The countryside was starting to look more familiar, which meant home was getting closer and this abysmal, cramped and overheated stagecoach ride would soon terminate.

Home. What a strange word to have added to his vocabulary. Well, not so much added as to have found a use for. Ezra wasn't about to start fooling himself. This aberration was, at best, a temporary deviation from his norm. His experience had taught him that in the same sense that no good deed ever went unpunished, (a theory he avoided testing as often as possible), no good thing ever lasted. It was only a matter of time until fate, circumstance or reality caught up with him. With luck, he'd have time to pack his bags, say farewell and ride off with vague promises of returning some day soon. Far more likely that he would skulk out of town under the dark cover of night, leaving no trail and no incentive for anyone to search him out. Yes, running out again. Well, one should always go with one's strengths, and running was definitely his. It was one he had perfected thanks to a lifetime of practice.

A particularly hard bump broke Ezra out of his reverie. This type of trip would be so much easier if there was a train that went to Four Corners. He laughed to himself at the thought. There was barely enough town there to provide incentive for the stage to pass through. The notion of a railway was absurd. Granted, there were signs the town might grow. There was a great deal of good land in the area, and ranches and farms were being settled on a fairly consistent basis now. The town itself was even showing signs of growth even in the short time he'd been there. Having the calming influence of lawmen in the town may have been a factor.

He laughed again. Calming indeed. Never had he encountered a group of men less calming that the ensemble who guarded that town. Alone, any one of them was bound to stir some kind of trouble or mischief. Combined, they were just this side of being a whirlwind of chaos. And yet somehow, things seemed to work out.

And somehow, he had managed to fit in. It was not exactly a perfectly tailored fit, but it was working well enough. Which was why, to his complete surprise, he was headed back. He was willing to bet (given that it was pretty much a sure thing) that at least some of the team would be surprised by his return. Nathan definitely would, as the healer tended to assume the worst of Ezra and was usually reasonably accurate in that assumption. Buck would probably be at least moderately dumbfounded, while Vin would likely be baffled, but possibly pleased. JD, with the eternal optimism that manifested only in the young or naïve, would state he had fully expected the return, and Josiah would simply say that he knew Ezra would be back, as it was foretold by crows, or coyotes, or some similarly absurd sign.

Then there was Chris Larabee. He would be watching as the coach arrived, waiting to see if the promise in the telegram was right, or if their rogue gambler had again betrayed the tenuous faith that had been put in him. And if he wanted to believe that it was his power of intimidation that inspired the return to Four Corners, well that was no skin of Ezra's nose. He knew that he came back because he wanted to, and that was enough.

Wanted to? Had to? There wasn't really that much difference in the two thoughts, was there? His financial status being what it was at the moment the idea of familiar territory with a guaranteed income, ridiculously modest though it may be, was a comfort to his larcenous soul. Why he had been foolish enough to invest any of his meager savings into this trip remained a mystery to him. He supposed he had been to well conditioned over the years of responding to the commands of his mother. The siren call of untold wealth didn't hurt either, although it irritated him that he was so easily lured by that promise, given the source.

"Come to St. Louis. You won't regret the opportunity. You will regret not coming." The telegram had been straightforward and to anyone who didn't know Maude Standish, relatively innocent. Ezra had been subject to far too many regrets at his mother's hand to make that mistake. She needed him for something, and to seek him out this way meant it was likely lucrative enough to be worth the effort. Convincing Chris of the importance of the trip was another matter.

"You playing some kind of game with us Standish?" Had it been any of the others stating they needed to leave town on a family matter not only would he have had no questions but would have been offering whatever assistance was possible. The challenge of being smooth enough to be convincing without being so slick as to raise further doubts was nothing new for him and it took only a few minutes of persuasion to get the nod he was seeking. He tried not to dwell on the question of what he would have done if Chris hadn't backed down.

Stage and train allowed him to take the lengthy journey in what passed for comfort in this part of the world. It was a few long days with no opportunity presenting itself for even a moderately decent card game. He had resorted to escaping into literature, rereading some of the classics he had so loved as a child. He felt kinship then to the Count of Monte Christo, Robinson Crusoe, Odysseus and even Don Quixote that continued to exist to this day. As enjoyable as that had been, it proved to be a wasted effort.

