****Part 11
Farley dismounted and walked his horse along a stream. Exhaustion hung on him like a thick robe. He was tired of this fight—tired of it all. The cold water filled his worn boots quickly and he grimaced at the discomfort as he splashed further down the creek. He needed to make sure the gambler was dead or Rosen would make sure he was.
Farley led his horse as he looked for signs of the gambler's trail. The shooting to the west had become more intense and then abruptly ended. The sudden silence caused him to pause and he now wondered what the silence meant. It was a little disconcerting. Farley turned to mount his horse, putting one foot in the stirrup.
"Don't move."
Farley froze at the distinct sound of his own gun cocking behind him. He lowered his hands from the saddle and began to turn around.
"I said don't move."
Farley stood stock still, facing his horse. The gambler's voice sounded weak. Farley remembered that the man was half dead—he probably couldn't see straight and his hands had been tied. He began to doubt the gambler's ability to pull the trigger at all.
"You ain't so low as to shoot a man in the back, are ya?" The outlaw spoke without moving.
"No, but you probably are."
Farley's memory of the subverted bank robbery flashed in front of him. He could smell the burning gunpowder and pictured the young lawman as the bullet hit him from behind and smashed his face into the overturned wagon. The vivid image propelled Farley's decision to face the gambler. He sharply turned and pulled his gun ready to shoot the wounded man.
Ezra could still shoot and Farley, unfortunately, learned this lesson the hard way.
Ezra pulled the trigger once with exceptional accuracy even with his hands still tied. He watched detached as the outlaw opened and closed his mouth as if to voice his outrage at being shot. He brought a hand up to his chest fingering the growing red stain. Farley dropped to his knees then face-first into the sand.
"That was for you, JD," he whispered. "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."
"All right! Good shot!" JD's voice rang out. Ezra blinked and tried to locate the sound. It seemed to come from all directions at once. If JD was here—then it must be safe…safe for them to go back. He'd enjoy a game of chance with the young sheriff—under the circumstances, he may let the kid win a few hands. He smiled weakly.
"JD?" He listened despairingly, hoping to hear the sound of the young man's voice again. A hoarse groan filled his ears. He realized with alarm that he had emitted the sound himself. He observed his roped hands still holding the gun steady and felt detached from his own body. His right leg throbbed, reminding him that it was still attached. He held very still, afraid that any movement would shatter his grip on reality. It was not JD's voice, Ezra told himself. I am alone.
Chris Larabee suddenly stood before him. Another apparition? The black-clad man crouched down to better meet Ezra's bewildered gaze.
"Ezra, it's me. It's Chris. Put the gun down." Chris's voice was soft but firm, trying to break through the gambler's fever-fueled confusion.
Ezra tried to aim the gun, but it was starting to weigh heavy in his grasp. Larabee's voice seemed to come from a single source, unlike JD's.
"No." Ezra curled his finger around the trigger. "You…you will not force me to leave…I'm…I am going back."
"Good Ezra, that's good. I'm going back, too." Chris opened his hand and reached out. "C'mon. Let's go. You can ride with me."
Ezra stared at the outstretched hand. Confusion immobilized him. Had Chris really come for him? As he struggled to understand, his arms were suddenly gripped in gloved hands and his aim redirected to the cloudless sky. He threw his weight back trying to get free but was no match for the two men that held him. Nathan and Buck had crept up on their delirious friend from either side. They listened to him talking to Chris in the same faltering voice they had just heard calling out for JD. When the hammer clicked back both men reached down and pulled Ezra's arms up. Buck took Farley's gun away and tossed it on the ground. Ezra fought them with weakening strength as Buck moved behind, wrapping his long arms around his friend and holding tight. The mustached lawman could feel the heat of the gambler's fever and his own shirt was soon wet with blood. Chris still stood in front of him, moving closer. Familiar voices seemed to soak into his saturated mind and Ezra tried to distinguish them from his waking nightmare.
"I'll get your things, Nathan." Vin offered, jogging back to their horses.
Chris stayed in front of Ezra, talking continuously in a soft voice. He held Ezra's hands still so that Nathan could cut the ropes that bit into his skin. As soon as his hands were free the gambler tried to break away again, but Buck continued to hold him.
"Ezra! It's over! Listen to me, will ya? It's done now." Chris pulled off his gloves and grasped Ezra's face with both hands. "You have to stop fighting us. We're your friends. I know that ain't always clear but it's true." Buck could not remember the last time he had heard Chris Larabee string so many words together.
"It's done...?" Ezra slowly repeated, his eyes bloodshot and watery. The four men leaned in close to hear him. "What's done?" The gambler asked, his voice fading.
"The trade." Chris settled back on his heels, his gaze never leaving Ezra's face. "The trade is done. Do you remember the man you left tied up in the Clarion? He was James Rosen's son and he wanted to trade him for you."
