chris says you're very good with money I could see you playing the stock market and making a profit."

"Well-reasoned," he said with a smirk and a light-hearted tone. "But wrong. The car was a guilt-appeasing gift from my mother for my 30th birthday. At the time she was married to a man who owned several car dealerships and decided to share the largesse—before dumping him and moving on to greener and richer pastures. It was her third, no fourth, marriage."

Eleanor wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Good grief. I figure if you can't get marriage right in two tries max, you should give up on the notion." She left the rest of that emotionally bomb-laden statement untouched. She didn't know the Southerner well enough to delve into sensitive subjects, even assuming he wanted to. "At least you got a great car out of it. Now, tell me about Chris's ranch. How long is the commute out there?"

Standish easily accepted the change of subject and shared his knowledge with a touch of humor as they made their way through city traffic and beyond.

Having finished a guided tour of the ranch buildings, being introduced to the horses, scratching some ears, and shown the house as well, Eleanor and Team Seven moved to the dining room.

JD had set up his laptop, Buck was putting a white board on an easel, Nathan was flipping through a local realty magazine and showing listings to Chris and Vin, while Ezra was making sure that Eleanor found a comfortable seat.

Josiah was outside manning the grill since he felt his expertise would be more useful after the house was purchased and repairs needed to be made. He also thought he was the only one who knew how to properly attend the barbecue pit—and for the time being, no one was disputing that.

Eleanor produced her very short list of requirements for the house she was looking for. "I want at least three bedrooms, two baths, and it needs to be handicap accessible so one floor, no stairs, wider doorways. It would also be a bonus to have a two car garage so Joe can have some space for a workshop."

Buck wrote the criteria on the white board while JD complained that the parameters were not enough to narrow down his search. He needed some geographic limits. This statement sparked a debate concerning good neighborhoods, schools, and other future considerations which raged unchecked while Eleanor held her peace and left the decision to those who were more familiar with the city and its surrounding environs until they finally listed four areas that would be a good match for the Merrills' needs.

Dunne set to work. He had more than 100 possibilities in less than ten minutes.

"We can narrow that down by price range," Larabee suggested.

"We have some leeway," Eleanor said. "We have a lot saved. It does sort of depend on what kinds of repairs or remodeling might be needed."

"Maybe eliminate anything over 10 years old," Nathan said.

"I don't mind if it's an older home, if it's in good shape," Eleanor said.

Nathan made a big note on the whiteboard: Built less than ten years ago.

"Hey," Buck said, leaning over Dunne's shoulder, "that one has a huge veranda, a wet bar, and a built in grill. That would be a great place for parties." He added wet bar to the list.

"I don't want a wet bar," Eleanor said quietly. "I just want a nice home, not a party place."

Ezra sat next to her and watched her reaction to the usual Team Seven chaos as the rest of the men clustered behind Dunne's shoulder and pointed to pictures and argued with escalating volume.

Buck was writing more and more items on the whiteboard while Nathan tried to wrest the marker back from him to make changes of his own. Chris and Vin were debating the landscaping options and how large a lot was actually needed and whether a cabin would work as well as a ranch house.

When Mrs. Merrill stopped talking and her jaw tightened, Standish was the only one paying attention. "Gentlemen," he said.

They ignored him and got louder.

"It only makes sense to have enough property to—"

"You cain't find a house for that much money that—"

"You got a wet bar and a grill, all it needs is a hot tub—"

"Buck, back off. I'm doing this."

"The construction in that part of town is cheap and won't last. Cookie cutter—"

A shrill and piercing whistle cut through the cacophony and brought silence as the five turned towards the other end of the room to look at Standish—who was still sitting at the table, hiding his face in his palm—and saw Eleanor Merrill, on her feet and removing two fingers from her mouth before crossing her arms and giving them all a scolding look.

Vin opened his mouth to ask a question, then decided silence was a better option. Chris agreed with him.

Nathan was a braver man than either of them. "Is something wrong, Eleanor?"

She directed a frown at the white board. Nathan, being a wise and married man, distanced himself from the board and took his seat at the table again.

"What?" Buck asked. "Did we forget something?"

Her lips compressed. After a moment, she replied, "Take the wet bar off the list of requirements."

"What? But why—"

"Buck!" That was Larabee. He knew a hot button when he saw one.

"Take the wet bar off the list," she repeated firmly. "And the hot tub."

A repentant Wilmington grabbed the eraser and quickly got rid of the offending items. "Anything else?"

"That will do for now." She reseated her self and took a deep calming breath in the silence. "I'm sorry. Maybe I'm over reacting. Joe and I don't drink and don't allow alcoholic beverages in our home, so we don't need a wet bar in the house."

Tanner tilted his head and met her eyes. "Fam'ly?"

"Yep," she replied. "Alcoholics and alcohol abusers on both sides."

"But you worked in a bar," JD protested.

"Yes, I did, but I didn't drink," she replied. "I needed the money for college but basically I was doing a favor for a cop friend of my dad's. Now can we get back on track?"

"In defense of my colleagues, dear lady," Standish drawled, "their enthusiasm for the task overcame their good sense. They did not mean to rudely ignore your own point of view."

"We did what?" JD said, looking confused.

"We weren't listening to what she said," Vin said quietly.

"I can put up with quite a lot," Eleanor commented, eyes on the table, "but I will not put up with being ignored. I'm sorry if you think I'm being too picky or sensitive. I'm not always good at asking for help or taking it when I can get it. Please try to remember, the idea was for you to help me, not do it for me."

Larabee winced. He'd thought he could treat this like a case, but it had gotten away from him. "Sorry, Eleanor."

"Guys, we're supposed to be finding a house she'll like—not your dream house," Nathan added, looking pointedly at Buck. He managed to ignore his own contribution to the chaos.

There were several more muttered apologies and everyone was reseated at the table in a subdued atmosphere.

"Let's start again," Standish suggested. He stood and cleared the white board and began rewriting the list, this time only including what Eleanor had approved.

By the time Josiah came in from the patio to announce the ribs were ready, they'd narrowed it down to a short list of ten for further investigation and research was underway.

Coffee and slices of pecan pie were distributed and enjoyed as Josiah was brought up to date on the current list of ten possibilities and shown the printouts JD had created which included statistics and pictures.

"I know a realtor who would have more insight into these properties and their locations," Standish said, pulling out his cellphone. "With your permission, Eleanor, I will contact her and let her get started on winnowing the list."

The lady nodded. "Chris said he thought you'd know someone."

Not trusting the current low level of noise to continue, Ezra excused himself from the room to make his call in private.

"Y'all do know that I am not taking all of you with me when I go look at these places?" Her tone was calm but firm.

"How can we help you if we can't go with you?" JD protested.

Josiah raised his eyebrows. "What did I miss?"

"Usual circus," Larabee muttered.

"Oh." Josiah nodded. He knew Team Seven en masse could be a bit hard to take for the uninitiated.

"I think we'd be more use once she's down to the last two choices anyway," Tanner stated. "Or fixin' up the place she picks out."

"Where's the fun in that?" Buck whined.

Eleanor sighed and shook her head. "It's not meant to be fun. It's meant to be the biggest financial decision I've ever had to make—without my husband."

"You're missing him," Josiah stated.

She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the sudden dampness of her eyes. "More than usual. I'm not used to being on my own for this kind of responsibility."

"You need a hug?" Wilmington suggested immediately. He got to his feet and came around the table without waiting for a response.

"Yes, I think I do," she agreed, getting to her feet and meeting him with open arms. He enfolded her and just held her as she embraced him, tucking her face into the curve where his shoulder met his neck.

"Do you need more than one?" Nathan asked.

There was a choked laugh as she stepped back and wiped at her eyes with her left hand. "If you're volunteering? Sure, why not?"

The scraping of chairs on the hardwood floor warned her before she saw the surge of movement.

"Form a line," Larabee snapped. He wasn't joining in, but he was insuring that things didn't get messy. Too messy.

As Dunne took his turn he said, "Since Ezra looks more like your husband, maybe it'd work better if you hugged him?" He had no idea why his comment or his hug had induced giggles in the lady but was glad he'd lightened the mood, however inadvertently.

Tanner and Sanchez also had their turn at comforting and Eleanor's equilibrium had been restored though she was still using a tissue to dab at her eyes when Standish returned and scanned the room's occupants. "What just happened here?"

"Never mind," Larabee said. "What did the realtor say?"

"Thanks to MJ, our original ten has now been reduced to three," Standish informed them. "But on the other hand, she has offered one more property for consideration and is continuing her research."

"What happened to the other seven?" Jackson inquired.

Standish consulted his small notepad. "According to MJ's professional listings, which are more up to date than the site that Mr. Dunne accessed, four of them are no longer on the market, one has been taken off the market while major plumbing repairs are being made, and as for the other two the owners or realtors involved demonstrated considerable ability in photo manipulation in their depiction of both the locations and amenities those properties afforded."

Larabee held out a hand and took the notes to study them himself.

"What?" Dunne asked, confused by the Southerner's report.

"He means somebody got tricky takin' the pictures," Tanner interpreted.

"The one on Miners Avenue backs up to a car dealership," Larabee said. "Only a block over from the highway."

Eleanor winced. "While it might be convenient if Joe got a job there as a mechanic, it would certainly have lots of noise and traffic. So... that's a no."

"How come this one only shows pictures of the front of the house, the porch, and yard?" Vin asked, as JD printed out pictures to put on the white board.

"Good question," Larabee replied. "Probably needs some repair work. Or the owner is still living there and it's a mess inside."

"I'm not afraid of cleaning up a mess but if there's structural damage, that's a no," Eleanor stated.

Josiah chimed in. "It could be that the wall paper or paint on the walls would be a turn off, but paint is not that expensive so it wouldn't hurt to keep it on the list."

"Okay, so we now have a list of four houses to go see. When can we set up times for tours?" Nathan asked.

Eleanor raised a hand to get their attention. "I already told you that I am not going to tour properties with all seven of you in tow. You do remember that while you are off this week, I am still working?"

JD started to ask again why they all couldn't go—then thought better of it.

"We could divide up the list and do a preliminary check on these four without you. Just to make sure they need to still be on the list," Larabee announced. "If we see all the places on Monday, we could take pictures and report back to you after work and have dinner at The Saloon. We could set up a tour just for you—with one or two of us—maybe on Tuesday after work?"

"Or perhaps Mrs. Tidwell could be persuaded to give you the day off on Tuesday so we can get on with it," Standish proposed.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow in his direction. "I've only been on the job a few weeks, Ezra. It's probably too soon to start asking for time off."

"Nonsense," the Southerner returned. "This is an exceptional circumstance and Tessa is a reasonable woman."

"Besides, she prob'ly thinks you're doin' her a favor by keepin' us busy and out of her hair," Vin said with a shy grin. "Last time we had free time on our hands, we painted the outside of her house."

"Only had EMTs there twice though," Nathan remarked. "Not bad for a week off."

"Would have been once if Buck hadn't managed to get stuck in the chimney," JD said, dodging the long arm which reached for his head to administer a slap.

"I did not get stuck," Buck protested. "I was just a little—"

"Stuck," Vin repeated.

"Damn lucky you didn't break a leg," Jackson said firmly.