Arriving at the Grand Inn, where he was to meet Maude, he was handed a note instead. "I am so sorry my darlin' boy, but I have had to leave town. My suite is paid for until the 21st, so you really should take advantage. Profitable card games can be found in several nearby establishments, and most of the locals are decidedly unskilled. Wonderful opportunity for you to escape that dreadful existence you have in that tiny backwater of a town." Obviously she had briefed the staff on this as well, as he was offered the key immediately. "Your suite includes breakfast and dinner in our dining room sir. You have a most kind and thoughtful mother."

Something was wrong. Kind and thoughtful were not words commonly ascribed to Maude, and it was highly unlikely she would have volunteered the information he was her son under any normal circumstances. Not that it was easy to determine what passed for normal circumstances where she was concerned.

The room had yielded no clues. Nothing indicated Maude had been here at all. He checked all of their traditional hiding places where notes or supplies could be. Too many times in the past that had been the primary method of communication when there were running a game. There was nothing stuck to the bottom of any drawers, no notes hidden under or inside anything and the floorboards all seemed secure. The room was elegant. Not necessarily the finest in town, but certainly reflecting the manner in which she preferred to live. So why would she have left it for him? Generosity did not rank amoung her virtues. Come to think of it, he wasn't certain what virtues he could list for her.

He sat on the bed for some time, mulling over the possibilities. Yes, she might have been called away urgently, or been run out of town. But if that was the case, when would she have found the time to write the note? And if she was forced out by the law, would the hotel be honouring the request? Unlikely. Most relevant to his suspicions, other that the simple fact that he knew his mother too well, was the offer itself. Maude would not have surrendered the room. This wasn't some cheap accommodation, and if she had paid for the stay, she'd have demanded a refund. If someone else had been paying, she'd have found a way to ensure she got that credit as well. There was simply no legitimate power on earth that would see Maude Standish leave empty handed. So, there was an hidden agenda of some sort. The problem was that Ezra was damned if he could figure out what that was. Instincts, honed by experience, told him one thing. He needed to get the hell out of this place, and for that matter, this town.

Despising the fact he'd be retracing his steps so quickly, he booked his return trip on the next available train and made alternate arrangements for accommodation for the night he would have to spend in town. Not surprisingly, the Grand Inn had been unwilling to provide him the requested refund, and since he was anxious to maintain as low a profile as possible, he didn't push the issue. The same need to be inconspicuous kept him from the gaming tables, which was quite possibly the worst aspect of the whole misadventure. He watched from the bar as rube after rube played poorly in front of him. When the temptation was close to being too much to cope with, he tossed back the dregs of his drink and headed to his room several blocks away, ready for an early start out of this place and back to familiar territory.

And now, here he was approaching Four Corners and finding himself in the unaccustomed circumstance of feeling he was back where he should be. How that could have happened in such a short time was perplexing, and a tad disturbing.

He was actually looking forward to seeing the reactions he'd been wondering about, and not just to prove to himself how accurate his predictions were. Tonight, there would be dinner with at least a few of the men followed by an evening of cards. A more friendly game than he preferred, with lower stakes than he favoured. But it wasn't about the poker, it was about the camaraderie. Buck would brag of his latest conquests and Vin would question the veracity of the tales. Nathan might share news of some medical trick he had learned from an outdated, but nevertheless helpful publication. Josiah would make his regular, and futile, effort to draft the men into giving up their day off to work on the church, while Chris would make certain everyone was aware of the next duty they were assigned in their peacekeeping positions. He would then work at finding out if there was an ulterior motive as to why Ezra had left, and more importantly, why he had returned ahead of schedule (or at all?). All of this happening while JD interrupted with useless bits of trivia and terrible jokes. Yes, it would be a satisfying evening.

Some twenty minutes later the stage jostled to a stop in front of the Ritz Hotel to let the passengers out. The others were being allowed only enough time to stretch their legs and enjoy a fast lunch. Ezra was the only one staying in town.

He waited for his bag to be handed down, looking up the street as he did. As expected, Chris was leaning against the door frame at the jail house, watching the activity. It was always best to watch the new arrivals in town. If he was surprised that Ezra was actually back, he didn't let on. Ezra raised a hand to the brim of his hat by way of greeting and got a quick nod as response. Not the warmest reception he'd ever had, but far from the worst.