"Unfortunately, his son got dead," Buck added, "Things got complicated. That's how all the shootin' got started."
"Y'all traded for me?" Ezra began his brow furrowing. "I was traded for a dead man…I suppose I'm worth that price." They all heard the disappointment in his soft southern drawl.
"Damnit, Ezra! That ain't what I'm tryin' to tell you." Frustration filled Chris's words. Riding into a gun battle seemed a hell of a lot easier than trying to communicate with the conman. "You're my friend." Chris looked around at the others. "We're all your friends. There ain't any price on that."
You're my friend. Ezra wasn't sure if he had said it out loud. He weakened, falling against Buck for support. Nathan tilted back a canteen, encouraging him to drink.
"Ezra, I'm sorry." The healer wet a cloth and placed gentle pressure on the bleeding bullet wound in his shoulder. "I didn't trust you and I shoulda." He began to examine the extent of the conman's injuries. He put his arm across Ezra's chest and leaned him forward.
Nathan frowned at the lash marks. "You're still bleedin'. We're not that far out. Let's get you back home."
When he set Ezra back against Buck, the gambler collapsed. Buck panicked and held him tight but Nathan was calm. "It's OK, Buck. Let's get him home now."
Vin returned, carrying Nathan's saddlebags. They set to work preparing Ezra for the trip back. Nathan cleaned up and wrapped some of his open wounds the best he could. When the healer saw how swollen Ezra's leg was he braced it. As a result, it was difficult to situate him on a horse. It was decided that Chris would hold him and Vin would lead his horse.
The horses moved at an agonizingly slow pace toward town. Chris could feel the heat radiating from the gambler's weakened body. They had put one of Nathan's shirts on him to protect him from the sun and it was already soaked through. Chris tried to keep up a litany of encouragement hoping that somehow Ezra could hear him. "Josiah, found Chaucer so you don't have to worry. We'll take care of him until you get on your feet."
It was with great relief to the lawmen when Four Corners finally appeared on the horizon.
"I'm gonna ride ahead," Nathan said, turning in his saddle. "I'll get things ready for him in the clinic."
"I'm going with you, Nate." Buck's expression was serious. "I've got some explaining to do."
M7M7M7M7
Inez heard the footsteps on the stairs and stepped out of the clinic, quietly shutting the door behind her. She gasped when she saw Buck's bloodied shirt.
"Senor Buck! Are you all right?! Did you find Ezra?"
"Yes, Darlin'," Buck smiled tiredly. "Yes, to both."
"They're right behind us, Inez," Nathan said trying to move past her. "He's hurt. I need to get things ready for him."
Inez grasped Nathan's arm. "Wait, Senor Jackson, please! Leave your dusty things out here. It's so painful for JD when he coughs. It was very difficult to coax him to sleep." She led them to a basin of water out on the porch where they washed up.
"He wanted very badly to go with you. We hid his guns. We hid his clothes." She handed Buck a towel. "I'm afraid our young sheriff is not so happy with you, senor," Inez scolded.
They entered the quiet clinic. Edith Berman was sitting in a chair next to JD's bed. She stood and nodded to Buck, indicating the chair, and went to help Nathan prepare for the others. Buck sat down wearily. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and took a good look at his friend.
JD lay on his side, sleeping deeply. His hands were together at the edge of the bed. A weak smile crossed Buck's face when he realized the kid's wrists were tied to the bed frame with a soft bandage.
"Now this here," Buck's voice was barely a whisper, "is what I call a sissy knot." He held one string between his thumb and forefinger, pulled, and the bindings fell to the floor. JD's hands shifted slightly.
"And if you can't git out of that then it's a sure testament that yer sick as a dog." He looked at JD sadly then gently plowed long fingers through the kid's tangled hair. JD stirred. His heated skin still glistened with sweat. He opened his eyes slightly. Buck smiled, waiting for him to fully wake.
"Buck?" JD inhaled with difficulty and grasped Buck's arm. "Buck, wait! I'm going with you…" He tried to rise. "I can ride."
"Yeah, I know you can ride, JD," Buck spoke softly, pressing JD back to the bed. "Ain't met a man yet that can ride better than you. And we sure could have used your help. But you can rest easy; it's over- we managed to get Ezra back on our own." The younger lawman lifted himself again, wincing with pain, and looked around the clinic.
"No, he ain't here yet. The others are bringing him." Buck shifted the chair forward until his knees were touching the bed. "I rode ahead with Nathan so I could talk to you."
JD sank back into the pillow. The side of his face was engulfed in the soft material. He regarded Buck carefully with one eye and pulled in another hard breath.
"You lied to me."
Buck sat back and sighed heavily. "Yeah, I did. I'm sorry, JD." He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to think of a way to explain what had happened. "But that ain't the worst of it. I mistrusted Ezra and probably ruined whatever friendship we had."
TBC