"How—" Eleanor began. "No, never mind. I guess I can talk to Mrs. Tidwell on Monday..."

"No need," Standish said smoothly. "I already advised her of our plan after talking to MJ. She graciously consented so you are free on Tuesday to visit the homes yourself and make financial arrangements if needed."

"You called her on a Saturday?" Josiah said.

"You have her private phone number?" Buck asked with a leer. "I thought she kept her private life—"

"You shut up," Standish said to Wilmington. "Eleanor, if you are ready, we can depart this locale and its resident ruffians before they descend into disorder once more."

"Sounds like a good idea," she said, getting to her feet. "I still have laundry to do today." She looked around the group. "Honestly, thank you for your help. I guess I'll see y'all on Tuesday—some of y'all," she amended.

The first text came in as she was settling in at her desk on Monday morning with a travel mug of coffee.

Eleanor, this is JD. I've set up a group text so we can keep you in the loop as we visit the houses and you can answer questions. Hope that's okay. JD

Sounds good. Thanks. EM

Throughout the morning, the texts kept coming, each one signed with initials so she was in no doubt as to the sender's identity, as if she couldn't guess, mostly through syntax and word usage.

How large a lawn do you want? This one place in the Pinewood area has just a narrow strip of lawn in the front and backs onto the alley so no backyard at all. It would be very low maintenance. NJ

Sounds a bit claustrophobic. Joe doesn't mind yardwork so a quarter acre minimum? EM

Vin said you wouldn't like it. He said to ask if you want a garden. I'll tell the guys to add a bigger yard to the search list. NJ

I wouldn't mind planting some vegetables or herbs but not a big garden. I don't remember Pinewood being on the list anyway. Where are y'all? EM

We decided to look around a few other neighborhoods just in case we could find a real winner that maybe wasn't online yet. Two vehicles but we're going to get together again soon. NJ

What do you think of this? More privacy, big yard and patio, workshop in the back. BW

Eleanor studied the pictures before sending a reply. Since neither of us is used to driving on ice and snow in the winter, I think I'd prefer not to have a 2 mile long driveway set at a 45 degree angle. I don't remember this house being on the list. EM

Just shopping around, sweetheart. Don't want to miss a prize by keeping our eyes closed. BW

How long a commute are you willing to put up with? CL

Never mind, I already answered Mr. Larabee's question by reminding him of the parameters we discussed on Saturday. Do you or your esteemed spouse have a preference as to style of home? Mr. Larabee is advocating for Ranch, Mr. Tanner for Farmhouse, Mr. Sanchez for Victorian, Mr. Jackson for Contemporary Modern, Mr. Dunne for Cape Cod, and Mr. Wilmington's taste could be mistaken for Wild West Bordello, if such a classification exists. ES

Eleanor had to wait until she stopped laughing to reply. Thank you for clarifying that, Ezra. Our tastes tend to run more toward Farm or Ranch, with modern amenities, but not rustic. The outside of the house is not as important as the fact it must be one story and handicap accessible. EM

How do you feel about round windows? JD

Portholes? EM

No, big round windows instead of square ones on the front of the house. Wait, I'll send you a picture. JD

Eleanor studied the picture of a very modern, oddly shaped house with convex round windows about three feet in diameter on either side of the front door.

I don't think so. It looks like an aquarium. I'm sure it's a custom glass situation too so God forbid one of them got broken. It would cost a fortune to replace. I don't remember seeing a picture of this house on Saturday. Are you adding to the list? EM

Think we found the perfect place. Check this out. BW

It took her a few moments to figure out that it was a house, not a spaceship surrounded by trees, in the picture.

It looks like a UFO. Where is this? That looks like it's miles up in the mountains. EM

Is that a no? BW

Yes, it's a no. Are you sticking to the list we came up with or just window shopping the whole county? EM

The reply was a winking emoji which didn't really answer the question.

We found a model home having an open house. They're calling it RANCH, but it's a bit over the top. Buck likes it. How does Joe feel about antlers? Half of the stuff in the house is made with antlers, including the light fixtures. Lots of cow hide too. JD

Eleanor studied the attached photos and suppressed a shudder.

How about a fire pit and built in grill? Needs work. JS

NO... and no. Unless I've lost my memory there were only FOUR houses on the list. Stick to the list. EM

When her phone buzzed with a text notification—again—Eleanor Merrill sighed as she met Tessa Tidwell's eyes.

Tessa didn't mind the interruption as they'd been hard at work going over some files and could use a break. "Are you going to check that?"

"I'm sorry—" Eleanor began.

"Oh, I know it's not you. Team Seven gets very—enthusiastic?—about the projects they are on, work or play. You should have seen them the first year I recruited them to help with the Salvation Army Angel Tree at Christmas. They basically took over, organized it like a bust, bullied or persuaded other teams to volunteer their time—it was ruthlessly efficient in a chaotic manner," Tessa replied. "Chris gave orders, Ezra pushed for discounts and kept an eye on the cashiers to make sure there were no mistakes, Buck flirted and lightened the mood until Chris sent him out to help Vin who was in charge in the parking lot with loading the trailers and vehicles, and the others were shopping, which had its own ups and downs."

"When Chris, Mr. Larabee, offered to help me look for a house, I didn't expect this level of—of, uh... assistance?"

Tessa smiled. "To be honest, giving them a project is the best way to keep them out of trouble. Some day we'll go for coffee after work and I'll tell you about the times Judge Travis forced them to take vacation time, when they didn't have a project. Poor Nathan. The inventive ways those guys can injure themselves, usually while trying to stave off boredom or help someone? The judge suggested Nathan lead a seminar on first aid since he has such diverse experience."

"If I wanted to deal with a circus, I'd have contacted my family. Three older brothers, two younger... and twenty-two adult male cousins, not to mention the uncles. I thought Team Seven would be a bit calmer and more business-like." The phone buzzed again. "I guess I'd better check," Eleanor said reluctantly.

She swiped the phone and opened the text window for the group chat. She showed the screen to Mrs. Tidwell. Judging from the pictures, it seemed that the seven had joined forces again and were at least in the same neighborhood now, though again, the houses were not on the list.

How much remodeling do you want to do? The kitchen needs to be reconfigured. Could take down a wall. Might have to widen a few doors. JS

How do you feel about sunken living rooms? It's only sunk about 4 inches to make some kind of pit in front of the fireplace. I think it's stupid. Josiah likes it but Nathan says it's an accident waiting to happen. CL

Buck thinks it's a dream house. JD doesn't see a problem with it because he likes the layout of the rooms. I tried to tell them that four rooms filled with hot pink shag carpet would be a lot of work to take up and replace. NJ

She typed back a response If the whole kitchen needs work, maybe not. Hot pink shag? No. Shag is so seventies. My grandparents had shag carpets. A sunken living room would be a problem for wheelchairs, so no. As for remodeling, it would be nice if the house was move in ready. Or could be ready in less than two months. That would give me a month to get moved in before Joe gets home. Are y'all even at the same house? EM

Ignore the cretins, my dear. They continue to try to add unapproved houses to the list. Mr. Tanner has wandered off on his own physically but the others continue to wander in their interpretation of the assignment to find suitable housing for you and your spouse. I will insist Mr. Larabee snarl them into compliance and get them back on task. ES

Eleanor took the phone back and texted her reply.

Gentlemen, please remember that I am at WORK. Please remember we have a time limit and stop adding things to the list. Mrs. Tidwell is being very considerate about all the interruptions, but I will be seeing you this evening so please stop texting me. I am turning off my phone NOW. EM

She sighed as she turned the phone off and dropped it into a desk drawer. "I'm really beginning to think this was a bad idea. It's the only the first day. I don't know how anyone can deal with that whole group at once. Two hardly speak, two always make authoritative pronouncements, two never stop bickering, and one makes humorous and snide comments on the other six."

"Once they have an assignment with structure, they'll settle in to work. They all have, uh, big personalities, but I'll admit it is easier to deal with them one on one, or one or two at a time." Tessa smiled and shook her head. "Remind me to tell you how they helped me get rid of two bullies who were harassing the Administration Staff. Aside from prank wars, there's a reason that intelligent people don't get on the wrong side of Team Seven."

Reading the latest text from Eleanor, JD said, "Guys, I think she's mad. She just turned off her phone."

"Why would she be mad? We haven't been that bad, have we?" Nathan asked, taking his phone out and scrolling quickly through the group texts. "What the hell?"

Larabee glared at the group. "It was supposed to be four houses we were checking out. How the hell did that turn into 217 texts and pictures?"

Team Seven had claimed the back room at The Saloon again and had JD's laptop set up with a slideshow of their day's work to share with Eleanor Merrill. It was just after 5:30 PM when she entered the room, accompanied with her own form of backup in the person of Mrs. Tessa Tidwell.

"Uh-oh," was JD's only comment as all seven got to their feet and stood almost at attention. There was an icy glint in the formidable Mrs. Tidwell's eyes that boded ill for someone, maybe all of them.

"Gentlemen," she said, sounding very insincere about the title, "we need to talk."

There was a quick exchange of glances which led to everyone pinning eyes on their fearless leader in black.

Well, hell. He was the one who'd volunteered them for this so he'd take the heat—or the ice. "Mrs. Tidwell," he began, for this was definitely not 'Tessa' speaking.

She held up a hand. "Mr. Larabee, I understand you all have good intentions, but in the absence of an actual plan of action with detailed parameters and assigned roles, you have created more chaos than order and added to a stressful situation for Eleanor by causing confusion and distraction. Any other supervisor would be extremely upset with her for the constant interruptions interfering with her ability to do her job."

She frowned as she met each man's eyes in turn, then continued, "Fortunately, or unfortunately, I know too well from past experience how well the seven of you do when unleashed on an unsuspecting world with down time so I attach no blame to Eleanor for failing to maintain control of the situation." Her icy glaze fixed on Larabee.

He managed not to flinch but he did meet her stare. "I suppose you have a plan to fix this situation?" He knew he was running out of patience with the whole endeavor, but having committed he wasn't going to try to back out of the mission.

Tidwell's expression softened. "Of course. Work smarter, not harder...and the less confusion, the better. Ezra, knowing you and your eidetic memory and almost OCD need to control information, you've already gathered all the needed data, collated the facts, and made assessments of the target properties and which ones would best suit Eleanor and her husband. I think you can make a cogent presentation, perhaps at that corner table." She pointed to a table in the corner of the back room, as far from the team's current table as was possible while staying in the room.

Standish immediately grabbed a sheaf of photographs from the table in front of him, offered his arm to Eleanor Merrill, and escorted her to the table indicated, for once without offering an argument or attempting to get the last word.

"And what are we gonna do?" Buck said with a discontented frown which bordered on a pout. He hated feeling left out.

"When a decision is made and Eleanor has purchased a house and knows what needs to be done to make her new house a home, you will all use your talents, abilities, and skills to help her in practical ways such as painting and carpentry or home repairs, then eventually moving furniture and other belongings out of storage."

Tidwell moved to the chair Ezra had vacated and they all sat down again as she smiled and said, "But right now you are going to fill me in on what you've been doing today. It sounds like you had some fun exploring the real estate market around Denver. And do not try to tell me that you managed to go a whole day without finding some kind of trouble because I will not believe you."