JD's enthusiasm was at the opposite end of the spectrum. The young man all but bounded up to the stage, slapping Ezra so solidly on the back that he almost succeeded in knocking him over.

"Really Mr. Dunne. Such exuberance is entirely misplaced and decidedly inappropriate."

"Aw, don't fuss Ez. It's just good to have you back is all. Things tend to get a bit dull when you ain't around."

"A fact for which I am sure Mr. Larabee is eternally grateful." He took his bag from the driver and began the stroll toward the saloon, where he intended to enjoy a quick drink before retiring to the comfort of his room to freshen up and recover from the trip. Seeing the Chris was watching his every step, he had the sinking feeling that he was not going to be allowed that luxury of free time.

"Where are the rest of our number Mr. Dunne? It seems unnaturally quiet."

JD stopped walking for a moment, trying to recall where patrols had been assigned for the day. "Vin has patrol out by the ridge and Josiah is riding south. Nathan was out late last night –Mr. Cooper got tossed from his horse and needed tending. He's okay though."

"Is Mr. Larabee standing guard over guests in our hotel for evil doers, or has he merely positioned himself at the jail to monitor the comings and goings in our community?"

JD paused long enough to make sure he understood what was being asked. "No, the jail's empty. Chris is just – well like you said – watching."

"That would seem to account for all of our number save one. Where might Mr. Wilmington be? Or should I assume he is up to his usual habit of keeping company with a young lady."

The look on JD's face gave Ezra a moment of confusion. Eagerness disappeared to be replaced by a touch of melancholy. "Yeah, he's off, but not in the way you're thinking. Believe it or not, he's on a picnic. With Clarice." The tone as he spoke her name told him exactly what JD's opinion of that situation was.

The name was unfamiliar to him, not that he was up to date on all of the young women in town, unlike Buck. "I cannot say I recall a Miss Clarice in our midst."

"Nah, you don't know her. She got into town the day after you left. Supposed to be travelling further west, but said she was feeling poorly and decided to take a couple days away from traveling."

They had reached the saloon. The combination of the dejected look on JD's face along with his own curiosity about the situation inspired Ezra to break with his normal characteristic approach to such matters and actually offer to buy the young man a beer. Besides, he harboured the faint hope that as long as he was bolstering JD's spirits, Chris might be less likely to assign him any work, at least for the remainder of the day.

He directed JD to sit while he dropped his bag upstairs and came back down to head for the bar, only to hesitate slightly when he saw Chris at the table as well. Keeping his sigh to himself, he ordered two beers, and something more suitable for himself and returned to the table.

"Welcome back Ezra. Wasn't expecting you."

"You did receive the telegram, did you not?"

Chris nodded as he sipped at the beer. "Thought you might have taken your time a bit is all. We set the schedule without you in it, so I figured you'd take advantage of the break."

After a moment of debating whether any of that was meant as some kind of personal attack Ezra decided it wasn't and smiled in response. "The anticipation of returning to the allure and delights of our fair hamlet more than surpassed any desire to linger elsewhere."

"Yeah, we do have a special kind of charm here, don't we?"

With a look that clearly indicated what he thought of the comment, Ezra returned the conversation to the matter of interest. "Mr. Dunne informs me that the impossible has happened in my absence. While it is not unexpected that Mr. Wilmington has expressed his interest in a new female in town, our young colleague's reaction would imply there is more to it that his normal – inclinations."

"Oh, he is definitely smitten. It's not like he hasn't come close to being serious about a lady or two in the past, but this one feels different."

JD gulped a sizable portion of his beer. "So different that he doesn't seem to have time for anything, or anyone else."

"Come now Mr. Dunne. Surely you do not begrudge the man his opportunity for true love?"

"Nothing wrong with love Ezra, but he's making a fool of himself. Fawning over her, and spending all of his time – and his pay – on her. Not right, that's all."

"Would that be the same kind of attention you focus on Miss Wells whenever she is visiting town?"

Looking somewhat abashed, JD nodded slightly before defending himself. "But she only comes to town about once a week. This Clarice is always around."

"Stop frettin' JD. She won't stay forever. She's got business to deal with in San Francisco, so she'll be on her way soon enough."

As hard as it was to imagine, his face fell even further. "Maybe, but I have the feelin' she just might be taking Buck with her."

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tbc