"Who? Us?" Tanner said, beaming a smile of angelic innocence.

"I tell you, Tessa, you wouldn't believe this one house—looked like a damned UFO. JD, get that picture up on the laptop," Buck demanded.

"Oh, good, a slide show," Mrs. Tidwell said with every appearance of sincere enjoyment and let the rapid outpouring of the day's events entertain her.

"Though inundated with information earlier, have you formed any firm opinions on the available offerings? Or would you prefer to narrow the field further?" Standish asked, spreading several photos of houses across the table.

Eleanor sifted through the photos, separating them swiftly into two piles with one having very few pictures. The larger pile she pushed away on the table top, then pulled the smaller stack towards her and laid them out in a row, leaving only three homes under consideration.

Ezra nodded. "Each of these is easily within your price range even with making allowances for the need for repairs or modifications. With a pre-approved loan from your financial institution, making the purchase will be relatively simple and quickly accomplished. There are other mitigating factors to consider. The locations vary a bit, one is in a more rural area while the other two are suburban but closer to downtown. A longer commuting time is a tradeoff for being in a quieter and less trafficked locale. All three of these are one story homes. None of them are completely handicap accessible but could easily be made so with a bit of remodeling. Josiah made notes for each property on the type and projected costs of work needed. Do you have further criteria to narrow it down?"

Eleanor shook her head. "I'm not terribly picky. It's not like I have a dream home in mind that I have to find or create. Joe and I are both adaptable. My must haves—a workshop or garage for Joe, a functional kitchen, a double oven would be a bonus, and I want it as handicap friendly as possible. My father-in-law and several other relatives need a flat entryway or a ramp if they come to visit—and they will." She was twisting her wedding ring set around her finger but that was the only sign of that her usual calm demeanor was only on the surface. "I think I'm just overwhelmed."

"I do not wish to be presumptuous, but if I might offer my opinion?" the Southerner said gently.

"Please do."

"I rarely suffer from indecision concerning business matters, having been trained at an early age by my dear mother to weigh all factors, consider all options, and make the selection that will have the most advantageous outcome for all concerned," Standish said. "I believe that having been renting accommodations or living on an Army post in housing provided for many years, you are unaccustomed to having so many choices offered to you and the fact that the expense being incurred is daunting is causing you to second guess your own intelligent thinking."

Her right hand came up to massage her temple. "Good summation. Your solution?"

"Without making the decision for you or coercing you in any way," he said, picking up one of the remaining three pictures and placing it directly in front of her while shuffling the others aside, "I think you and Joe would find your needs for both space, accessibility, and privacy in this property. The farmhouse has a two car garage as well as a small barn that could function as a workshop. There is also room to build additions to the house if needed in the future or possibly a guest house since it sits on a two acre lot."

Thankful to have some reliable advice, she felt the tightness of her shoulders ease up as she gave a sigh of relief. "Okay, what about the details?"

A quick flick of his hand garnered Dunne's attention and he brought the file folders with him to their private table. "Which one?"

"The farmhouse on Rivera Road," Standish replied, accepting the selected folder.

"Oh, cool, that one had—"

"JD."

The young man stopped. "Okay. I'll let you talk about it." He went back to the other table where Josiah was currently entertaining the other guys and Mrs. Tidwell with a tale concerning his attempted repairs of a church roof.

Ezra opened the folder with the relevant information and went over it with Eleanor, asking questions and making notes on the inside of the folder. An hour later, with some encouragement from Ezra and occasional additional input from one or more of the others, the meeting concluded.

Larabee assumed his usual leadership, no matter the situation, and summed up the revised plan. "So decision made, it's going to be the farmhouse. Now tomorrow morning, Eleanor and Ezra go to the Army credit union to get pre-approval on the loan—Tessa already has signed off on giving you at least the morning off, Eleanor," he said, quelling the objection before she could speak. "Then you two will meet with the real estate agent and inspect the property yourself. IF it meets with your approval, you can get the agent to put in your offer and set up the official inspection. The rest of us will be gathering intel based on the notes we made on what needs doing to make this place more accessible and any repairs that we already know about. After the inspection, there might be more to do, but we can start getting estimates on paint samples and hardware brochures for planning purposes while we're killing time."

"Road trip to Lowes!" Buck said with a grin, rubbing his hands together.

"Just don't get lost in there again," Tanner muttered.

"You're the one who gave him the gift certificate for his birthday," JD countered. "How many tools does a man need any how?"

"There is no good answer to that question, JD," said Sanchez.

"Why is Ezra going to the bank with her?" Jackson asked.

Larabee scowled at the question. "Because Ezra is going to be checking on every contract or paper she signs. Some of these—" There was an obvious moment of self-censorship due to the presence of the ladies. "—these bozos don't respect women who try to do business on their own and if anyone is going to spot a loophole or problem in a contract it will be Ezra. Since her husband can't be there, she may need some backup and Ezra knows how to deal with those types."

"Unfortunately, Chris is quite right," Mrs. Tidwell chimed in. "You remember what happened when I tried to handle car repairs on my own. And while Eleanor is a grown woman and will be making her own decisions, Ezra will be supportive but not controlling. He's good at that." She shared a smile with the Southerner.

The others, having earned their way back into Mrs. Tidwell's good graces, did not risk earning her wrath again by exploring that exchange or asking for more information.

Ezra, of course, had to have the last word. "But rest assured, gentlemen, if my verbal skills prove unequal to the task of insuring cooperation and compliance from the financial and real estate bureaucracy, I will immediately summon Mr. Larabee to glare them into submission."

Workers at Lowes were not terribly surprised to see a full on invasion of six of the members of Team Seven even on a weekday. The men were known to have lots of building projects around the Larabee ranch, the local homeless shelter, and the church where Sanchez volunteered, and their own apartments or homes.

Knowing that the men were experienced and very decisive about their purchases, the sales staff had wisely taken a few steps back and were hovering in the vicinity to be available if they were needed but avoiding being involved in the direct line of fire of the ongoing—and loud—'discussion' of kitchen plumbing and hardware that was occurring in that section of the store.

The sound of a text alert caused a sudden silence as all the men stopped to watch Larabee pull out his phone and read the text. He looked up with a grin. "It's a go. Ezra has an inspector lined up to do the formal inspection today. If all goes well, they'll close tomorrow."

"That's fast," Jackson said with a frown.

"That's expedited," Sanchez replied.

"It don't hurt that Ez has connections all over town," Tanner said with a grin. "In just about ev'ry kinda business or government department."

"Or he knows where the bodies are buried," Wilmington said with a snicker.

"What? What bodies?" Dunne asked, totally thrown.

"Not literal bodies, JD," Larabee said.

After a moment's thought, Dunne said, "Oh, you mean he knows people who owe him favors."

"Close enough," Larabee said. "Now, if they close tomorrow, she'll have the keys and we can do a walk through after that. Everybody got what we need?"

"I have the paint sample cards," Dunne said.

"Five kinds of brochures for kitchen hardware and cabinetry," Buck reported, tucking them into his back pocket.

"I've got the bathroom furnishings brochures," Jackson said.

"Light fixtures and flooring samples covered," Sanchez added. "As well as handrails and grab bars."

"If there's anything else, we can do it tomorrow," Larabee said. "For now, I think it's time for lunch."

"Reckon so, cowboy. My belly thinks my throat's been cut," Tanner said, patting his flat stomach.

"Oh, is that what all that rumbling noise was about?" Buck teased. "I thought we had a thunderstorm coming on."

Tanner flipped him off. "Somebody better feed me or I'm gonna get hangry."

"JD, give Ezra a call and see if he and Eleanor want to meet us for a late lunch."

It was with a sense of relief that the Lowes clerks watched the group depart, this time in a loud debate over cuisines and restaurant choices.

"It passed inspection," Standish said, reading a text from the realtor. "Closing has been set up for tomorrow morning at 9 AM at Sunrise Title Company."

"I can't keep taking time off work for this," Eleanor protested.

"It shouldn't take more than an hour," Ezra replied, "and Tessa is on board with getting matters settled as soon as possible, if for no other reason than to keep Team Seven out of trouble. You can also look on it as being supportive of the family of our deployed military, our patriotic duty."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're pushing it, Ezra."

"He always goes one step too far," Buck agreed.

"You should hear how he mouths off at suspects when they're threatening him," Nathan added.

Standish waved the issue away with all the concern he felt it merited. "Now, I have arranged for Domino Construction's chief contractor to meet us on site to discuss plans and estimated costs for renovations tomorrow afternoon."

"Do we know this guy?" Jackson demanded. "Some contractors—"

"Yep," Tanner replied. "Y'all remember George Donnelly? Former Team 2 agent went out on disability two years ago and went into business with his brothers. This is them."

"What still needs doing?" Buck asked.

"Nothing much can be done until we get the plans in hand," Larabee stated. "We have a lot of information to share on possible choices in hardware and appliances, but until we have remodeling plans, we don't know what is still needed."

"So when do we meet the contractor?" Dunne said eagerly.

"WE do not," his boss said. "Eleanor and Ez, maybe myself and Tanner are more than enough to handle the contractor and planning discussions. The rest of you will be more help once decisions are made."

"What? Why can't we go—" Buck began.

"I think I might be a better choice—" said Josiah.

"Aw, c'mon, why can't we—" JD said.

A shrill whistle cut through the chaos and drew all eyes to Eleanor. "This is exactly why. I have to make some decisions and I can't do it if all of all of y'all are expressing your opinions and second guessing me—usually loudly. So, while I thank you for your support and willingness to be of help, please BACK OFF."

"Well, that's us told," Tanner said, winking at Larabee.

Standish held his hand out palm up in Jackson's direction. Jackson reluctantly withdrew a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and slapped it into the other man's hand.

Eleanor cast her eyes to the heavens as if praying for strength but didn't comment.

Larabee narrowed his eyes at the duo. "You bet on Eleanor telling us to back off?"

"Not exactly," Nathan muttered.

"That she would do so at some point was not in question. The bet was on the matter of timing," Standish clarified.

"Yeah, she lasted longer than I thought she would," Jackson grumbled.

"I come from a large family, mostly male," Eleanor said. "Testosterone fueled chaos is not anything new in my experience. Now as much as I appreciate your help, I need y'all to back off until I ask you to do something—and I promise I will let you know-if you still want to be involved in my personal issues, and if you don't then no hard feelings."

Wilmington elbowed Dunne. "She so reminds me of my mama."

Six weeks later

Eleanor Merrill was not alarmed to be called into Mrs. Tidwell's office. She didn't have a guilty conscience, had been doing her job with her usual dedication to excellence, and had no reason to assume the summons was for anything but a work related question or assignment.

When Mrs. Tidwell gestured her to the seat in front of her desk with a kind smile, Eleanor felt a chill of apprehension run up her spine.

"Eleanor, I'm sure you are aware that Team Seven and Team Three were out on a bust this morning."

"Are they all right?" She'd been keeping her head down in the filing room and thus had missed the gossip.

Tessa shook her head. "More or less. If you asked one of them, the reply would be 'I'm fine' but you know how much reliance is to be put on their self-diagnosis." They shared an exasperated look. "But if you ask Nathan, Vin has a sprained wrist and bruised ribs. Buck has a badly sprained knee and will be on crutches for a while. Ezra had his bell rung and has a concussion which will cause him headaches and possibly nausea and a 'graze' to his upper arm that took 20 stitches which has him in a sling—until Nathan's not looking, I imagine. The others are fine except for minor bruising and cuts."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Eleanor said, "but why are you telling me?"

"I thought you deserved a head's up. The three of them are going to be on sick leave for at least a couple of days, then desk duty for maybe another two weeks."

Eleanor winced. "And they won't be staying at home to rest and recuperate, will they?"

"No, I don't imagine they will," Tessa replied. "Based on prior experience, they will be looking for something to do."

"You think they're going to show up at the house again?" It wasn't really a question. "We're two weeks out from the completion date. Mr. Donnelly has been wonderful but if they show up again and start interfering, he's going to—to be upset."

Surely muttering death threats under his breath would be considered 'being upset'?

Since they had gone back to work after their time off, members of Team Seven had started 'dropping by' to check on the progress of the remodeling of her new home, mostly in groups of two or three.

This also somehow involved making suggestions, offering to help, and basically getting in the way of the workers and delaying their progress as they had to stop working to explain what they were doing and why, as well as answer questions about materials and methods.

After a brief and pointed discussion with George Donnelly and Eleanor Merrill, the boys had been banished from the property except by appointment and when accompanied by Eleanor which limited their time and interference on site pretty much to weekends.

Tessa Tidwell tried to offer comfort. "At least it's only three of them. The other four will be on desk duty or assisting other teams as backup." She waited for a response.

Eleanor's face had gone blank. "So I need to take one for the team?" She frowned. After a moment's thought, she nodded. "Someone is soooo going to owe me for keeping them busy—if I can manage it. Thanks for the warning. I think that rather than have them planning on how they want to be of help, I'll come up with my own suggestions. Where are they now?"

"They've been discharged from the hospital, AMA of course, and over Nathan's protests. I believe they are currently finishing up reports and paperwork for this case. Since it's Friday, I imagine they're being sent home to rest after that, or more likely to Chris's ranch for the weekend. You know he likes to keep them under his eye when they're injured."

"Is that why Buck calls him 'Old Dog'? Because he wants his pups in sight?" Eleanor asked.

Tessa was surprised into laughter. "Could be. Though I always thought Papa Bear was more his style. He tends to growl."

Eleanor got to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to do a bit of research and make a few calls, then I'll go up to their bullpen and give the Trouble Trio a plan of action."

"If you need an excuse to go up there," Mrs. Tidwell advised, "you can say I sent you to take dictation and type up their reports—at least for Vin and Ezra who each have one arm in a sling."

"Thank you. That will get my foot in the door anyway."

"Damn it, Vin, put your arm back in that sling and get that ice pack on it," Nathan Jackson demanded. "And Ezra, you keep your sling on as well."

"It's difficult to type one handed, Mr. Jackson, in spite of my ambidexterity and Mr. Larabee requires these reports to be finished before we can escape your clutches—I mean before we can follow hospital directives and get some rest."

Before Jackson could respond to that insolence, a voice came from the doorway to the bullpen, the elevator having arrived unnoticed in the general confusion. "I think that's my cue," Eleanor Merrill said. "I heard y'all might need some help."

"Thank God," Jackson muttered. "Another sane person to help wrangle these fools."

"I wasn't planning on wrangling, just taking dictation and typing reports," Eleanor said calmly. "Who's first?"

Silence.

Shaking her head, she said, "Fine. Then I'll choose. Vin, put the damned sling back on, bring your notes if you have any, and we'll go work in the conference room where there'll be fewer distractions."

As Vin reluctantly obeyed the 'suggestion' under Larabee's commanding glare, Standish snagged Eleanor's wrist and stopped her from following him. "My dear, there's something you should know..."

"Don't worry about it, Ezra. Tessa gave me a heads up about his dyslexia. It won't be a problem."

Standish and the others all looked relieved then turned back to working on their own reports.

"And, Ezra, you're next. Do not try to type. You'll just aggravate your injury. You look like you have a headache."

Jackson snorted. "He won't admit to it."

"Why does he have to admit to it if you all know he has one anyway?" Eleanor asked with a frown. "Stop talking so loud and let him organize his thoughts and wait in peace." She went into the conference room and closed the door.

"She has a point," Josiah said, deliberately not looking at either friend.

"Ha, that's you told," Wilmington jeered at Jackson.

"Shut up, Buck. Just tell me when you need another cold pack for your knee."

Eleanor settled into a chair in front of the computer in the conference room, booted up the computer, and found the blank report form required.

Vin Tanner slouched into a seat at that end of the table with a tentative grace, adjusted the sling on his left arm, then asked, "How ya want to do this?"

"Since you have a drawl, I know I can type as fast you talk, so—" She smiled. "Just tell me a story, Vin."

"I reckon I can do that." He let out a deep breath and then began.

Reports finished, the three walking wounded had been called into the conference room at Eleanor's request. Waiting until they'd settled into their chairs while attempting to hide winces and moans, she shook her head. "Gentlemen—"

"She uses the term in lieu of more appropriate nomenclature as she is a lady," Standish murmured.

"Ezra, knock it off," she admonished without missing a beat and assumed control of the conversation once more. "I've been told y'all are going to be off duty for a few days and will have time on your hands."

"You got somethin' for us to do?" Vin asked.

"I was thinkin' we could help out at the house—" Buck began.

"I don't think my contractor really wants your help," Eleanor replied. " But yes, I have an assignment for you. It would be a favor you could do for me. You don't have to do it, of course, if you'd rather rest at home."

That statement was met with three disbelieving scowls.

"What do you have in mind, my dear? Bearing in mind our relative skill sets and our physical limitations due to our injuries?"

"You know that Mr. Donnelly and his men have fixed up the small barn that was behind the house? The roof has been repaired, new lighting and a couple of windows put in, and it's been cleared out so right now it's empty. They're paving a connecting drive from the house to the barn today so by the time y'all are ready to do something on Monday it should be ready."

"The barn? Not the house?" Buck protested.

"The house is under control. You were very helpful during demolition, but for now Mr. Donnelly has all the help he needs. Y'all aren't needed again there until it's time to move furniture," Eleanor stated firmly. "But the barn is going to be for Joe and I figured y'all might have some good ideas."

"A man cave?" Buck asked, getting excited by the prospect.

"No, not exactly. You know he's a mechanic and likes to tinker on engines and restore cars in his off time so I'm thinking you can save him some work and set up his tools and maybe buy some other stuff to make it functional for him. His tools are in storage with the furniture here in town and I can arrange to get them out of storage—once you get the all clear from Nathan to be doin' work."

"That sounds like—fun?" the Southerner said dubiously.

"Aw, Ez, I know you don't like gettin' your hands dirty, but you do like shoppin'," Tanner said. " Especially on somebody else's dime. And supervisin'. You know you like supervisin'."

"True, but with our current state of health—" The spirit was willing but his headache and dizziness were voting no to any kind of physical activity at this time.

"I'm not expecting y'all to do the heavy lifting," Eleanor stated. "The storage place has some guys who hire out to do the actual loading and unloading so they'll bring out Joe's crates of tools. I'll give them a call as soon as Nathan gives me the all clear for Monday. Y'all can figure out the layout and what all's needed to make it a working garage, shelves and that kind of thing, at least good enough for a hobby. Joe's particular about his tools but he's not picky about layout. He cares more about having things organized."

"You're giving us a free hand?" Standish clarified.

"No, not exactly. I'm giving you a budget—that you will stick to—" that seemed to be particularly aimed at the Southerner, "-and leaving it to you what needs buying and how it will be set up in the barn—garage. I know Buck and Vin like to work on cars sometimes so I thought they'd know the practicalities and what the layout should be. Ezra, I'm counting on you to bargain hunt for anything else they think needs buying like other tools or equipment he might need or whatever—and to make sure no one re-injures himself by overdoing."

Vin was already thinking about what would be needed. "We need to know what Joe's already got first."

"We'll need peg boards for the walls, or shelves maybe. Wall mounted storage, free standing? Maybe both. If he's got tool boxes..."

"Do you have an inventory?" Standish said.

"Not really. Joe might have one somewhere, but I want this to be a surprise for him so I'm not going to ask him. I think you'll need to do an inventory. I have no idea what all is in there. He only kept the really important tools since the Army had us moving a lot but now that he's going to be in one place, he'd like to have a better setup. If you need to buy equipment or bigger tools, you can have them delivered directly out there and maybe even set up for you by the deliverymen. You can get whatever you think is needed, at least until the money runs out. The question is, do you want to do this? I'll understand if it's asking too much."

"Yeehaw."

"It's got to be less borin' than sittin' home or bein' made to sit around the office."

"Anything for a lady."

She stared at them quite seriously as she added, "Do NOT make me regret this."

The grins she got in response almost made her change her mind.

Having spent the weekend being hovered over by the other four, the three on the injured list breathed a sigh of relief when they were released from custody, so to speak, when the other four finally left them on their own to go in to the office to work.

Before the uninjured got out the door and into vehicles to leave, the Three Musketeers (as JD had named them) had to listen to a long list of nags from Nathan concerning medications and using the slings and crutches properly. Chris demanded that they use Buck's truck and let him drive since it was his left leg that was injured.

It was easier to agree than to argue so with a roll of green eyes, a shrug of thin shoulders, and a snort of exasperation, the three got rid of the mother hens and planned to enjoy their day in relative peace.

The crutches were slung into the bed of the pickup and both slings were removed almost as soon as Nathan's car was gone from sight. They were grown men. They didn't need to be babied, no matter what Nathan Jackson preached.

After a leisurely breakfast and some very good coffee at the diner closest to the ranch, Buck, Vin, and Ezra drove to the construction site of the Merrill home promptly at 9 AM. Eleanor had arranged for them to meet the delivery truck from the storage facility at 9:30 and they planned to take inventory and take some measurements so they could decide what was needed and make plans.

As they pulled into the driveway and drove past the house to the barn, it became apparent that the delivery was already almost completed under the supervision of George Donnelly, the construction supervisor, who was watching two men in overalls unload the truck and place cases into the barn.

"Hey, George, I didn't think that stuff was supposed to get here for another half hour," Buck stated as he got out of his truck and limped over to join the older man.

"I thought El'nor said this place was empty," Vin commented.

Two delivery men were in the process of depositing several crates and a few cardboard boxes in the barn next to makeshift tables that consisted of some wide sheets of plywood across sawhorses. There was also a long bench inside the barn near the tables.

"It was empty," Donnelly said, "until Mrs. Merrill called and told me that you had a project. The tables are to give you a temporary place to spread stuff out to sort it and the bench is for taking a rest when you need to. She said you might need some help since you're on the injured list. That might be why she got the deliverymen here early. So you wouldn't overdo it trying to unload."

"Aw, we're fine," Buck said.

"Yeah, you look fine," Donnelly said sarcastically. "Where are your crutches? And you two—where are your slings?"

"I beg your pardon?" Standish asked.

"Mrs. Merrill told me to keep you guys from hurting yourselves while you're doing her this favor. Now I know you're hard heads, but I'm not going to disappoint that nice lady. So get the damn crutches and use them, Buck. Vin, you and Ezra, put on the damn slings and leave them on. If you don't, I have orders to call Nathan and rat you out."

"The duplicity of that woman," Standish muttered. He took the silken sling out of the small briefcase he was carrying and donned it. He refused to admit it actually did relieve some of the strain on his upper arm.

"Dang it," Tanner said, but reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the accursed sling. "Sit down on the bench, Buck. I'll get your crutches from the back of the truck."

Buck sat down obediently even as he shook his head. "She reminds me so much of my mama. Mama wasn't one to start a fuss but she had definite ideas about what she wanted and what she'd do to get it. She could be sneaky like this too."

Donnelly waited until he had all three paying attention then said, "I've got to get back to the house but I told Frank—that young guy in the green shirt—to keep an eye on you so he can help with anything you shouldn't be doing, like lifting heavy things or climbing ladders. If he needs help, he can get one of the work crew."

"And if we aren't obedient—"

"You know what'll happen," Donnelly stated firmly. He hadn't lost the authority that came with being an ATF agent. "Even if I have to leave, some of my men are keeping an eye on you and glad to do it. They'd love the chance to get you in trouble. You shouldn't have pissed them off trying to be helpful during demolition. So be smart and take better care of yourselves than you usually do. I don't want anything going wrong on my watch."

Ezra looked at his partners in crime. "Well, gentlemen, it appears we have our orders. More brain and less brawn is the order of the day."

Inventory finished, measurements taken, shopping list made, the three adjourned to Lowes as their first stop. Buck left his crutches in the back of the pickup and sneered at the other two as they were still wearing their slings. "There's no one here to tattle on us to Nathan. You gonna keep those things on?"

Vin shrugged then winced as it pulled on his bruised ribs.

"My sling is silk and matches my shirt," Ezra said with a hint of condescension. "While I may have discarded it earlier, the pull of the stitches makes returning to its support a wise decision."

"You sure you don't need the crutches?" Vin said as he watched Buck limp towards the cart corral two spaces over from the truck.

"Hell, no. I'm gonna be pushing a cart anyhow. I can just hang onto that if need to."

Within twenty minutes time, they had accumulated another large cart, this one for hauling sheets of pegboard and the one Buck was pushing for holding hooks, nails, screws, and other smaller items. They were studying and discussing additional extension cords and hardware for cabinets when Buck's cell phone signaled a text message. "Damn it."

"What's up?"

"Nathan just texted. Wants to know where my damn crutches are."

"How does he know?" Standish cast a suspicious eye around the surrounding aisles, glad his sling was still in place. He spotted a few of the store's clerks lurking nearby, but that wasn't unusual when he traveled with any of his team. They usually put on a show of some sort and outsiders found it entertaining.

Buck texted back, saying it aloud so his companions would be informed. "I've got a cart to hang onto. Don't need crutches now." After a moment, he blinked at the response.

"What'd he say?" Tanner asked, smug about the fact he was still wearing the sling so he wasn't in trouble.

"He said if I ain't ridin' in the cart, I need the damn crutches and if I don't go get 'em and use them proper, he's gonna come find us and –"

"Oh my," Standish said, sneaking a peek at Wilmington's phone. "I think putting crutches there is anatomically impossible—but you shouldn't risk it. I'll go get them. You wait here and try to spot who it was that ratted us out—again. I know very well that Nathan was not the one to think of recruiting a spy here. It had to have been Eleanor—or possibly Tessa Tidwell."

"It's a conspiracy," Buck grumbled. There were several store clerks who'd been following them around. It could be any of them. He sent each one an evil-eyed glare.

All of them melted away into the nearby aisles and disappeared from sight.

The office was very quiet when they were down three members of Team Seven. It was unsettling, like waiting for the second shoe to drop. The only relief came when Nathan got the call from the store manager at Lowe's and he immediately pounced on Buck.

"Too bad we couldn't get video and see his face," JD said.

"You think he'll try to ditch them again?" Nathan asked, placing his phone back on his desk.

"Buck isn't a slow learner," his oldest friend said with a snort. "Though we might have just made all three of them even more paranoid than usual."

Josiah waggled his eyebrows. "The wicked flee when no one pursues – Proverbs 28:1. I'd count disobeying doctor's orders as being wicked, wouldn't you?"

Ezra Standish was an unparalleled success in the field of procurement (AKA shopping). Give him a list of materials or tools needed for a job or assignment and if he didn't know where to find whatever he was looking for, he knew someone who knew where to find it. Most of the time, he could also con—talk—persuade-the seller into a discount price as well.

Chris Larabee blamed Maude for both Ezra's expensive and bargain hunting tastes—but then he blamed her for a hell of a lot concerning his most troublesome agent.

"Dang, Ez, I didn't even know we had an automotive supply depot this close," Buck exclaimed, balancing on his crutches as he slowly did a 180 and took in the ambience of oil, dust, and grease that permeated the warehouse-like building. He didn't trust his luck that Nathan or one of the ladies would not have a spy planted here as well. "How'd you find this place? How long's it been here?"

Vin sighed and slouched against the wall near the door, adjusting his sling to keep it from encroaching on his throat. He was already tired of being around people and listening to Buck go on and on about what was needed. "Ez, you realize we may never get 'im out of here?"

Ezra snickered as he seized the handle of a cart and pulled it out of the corral. "If necessary, we can always tempt him away with an offer of food. He's going to be hungry soon and there is no food court available here. Now as to our list, Buck—" Standish looked around to see that the taller man had disappeared. "Where did he go?"

Vin smirked. "He musta heard the startin' gun. Took off that way."

"We should try to keep up with him. If he slips or further injures himself, somehow I'm confident the blame will be laid at our door."

"I reckon we better keep up or he'll be tryin' to buy all kinds of things that ain't on the list. Don't want to go over budget or we'll face the wrath of El'nor." Tanner noticed a somewhat shifty expression fleetingly cross his friend's face. "Ez?" he asked suspiciously. "We are still under budget, right?" He hadn't been keeping up with it much since that wasn't really his area of expertise.

"Did you say he went down this aisle?" the Southerner said, feigning concern as he started after Wilmington. "I suppose he's looking for a creeper. Possibly a creeper combination stool would be the best value and offer greater versatility."

"Ez?" Tanner trailed after him. "Ya didn't answer my question..."

Two and a half hours later, the trio was in the process of checking out at the register. Vin and Ezra each had a large shopping cart while Buck, still balancing on his crutches for fear of Nathan's spies having followed them to this store as well, was holding few price tags for larger items that had to be taken from the back room and would be scheduled to be delivered later that day.

This time, Vin was paying attention to the totals as the cashier rang them up, despite Ezra's attempts to distract him. "Ez...what are you doin'?"

Standish spared a moment from checking items off the list as they went into the cart on the other side of the register to send a cherubic smile in his friend's direction.

It didn't work. It seldom did with any of the Seven, except possibly young Dunne and, occasionally Evie Travis.

"Ez?"

"Did you lose Buck again?" the Southerner replied with an exasperated tone, looking past the Texan to find empty air. The tickets Buck had held were now on the checkout stand conveyor belt.

Tanner spun to find that Wilmington had indeed wandered off to a display twenty feet down the aisle and went to round him up again. "Bucklin, stop shoppin'."

For a grown man, Buck had a magnificent pout. The mustache added a certain emphasis.

Unfortunately for Wilmington, that worked on Tanner about as well as Standish's innocent look or Larabee's glare. Buck found himself herded back to the checkout just as the cashier was handing Ezra the very long receipt which meant that Vin had missed seeing the total cost of this shopping expedition as Standish immediately tucked the roll of paper into his briefcase with the others.

"Delivery is set for 4 PM," the Southerner informed his friends as he started for the door following two of the shop's workers who were pushing the carts full of items they were taking with them out the door to the parking lot so they could help their injured customers with loading. "So if you care to pick up lunch, we can eat at the house and get on with setting up the tools and materials we have in hand."

"I could eat," Wilmington stated. "It'd be nice to get off these dang things too. My arms are getting sore."

"We're gonna talk about it, Ez," Tanner warned.

"About what?" Buck asked.

Standish put on his best poker face and led the way to the truck to supervise the loading.

Buck stowed his crutches and eased into the driving seat.

Vin frowned, pulled at the sling that was rubbing his neck again, and refused to be ignored. "We are gonna talk about it. You know I ain't lettin' it go."

Since Ezra refused to settle for fast food which could easily be obtained at a drive up window, the trio had called in an order at a 'real' restaurant of the Southerner's choosing and Buck and Vin were waiting in the truck for him to return with their order. There was a gym two doors down from the restaurant and pretty much a continuous stream of ladies in yoga pants and tank tops going by so Buck was distracted which gave Vin an opportunity to head off trouble-maybe.

Tanner didn't like texting at the best of times due to his issues with spelling but he could handle something short. He sent a text to Chris. Call me.

It didn't take long for his phone to ring. Buck looked at him as he answered then turned back to the sidewalk view.

"Hey, Cowboy," Vin said. "Checkin' up on us?"

Distracted from his paperwork by the text alert on his cellphone, Larabee immediately picked it up to check the message. Very few people texted him as everyone knew he didn't like interruptions at the best of times, much less those that required communication.

Chris was a bit confused when he saw it was Vin Tanner. It didn't sound like there was any kind of emergency so why would Vin have texted instead of calling in the first place? He clicked on the call icon and got an immediate answer after only one ring.

"Hey, Cowboy, checkin' up on us?"

"You wanted me to call?"

"Yeah, we just finished up for now," Vin replied to a question he hadn't asked. "Ez is getting lunch and we're headed back to the site so we can unload what we got and get some things set up. Got some deliveries coming in about two hours."

Okay, Vin was being careful of what he said like he didn't want someone to know what was going on, but he hadn't worked their duress word into the conversation.

Chris took a guess. "You want me and the boys to come out there this afternoon?"

"Sure, that'd be great," Vin replied. "Could use the extra hands."

"We could bring Eleanor—"

"No." It was quiet but emphatic. "Not a good idea. I think you boys should come out yourselves to help if you want, but don't bring El'nor."

"Why the hell not?" Chris grumbled, already growing impatient with trying to figure out what Vin was after.

"Uh, well, I think—it'd just be better." Tanner knew that was lame. "Hey, Buck, didn't Ezra say we should keep our project a secret from El'nor until we finish?"

"Don't remember him saying that but it's a good idea," Buck said in the background. Raising his voice a bit more, he told Chris, "It's gonna be a surprise so don't let her come out yet."

"Do we have a problem, Vin?" Chris growled.

"Yep."

"Something that's going to upset Eleanor?"

"Yep."

"Well, what is it?"

"Can't rightly say."

"Why not?"

"'Cause."

"Damn it, Vin, I don't have time for twenty questions."

"What's that?"

"It's a game—never mind. I get that you don't want to say anything in front of Buck. Is he the problem?"

"Not really, but could be later."

That sounded about right. If something upset Eleanor, then Eleanor being upset would upset Buck. He was always protective of ladies and as he'd said several times she reminded him of his mama so that might ramp it up even more.

Chris took a moment to run his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "Is Ezra the problem?"

"Sort of."

"Oh, for—give me something to work with here."

Tanner was beginning to get frustrated as well. "I reckon it's like a kaleidoscope, Cowboy. Two people looking through a kaleidoscope ain't going to see the same picture because no matter how careful ya are, when you hand it over them little pieces will move around some."

Larabee took a deep breath. "So I think you're telling me, that there's not a real problem yet but it's coming because two people aren't going to see things the same way?"

Tanner almost sighed with relief. "Yeah, that's about it."

"And are the two people who are going to have a problem Buck and Ezra?"

"Not exactly but maybe after the other two."

"The other two?" Chris said. "You mean Eleanor? Eleanor and Ezra are going to have a problem?"

"You got it."

Larabee thought for a moment. "This has to do with money?"

"How'd you know that?" Tanner asked.

"It's Ezra," he said flatly. "The only thing Eleanor really said to him was to stick to the budget she gave him. I'm assuming he's gone overboard?"

"Yep. They ain't gonna see that the same way."

"Damn. How far over did he go?"

"No idea."

"But you think it's going to be a big deal?"

"Yep. Comin' at it from different points of view," Tanner replied. "Think about how they was raised."

"Different ideas about money and spending it?"

"Yep. 'Bout as different as it could get. I got to go, Cowboy, Ez is coming with lunch. We'll be out at the site if y'all want to come after work. Bring beer. We'll be ready for one by then."

"I'll be thinking on the problem, Vin. See you later."

Damn. Larabee knew now what he had been hinting at. How they were raised was Tanner code that meant Maude.

Maude's attitudes and their influence on Ezra could be leading to trouble. Team Seven had witnessed a few incidents that indicated that Maude's reaction to a very expensive gift from anyone would be 'give me all you want, I'll take it'.

But Eleanor? That was very unlikely to be her response. And if Eleanor got upset, that would upset Buck which would mean a problem between Buck and Ezra and probably the rest of the team. That was what Vin was trying to warn him about.

The tricky part would be explaining to Ezra that Eleanor wouldn't want to accept what he'd bought without making him defensive by saying anything negative about his mother. He didn't need to be hurt again because he didn't know how most people thought about gifts as opposed to charity.

Ezra never liked being wrong about anything but was especially difficult when he was caught off balance and blind sided by the contrast between his upbringing and what most people would consider normal.

The other tricky part would be explaining to Eleanor why Ezra thought it was perfectly all right for him to spend his money in giving expensive gifts to someone he hardly knows and her husband whom he's never met, and why she shouldn't be offended, without telling her too much about Ezra and Maude's relationship.

And honestly, even if they did tell her about Maude, would she believe them? Maude was damned hard to understand and explain to anyone. She had to be experienced to be believed.

Damn. That's what he got for thinking he was in for a peaceful day. He'd jinxed himself.

Vin got out of the truck to take the bags from Ezra and help get them safely stowed. "Cowboy called. He and the guys are coming out this afternoon so we can put 'em to work."

As they climbed back into the truck, Standish said, "Good. Many hands make light work and since between the two of us we only have one pair of working hands, they can be useful. The major portion of our task is behind us now. All that's left is sorting, arranging, and displaying."

"I told 'im not to bring El'nor. Me and Buck said it could be a surprise for her."

Buck was busy ogling a very pretty blonde in yoga pants going into the nearby gym and didn't hear the revisionist history comment.

A gold tooth grin flashed. "Good idea. I'm sure she loves surprises."

"Man, that smells good," Buck said with a sniff as he started the truck. "Let's get to getting gone."

As Ezra had said many hands make light work. It seemed to hold true with regards to the Merrill's garage/workshop. With the aid of Frank and Phil, two of the construction workers, who had been assigned to help the injured team members plus the aid of the delivery men who assembled and set up the larger pieces of equipment, and then the arrival of the more able bodied members of Team Seven, the project was more or less complete or 'done and dusted' as Tanner would say by six o'clock. Tools were arrayed on hooks on peg boards on one wall, in tool chests on the other side of the garage, and the larger items such as the car lift and creeper were in place and ready to be used.

Buck surveyed the completed 'man cave' with great satisfaction and possibly a touch of envy. He didn't have the luxury of such a place to work on his truck indoors, unless he used the garage at the Federal Building and the judge had already cracked down on that. Something about it making a mess. He shook his head. Maybe Joe Merrill would like a buddy to work with.

Now that he was not being distracted by the to-do list, Buck noticed that while Ezra looked as pleased as punch, both Vin and Chris seemed to be a bit uneasy as they inspected the area for any needed corrections or improvements. He recalled hearing Vin saying he wanted to talk to Ezra but didn't know what that was about.

As he locked the garage door and prepared to leave, Buck noticed Ezra slipping some money to Frank and Phil, the two construction workers on loan from Donnelly. Probably a tip since they really had gone above and beyond their assigned duties and done a good job of the physical labor involved in the setup.

Ezra appreciated being rescued from the possibility of being expected to take part in menial labor of any sort so it was not unusual that Ez was being generous, though he'd shoot anyone who accused him of it.

Team Seven was gathering and the usual debate had begun—what they wanted to eat, where they wanted to eat it, and whether or not they were each going to their own homes afterward. The latter was still an issue since Nathan wanted to keep an eye on them, even if they had been obedient and kept the slings on and used the crutches. After being threatened. Bunch of mother hens.

Buck became a tad suspicious when Larabee arranged for Josiah and Nathan to load Ezra into Jackson's SUV to go get a table at Maisie's, a Southern cooking establishment that Standish and Jackson actually could agree on since they served lots of vegetables and not everything was fried.

When JD was tasked with driving Buck's truck while Wilmington and Tanner found themselves ordered into Larabee's truck for the trip to the restaurant, his suspicions were confirmed and his apprehension kicked into high gear. He sprawled across the back seat of the king cab, tucking his crutches out of the way, leaving shotgun to Vin.

Before Larabee had pulled out of the driveway, Wilmington demanded, "Okay, what's going on?"

"We got a problem, Bucklin," Tanner stated quietly.

"What?" He had a blank look on his face. He couldn't think of anything.

"Nice car lift," Larabee said.

"I'm not following."

"How much did it cost, Buck?"

"Hell, Chris, I don't know. I wasn't paying attention."

Larabee raised an eyebrow. "Were you paying attention when Eleanor gave you all a budget?"

"Not a lot, I was making lists. That was Ez's department, you know that. Why?"

"Did you see any receipts?"

"No, Ez was squirrelin' 'em away—aw, shoot." The penny dropped. "What did he do?"

"I think ya mean what did we do," Tanner corrected. "Think about it now, Buck. How much do you reckon we spent today?"

Now that it was brought to mind, he began to recall some numbers. "Damn. The car lift, even if it is kind of a small one, would probably be about half the budget she gave us."

"We all added stuff that wasn't on the list when we went to that depot place. I figured we was runnin' pretty close to the limit before we even got there. Ez kept changin' the subject and didn't let me see none of the receipts."

Larabee allowed a few seconds for that to settle in then added, "How do you think Eleanor is going to take to the idea of you guys spending so much money? Money she can't pay back?"

"Aw, hell, Chris, we ain't expecting to get paid back. It's a—I guess we can call it a gift."

"A gift? From Ezra?"

"Mostly. What's the big deal? You know he likes to give gifts to his friends. He's just sneaky about it because he don't want people thinking he's being nice." Buck thought he was still missing the point Chris was trying to make.

Tanner chimed in. "Buck, El'nor has only known us a few months. She's a married woman. We ain't even met Joe yet."

"Are you saying men can't be friends with married women?" Buck demanded indignantly. "Ezra can afford to buy this gift for her, you know he can, and it's his choice what to do with his own money."

Larabee growled. "Buck, use your head for something other than a hat rack. Think about it. You've said Eleanor reminds you of your mother. How would your mother have reacted if some man or men she barely knew tried to give her a very expensive gift—like a garage full of tools?"

Buck's blue eyes widened. "Dang. Didn't think about that. But it—c'mon, it's not like Ez's trying to make a move on her or anything. None of us are stupid enough to mess around with married women. He's just being a good friend."

"Ya think her husband is gonna see it that way?" Tanner mumbled.

"Eleanor's got good sense and she knows Ez. She ain't gonna take it the wrong way and she can explain it to Joe."

"Most women would get insulted," Chris said. "I don't want to think what Sarah would've said if it was her. The one thing Eleanor told Ezra when she asked you to do this project was that you stick to the budget. I think she's going to be mad that you didn't, mostly at Ezra, but at all three of you. And think about this... she doesn't really know Ezra all that well. It took us a couple of years to even get close to understanding the way he thinks and acts, especially where money's involved. She's not going to understand why he wants to spend that much money making a casual friend happy even if he can easily afford it."

"Goes back to how he was raised," Tanner added glumly, gazing out the window and trying not to imagine it.

Wilmington understood that comment all too well. Maude. Eleanor has never met Maude.

Damn sure Ezra hadn't told her much if anything about his ma. His issues with her were varied and deep and weren't easily discussed at the best of times. "It'd be easier to explain to Eleanor if she'd ever met Maude."

The trio contemplated in silence. No good ever came of speaking ill of someone's mother, even if it was truthful, accurate, and deserved. Maybe especially then.

"Well, she hasn't met Maude and if she did, I don't think they would have anything much in common or like each other much," Larabee stated. "Especially if Ezra was in the middle of it."

Tanner suddenly snorted.

"What?"

The Texan gave a lopsided grin. "I was just thinkin' about wrestlin'."

Larabee shot him a glare. "What the hell—"

"Cage match—Maude versus Eleanor."

Buck began to laugh. "Maude is sneaky but Eleanor has an age advantage. Maybe it should be Maude versus Nettie."

"Son of a bitch," Larabee grumbled as he got a mental image.

"No," Tanner corrected. "Ez wouldn't be in the fight. He'd have to referee."

After the laughter died down, Larabee returned to the topic as they were nearing the restaurant. "Okay, so who is going to explain Ezra to Eleanor?"

Silence.

"Buck."

"I'll give it a try," he said reluctantly. "Maybe Tessa could help with that. She has met Maude. Didn't like her, but she's met her. And I think Ezra may have told her a thing or two. Who's going to explain Eleanor to Ezra?"

"And how she's not like Maude?"

Tanner huffed. "The cowboy here would just get his back up if he tried. I'll do it. Just hope Ez don't shoot me."

"I have every confidence in you both," Larabee said with a smirk as they pulled into the parking lot of Maisie's.

"Shut up, cowboy."

Tessa Tidwell and Eleanor Merrill had never gone out to lunch together, but there was a first time for everything. Eleanor was trying not to give in to her instinctive flinch of wariness as they walked into a cozy restaurant just around the corner from the Federal Building which was popular with its employees. It was obvious from the hostess's reaction that Mrs. Tidwell was recognized on sight and they were escorted to a corner table in a quiet area of the restaurant.

Eleanor's wariness became suspicion as she saw that Buck Wilmington was already seated at the table, his crutches tucked into the corner behind his chair. He made an effort to stand as they approached, but Mrs. Tidwell quelled his movement with a gesture.

Eleanor eyed them both as she seated herself and took the menu she was offered without comment, her usual bland expression firmly locked in place.

"Thank you for meeting us here, Buck," Tidwell said. "I didn't need the commotion you'd have caused in the Admin. Area if you'd showed up on crutches, looking injured and heroic."

Wilmington preened a bit, stroking his mustache with a grin. "Now, Tessa, it's not my fault the ladies always want to mother me a bit when I'm injured."

"If you think that's mothering, you need to discuss Oedipus with your therapist," Tidwell returned and then looked at Eleanor. "You wouldn't believe the fuss the clerks make when one of the boys turns up looking injured. Quite a flutter in the dovecote. They all turn into would-be nurses and want to offer TLC."

Eleanor allowed a small smile to appear.

"Dovecote?" Buck said, not losing his grin at all. "Eleanor calls them The Estrogen Brigade." He lost his grin when he received a kick to his good leg under the table. "Ow." He turned a pouting look toward Eleanor.

Tidwell didn't seem to be offended which was promising for Buck's continuing good health. She gave a nod. "That's actually a fair description, Eleanor. Sometimes the drama queening of a few gets to me too, which is when I take a time out and find errands to run on my own."

Eleanor was extremely focused on the menu and didn't reply. Buck and Tessa exchanged looks that she pretended not to notice.

"They make their own salad dressings," Tessa commented. "And bread if you're thinking of a sandwich."

Silence fell until the waitress came to take their orders for drinks and food.

Tidwell stared at Wilmington. He cleared his throat.

Merrill took a deep breath. Unrolling her place setting, she put her napkin in her lap then carefully placed her silverware on the table. Eyes fixed on the small floral centerpiece, she finally spoke. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm about to get some bad news?"

"Now, darlin'—" he began.

"Buck." A flat syllable that issued a reprimand.

He frowned reproachfully at Tessa and heaved a sigh. "Well, no matter what it's gonna be awkward. And it ain't bad news, not exactly."

Eleanor looked up and stared into his eyes. "What? What did you do? Or should I ask what did they do?"

"It's not that bad," Buck said, trying for a charming smile.

"It's bad enough that you thought you needed to bring my boss along to this ambush so you could tell me about it," she stated, her jaw clenching.

The word 'ambush' caused both Buck and Tessa to wince. He cast a helpless look at the lady so she spoke up.

"Eleanor, whatever you're thinking, that's not what this is. I'm not included in this meeting, not an ambush, to exert undue influence. I wouldn't. I know your acquaintance with all of us is of short duration and I offered to accompany Buck in order to offer some background information and reassurance if it was needed."

Mrs. Merrill took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to relax. There was a helpful interruption as the waiter arrived to serve their drinks which gave them all a chance to calm down a bit.

"I'm surprised Buck needed backup," she said, breaking the silence.

Tessa nodded. "I know. With his reputation as a ladies' man, one would think he would be very adept at conversation."

"Hey," Buck protested, "it's different when I'm not trying to – I mean... uh...this is different."

"Okay, it's different. So what is it?"

There were times when Buck appreciated directness and then there were times like this. Fine. He could do direct. He blurted it out. "We went over budget."

Eleanor's lips tightened. "That's the one thing I told you not to do. By how much? And how much time do I have to find the money to pay it off?"

"No, no, you ain't gonna pay it off," said Buck. "There's no problem from your end. We overdid it and we'll carry the can for that—"

"The hell you will." It was a firm statement and a reminder that while a lady, Eleanor was a Texan as her accent came to the fore. "I don't need charity, Buck. My husband and I may not be rich, but we are careful with the money we do have and plan for what we need. We can do without things if we have to, but we don't need handouts."

Buck scrubbed a hand over his face and thrust his fingers through his hair. "Now, dang it, you're taking this the wrong way. Vin reckoned you would. We just figured the over budget part would just be a gift, not a handout. A housewarming gift maybe?"

Nope. From her expression that wasn't going to cut it.

Mrs. Tidwell decided Buck was floundering and chose to intervene. "Buck, why don't you go ask what desserts are available that we can take back to the boys after lunch?" She gestured towards the counter and the display cabinet in the next room.

"What? But I—"

"Now."

Uh-oh. The Look had made an appearance and it had a chilling effect. Buck grabbed his crutches, got to his feet, and made his escape

Tidwell waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Eleanor. "If I left it to him, this would take all day. I'd prefer to mind my own business but there are some things you need to know in this situation and Buck would dance all around it. Fortunately, since I'm not a man, I'm not subject to the 'man code' that says you don't diss someone's mother unless you're trying to start a fight," Tessa said, with a roll of her eyes.

Her attention and curiosity caught, Eleanor raised an eyebrow at her boss. "Whose mother are we talking about? Or not talking about?"

"Ezra's." Mrs. Tidwell took a deep breath before speaking quietly and quickly. "Eleanor, what, if anything, has Ezra told you about his mother?"

"He told me that his car was a gift from his mother and her third or fourth husband. He said it was to appease guilt –I'm assuming hers—on his 30th birthday. That's all we discussed."

"Ezra is a very private individual. I'm a bit surprised that he said that much so soon but he told me that you were refreshingly intelligent and didn't believe the rumors about him so that might explain it."

Eleanor frowned. "What has that got to do with overspending the budget and thinking I'd accept it as a gift?"

Tessa took a deep breath, released it slowly. "There's no polite or easy way to convey this—Ezra's mother Maude is a gold digger. I would call her a black widow, but she doesn't kill her husbands, she just takes them for as much money as she possibly can. I believe she was on number six last I heard."

Eleanor's eyes widened. "I knew he had money in his background—"

"I have only met Ezra's mother Maude once, and once was more than sufficient for me. Some people are just not cut out to be parents, and while they may do their best, it doesn't make for healthy relationships." Tidwell shook her head. "She claims to be under the impression that Ezra's career is his form of rebellion, as if he was a teenager, not a man in his thirties. From a very young age, when she wanted him to do something for her, she offered a bribe. When she wanted to punish him, she took things and money away."

"That's horrible," Eleanor said. "But it hardly fits with the man I met. He doesn't seem mercenary."

"I personally believe that it's proof of a loving God that somehow, somewhere, someone stepped up and provided an alternative view to Maude's rationale and a positive role model which enabled him to develop his own sense of morality. According to Ezra, things have improved between them—he attributes it to her mellowing as she is growing older. She still tries to manipulate him but he's gotten better at refusing to go along with her plans. At best, I'd say that their relationship is... awkward?"

"Now, quickly, before Buck comes back, let me just tell you that Ezra uses money to decide if he's doing well and to maintain a safety net of available cash. There may be a trust fund involved but he also saves and invests, takes part in poker tournaments and wins, and now and then, when he finds a good cause, he donates to it, especially if it has something to do with helping children."

"I don't need charity," Eleanor stated firmly.

Tidwell sighed in exasperation. "It's not charity when it's a friend. It's a gift. He likes giving gifts but for some reason, probably having to do with Maude, he has to have a way to justify it to himself. Or he tries to hide the fact he did anything anyway. Gratitude makes him uncomfortable."

"I haven't known him very long. How can he count me a friend and one that he should spend a lot of money on?"

"Friendship is not about time," Tessa hissed. "You're not stupid, Eleanor. He liked you right away. You're intelligent, articulate, and share some common interests. There's also the fact that you are happily married, which means he doesn't have to worry about you misinterpreting his friendliness as flirting. He likes you. He respects your husband for serving our country. He wanted to do something to benefit both of you as you start a new life here."

"He did that by helping with the shopping. That's all I asked him to do. He didn't have to throw money—"

"Oh for crying out loud. You're almost as stubborn as he is. He takes joy in shopping and in giving. It's a gift—one he can easily afford and he wants to give it to you and your husband. I don't know the amount, but whatever it is, it is a small amount to him. There are no strings attached. If you offer to pay him back or reject this gift, it will hurt him. It's like a little kid bringing you a picture he drew for you. He's proud of himself that he can do this for you. He counts his ability to give money as a mark of his personal success."

Tidwell paused then with deep seriousness met Merrill's eyes. "Please, Eleanor, don't hurt my friend."

While Eleanor sank into silence to ponder the issue, Buck returned to the table just in time for their lunch orders to be delivered. As they quietly ate their meals, Buck and Tessa exchanged looks and decided to let it lie.

Tanner shared a look of exasperation with Larabee as Standish had managed to elude them once more. They'd been trying most of the morning to catch him alone so they could prepare him for Eleanor Merrill's reaction, but as if sensing their intent, he'd managed to distract, deflect, disengage, and disappear once more.

"Damn it, Vin."

"Don't damn it me, cowboy," Tanner growled. "You're the one who said he could be in the office and do paperwork."

"I thought it would keep him at his desk," Larabee retorted.

"Should've known better."

" How the hell did he get away from us? There are only two ways in and out of this bullpen and we had them both covered. "

"Guess we missed one. Ez would be the one to find another one, I reckon."

"Hell, if you'd kept a tighter rein on him when you were shopping—"

"Don't give me that," Tanner replied. "I'd like to see you keep up with them two—with Buck charging all over them places like a kid in a candy store. Even on crutches he got around fast. By the time I caught up to him, Ez had got everything checked out and hid the receipts."

JD poked his head into Larabee's office. "If y'all are looking for Ezra—again—he just ducked into the conference room. Don't tell him I ratted him out. He said he was getting in touch with someone at NCIS in D.C. about those Naval weapons we found in Top Hat Bob's bigger stash. And Buck just texted me. He and Mrs. Tidwell and Eleanor are on their way back from lunch. He's bringing dessert to share." He disappeared as quickly as he'd arrived before Chris could give him an order he didn't want to obey.

"Damn it." Larabee ran exasperated fingers through his already tousled hair.

"Cowboy, mebbe we should stay out of it," Tanner suggested. "If Buck and Tessa did a good job of explainin' and Eleanor knows about Maude—she might do better talking to Ez than we could anyway."

"Damn it."

"'Specially if that's as much as you can think to say." Tanner had a twinkle in his eyes now.

"Oh, shut up. Tell the other guys to leave Ezra alone so he doesn't balk and run for cover again. We'll sic Eleanor on him. If it doesn't go well, I guess we'll just have to deal with it then."

Ezra Standish, having amused himself by dodging Larabee and Tanner's efforts to confront him all morning, glanced through the list of confiscated weapons on his laptop, pulled a business card out of his briefcase, dialed a number, and waited for his call to D.C. to connect.

"DiNozzo."

"Wildcard, I'm glad this number is still valid," he commented.

"Ace? What can this very special agent do for you today? Are you in town? There's a new restaurant-"

It was gratifying that the other man recognized his voice quickly though it had been several years since they'd crossed paths. "Unfortunately, no, I am still languishing in the less culturally refined city of Denver. We make up for it with beautiful scenery."

DiNozzo chuckled. "Always thought the scenery looked like it was set dressing from Hollywood. So what's up?"

"My team recently seized a large cache of Army and Naval weapons from a miscreant who goes by the moniker of Top Hat Bob Spikes. The bust itself was quite remarkable. I will definitely send you the video—but it has yet to go to trial so confidentiality must be maintained. My tech has been trying to trace the source of the weapons but I thought it might be easier to involve NCIS at this point in regards to the Naval weapons since it will eventually end up with your agency. You will be able to tell me which office has jurisdiction dealing with the theft so I wanted to give you a heads up in that regard before I email you the list. And of course, I need to know the appropriate email address."

DiNozzo supplied the address then a harsh voice was heard in the background growling his name. "Got to go. Dead sailor in Rock Creek Park. If that park ever closes, the murder rate may plummet," the NCIS agent muttered.

"Or they'll find a new place to dump the bodies," Standish suggested.

"Pessimist," DiNozzo accused. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll send you a copy of our report on those weapons as soon as I can. On your six, boss."

Standish hung up, put the phone down, and typed the email address before attaching the list and sending it off. He'd just closed his laptop when the door to the conference room opened. Expecting to see Larabee, he was preparing to tell the team lead about his talk with NCIS – but it wasn't Larabee. Or Tanner. Or even JD. It was Eleanor Merrill.

Standish was a very good undercover agent. One of his talents was being able to read a room and the people in it. His reading of the conference room registered that the temperature seemed to have suddenly dropped at least twenty degrees. This was not good.

Eleanor, her body language stiff and her face with a cool expression that bordered on icy, came into the room without waiting for an invitation and seated herself in the chair across the conference table from him. She folded her hands on the table in front of her and waited for him to speak.

He dialed up the charm as he smiled warmly at her. "Eleanor, you're looking particularly lovely today. I suppose you are joyfully anticipating your husband's return and the move into your refurbished house."

Her expression remained unchanged, but she tilted her head a bit to the right as she studied him. "Not going to work this time, Ezra. I mean, you're good at laying it on thick, but I'm not that gullible. You went over budget."

"Oh, please, it's not that—"

"The one thing I asked you not to do," she insisted, talking right over him. "Now I'm tryin' to figure out where I'm going to get the money to reimburse you—"

Caught a bit off guard at the very idea, Standish objected. "That's not necessary—"

"Yes, it is," she insisted. "A lady doesn't take expensive gifts from men she barely knows. A lady doesn't take gifts from men, other than her husband, especially expensive ones—and don't say those tools and the equipment weren't expensive."

Her emphasis on 'lady' made her point very clear. He had inadvertently insulted her, making her feel he was trying to buy her affections, or had some other purpose in spending large amounts of money to impress her.

Vin had tried to warn him, at least he thought that was what Vin and Chris had in mind, since they'd never actually gotten to the point. It occurred to him now that they had been dancing around a very unsubtle point in an effort to spare his feelings, specifically that Eleanor was not Maude.

Damn. He should have known better than to have thought that Maude's standards of behavior applied to anyone who'd had a normal upbringing.

He'd devote some time to analyzing his mother's attitudes and the beliefs he'd embraced unconsciously later. It was time for some damage control.

He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so wrong-footed and he was sure his confusion and hesitation was showing on his face as Eleanor's shoulders relaxed a bit. She wasn't good at confrontation either, it seemed.

"You didn't think about that, did you?" she asked.

Nothing less than full honesty would do. "No. I didn't." His smile was a bit weak. "I was enjoying myself. Making plans, finding bargains, doing a good deed that would make someone happy. I may have gotten carried away I'll admit."

"How carried away did you get?" Eleanor asked, noticeably a bit worried about the answer.

She wasn't going to like his answer. He shrugged. "I have no idea. I could figure it out—but Eleanor, there is no way in this world, that my mistake, my refusal to acquiesce to your request of keeping to a limit—should be your responsibility, financially or morally."

She sighed. "For crying out loud, Ezra. Are we talking hundreds or thousands?"

"It doesn't matter," he insisted. "I can afford it and should be required to carry the cost for my own misjudgment."

"In what world does that make any sense?" she exclaimed. "You bought me expensive gifts, I object, and you insist that your punishment is that you have to pay for them?"

"It makes perfect sense to me," Ezra stated indignantly. "I'm sure you've heard the expression, Don't do the crime if you can't do the time."

Eleanor stared at him for a moment then said, "Oh, good try. You almost make that logical. But aside from that, tell me why. Why would you want to spend that kind of money? You hardly know me."

"I'm grateful for your husband's service?" he ventured.

One eyebrow went up. "So you help his wife find a better job and give financial advice when she is buying a house."

Strike one.

"I like you. I don't actually like a lot of people."

"So you buy me lunch—not a whole damn garage full of tools."

Strike two.

"Though our acquaintance has been short, I think of you as a sister. A brother should be allowed to purchase gifts—"

"My husband and I are partners and he's the only man I'd ask to help me with just about anything. If I wanted a man to interfere and try to run my life, I already have five brothers, eight uncles, and twenty-two male cousins. I wouldn't ask them for help and if they did butt in to help without being asked, none of them would spend this kind of money without some kind of strings attached."

Strike three. Damn it. This woman was possibly as intractable as Chris Larabee. Or Chaucer.

"Stop being difficult."

"You first." Her eyes narrowed and her chin lifted in defiance.

They studied each other for a few seconds, frustrated by their lack of accord.

"Reimbursement is definitely off the table," Standish declared firmly. "I incurred the expense by my own choice, can easily afford it, and refuse to allow you to repay it. Gifts do not require reimbursement. That said, if there is some other amends you wish for me to make to restore our friendship to its previous state of amiability, I will endeavor to do whatever you devise."

Eleanor smirked. "You sure you want to give me a blank check, so to speak?"

"Within reason," he replied with a sniff of disdain. "I may not have known you for a long period of time, but you have proven yourself to be a lady with a good moral compass."

"The only reason I'm even thinking about letting you get away with this is because it will make Joe very happy," she conceded. "He deserves the best the world has to offer, but he has always been forced to settle for less because we both know better than to get into debt over our heads. We've seen enough bad management in our families."

"Then let me do this for him."

"You don't even know him."

"Why do I have to? A man can do a good deed without necessarily knowing the recipient. Many charities would not exist if people didn't believe in that principle."

"We don't need charity," she snapped.

"It's not charity, it's a gift," he replied just as sharply. "Josiah has stated on more than one occasion that it is more blessed to give than to receive. If you deny me the opportunity to give you a gift, you are also denying me a blessing."

"Do you even listen to what comes out of your mouth? You don't even believe that. You're just making stuff up now." She held up her hand to silence him, closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and thought for a moment. Brown eyes opened and fixed on him with absolute resolution. "Okay, I've decided. You want to give us a gift—us-not me. You get to explain it to Joe."

"What? Well, I suppose when he returns—"

"Oh, no. Not just no, but hell no. I'm not waiting that long. You explained it to me—you get a chance to explain it to Joe. I'm due to video chat with him this afternoon at three, which is when I'm on break. We can do it here. You get to confess to him and get his permission. If he says it's okay, fine. I'll let it go and we don't have to discuss it again. If he says no, then you return all the over budget stuff and we'll say no more about it."

"But—"

"No. There will be no negotiating. I'll see you just before three, here in this room. Lucky you—you get to meet Joe before any of the other guys. If he gets mad, he can't even punch you. And put your damn sling back on." Eleanor got to her feet and headed out with quick steps, leaving the door standing open behind her.

Vin and Chris appeared in the doorway, noting the Southerner's slightly shocked expression. "Yep, told ya. Eleanor dealt with it."

Larabee nodded. "Never seen him speechless before. Hope she didn't break him."

Standish recovered enough to respond with a gesture.

"Dang, that's rude, Ez."

Standish, having regained his mental and emotional equilibrium, prepared for his 'meeting' with Eleanor and Joe Merrill by securing the conference room and making sure all efforts to monitor or eavesdrop would be in vain.

The others all gathered in the bullpen, greeted Eleanor as she swept past them with her laptop, and were firmly ignored as she entered the room, then closed and locked the door behind her.

"JD, why can't we hear what's going on in there?" Josiah asked.

"Because Ezra disabled the mikes and the cameras," Dunne explained. "He found all of 'em too."

"Even the one you put—" Buck began.

"Yep. I guess we'll have to ask—"

"Like either of them will tell us anything," Larabee grumbled. He absolutely hated not knowing what was going on with any of his men.

"Don't have to know exactly," Vin stated. "Just want El'nor not to be mad at us and Ez not to be hurt."

"What do you think Joe will say?" Nathan asked.

"What would you say if it was Rain calling you about something like this?" Dunne asked.

Nathan went silent as he tried to imagine it.

A few minutes went by. There was no shouting from the conference room, which might have been a good sign, but neither Ezra nor Eleanor were really as loud as Larabee or Wilmington when angry. As far as they knew.

The door opened after about five minutes and Eleanor came out, closing the door behind her. She didn't look happy. She turned her frown on Chris Larabee and answered the question before it was asked. "Joe wants to talk to him alone."

Tanner pulled out Ezra's desk chair and offered it to her. "Is that good?"

"I have no idea. They seemed to hit if off anyway. Ezra seems to think the way they resemble each other might mean they're related so he's going to do an ancestry search. What that has to do with anything, I don't know. Men are so weird." Her usual placid demeanor was somewhat ruffled. "Why are you all standing around? Aren't you meant to be working?"

"We're on a break," Wilmington protested. "That's allowed."

"I haven't been out to the house—at least on the inside, lately," Josiah stated. "Why don't you tell us about the progress being made?"

A few minutes of idle conversation followed but didn't manage to distract anyone very much. As soon as the door opened, every eye turned in that direction.

Ezra stuck his head out. "Eleanor, your husband would like to speak to you."

She got up and went back into the conference room as Ezra stepped outside and joined his team in the bullpen. He blatantly ignored their stares and held up a hand for silence when one of them tried to ask a question. A few minutes later Eleanor came out of the conference room with her closed laptop. Her eyes seemed a bit damp but she seemed much more relaxed and calm.

She stopped a few feet in front of them and addressed the waiting team. "Joe and Ezra have come to an agreement and the tools and such can stay. Ezra gets free service on his car for—well, however long Joe wants to mess with it or until he feels we've paid Ezra back for the extra expense. Since Joe is happy, I'm happy—or as near happy as I can get right now. But I am telling y'all one thing—if I'm gaining another seven brothers then I expect to add more sisters to this family to dilute the testosterone. So I want to meet Rain, Nathan, and the rest of you get cracking on finding some wives or I'll start matchmaking—and Tessa will help me."

She marched out of the bullpen leaving an appalled silence behind her.

JD turned wide eyes toward Buck. "Do you think she meant it? She wants us all to get married or she isn't going to be friends with us?"

"Not sure if that's exactly what she meant," Buck said with a sigh.

"But likely," Tanner chimed in. "Dang it, Ez—"

"Oh no, I refuse to accept the blame for the matchmaking propensities of happily married women. Rain is just as guilty of –"

"Don't you go blamin' my wife," Nathan began.

"Ha! Remember when Rain tried to set Vin up with—" Wilmington responded.

Sanchez had to add his two cents. "Not to mention Mary attempting to set up blind dates for—"

"The only one hasn't tried matchmaking yet is Nettie," Vin stated, with a slightly hunted expression.

"That's 'cause JD is already on the hook for Casey," Wilmington said with a snort.

"I am not!"

"Enough!" Larabee snarled loudly. "Get back to work. We'll lay low and stop attracting her attention. Maybe she'll get busy with the house and Joe coming home and forget about it."

Ezra Standish, of course, had to have the last word. "We can only hope."