Title: Lady Marshal, part 4 of 4
Author: Tipperary
Disclaimer: see part one.
Lady Marshal, Part Four
Chapter Five: Coming Together Again
The Ancient woke up groggily and blinked up at the pale yellow cloth tent over his head. Putting a hand to his head, he groaned as he felt the bump and slowly moved to sit up.
"Here, let me help you." The girl's voice was soft and sorrowful, but her strength was welcomed as she helped the former slave into a sitting position. Turning, Emily grabbed a nearby canteen and held it out to him, which the Ancient accepted with a nod. Seeing that he was all right, she moved to leave the tent.
"Emily," the Ancient croaked. She turned, the shadows under her eyes making her seem somewhat ghoulish in the diffuse light.
"Thank you," he said, raising the canteen. She nodded, and walked out.
The sun was already falling in the sky, but the mid-afternoon sun seemed warmer than it had a few hours ago. The weather was heating up again, and a ripple effect seemed to obscure Emily's vision as she looked out across the camp. Wiping the heat from her forehead, she shifted her thin shoulders inside her off white duster and walked across to where her husband was talking with some of the men.
"Hi," he called, brightening upon her approach. His face was so innocent when he looked on her, as if nothing else mattered, but Emily had long ago learned to see past it. She smiled in return, but without humor, and sat down heavily on the downed log next to him. He turned back to discussing the plan as she leaned heavily against his shoulder, closing her eyes. It never even occurred to her that he never once asked whether the Ancient was okay.
The men's voices floated over her as she drifted, their calm, determined tones filling her mind.
"I must admit, I never expected the Marshal to hire a bunch of gunslingers to help her," Robin was saying, his arm moving to round her shoulder, his hand resting on her head. Emily snuggled closer.
"They seemed like professionals, boss, but they had to know the odds were against them."
"Especially with that smart ass gambler with them," another concurred. "He knew our whole plan, including how many men you had." Robin felt Emily tense slightly, and he stroked her hair to soothe her. He offered the last speaker a dark look, and the man shrugged an apology.
"My guess," Robin sighed, "is that the plan was Garrett's. She's been known to face done fairly insurmountable odds on her own before. I think she revels in it somewhat. More to the point, if she hadn't been distracted, she might actually have succeeded."
"Distracted?" Emily murmured sleepily.
Robin's eyes flashed, and he grimaced slightly. "Yeah, uh, one of the men managed to light a brand behind the herd, sending them in the direction of one of her hired guns. When she looked his way to protect him, I got her gun from her."
Emily's eyes opened slightly, and she looked blankly out at the world with blue eyes. If she read the lie in his voice, she didn't say anything.
"In any case, we will have to have a very good plan when we go to break out Cash," Robin continued. "If she hasn't already ensconced him in a prison fort somewhere like Garland, we shouldn't have too much difficulty breaking him out of any of the local sheriff's jails. I doubt the Marshal still has those men she hired on her payroll, so it'll likely just be her, a sheriff and some young deputy."
"I don't think so, masser," the Ancient said softly, wandering up to the group. Robin smiled broadly at the approaching slave and nodded his hello.
"It's good to see you up, Burnsy. Have a good rest?"
"Yes sir, thank you."
"What did you mean by you don't think so?"
The Ancient pursed his lips as he settled himself down on the ground near his boss, his old bones creaking a little. "Just that I get the impression that these men are more than simple gunslingers."
"Oh come on," the frizzy haired Manny interrupted, "that big guy with the moustache looked like any other pissed off cowboy to me."
"Maybe," the Ancient agreed, "but the black man…he said something about having set up his own place. If he were just a roving mercenary for hire, I don't think he'd of said that."
"So, what, you saying the black man might be a lawman or something?" Manny laughed. "Ain't no darky lawmen, Ancient, only bad guys, like you." The others all agreed with smiles and nods, including Robin. Only Emily didn't smile, her pale blue eyes quietly reading the old man's face. The darkness she saw there made her shudder. The Ancient looked at the ground.
Suddenly, a loud rustling from the trees caused everyone to look up.
"Riders coming in!" the lookout called from his treetop. The group got to their feet, some looking up the tree as the lookout peered into the distance.
"They're ours!" the lookout called down happily. "Looks like the hunt was successful boys!"
A little over five minutes later, two exhausted looking men charged into camp and dismounted quickly. Someone took their horses as they made their way across to their leader. Robin stood quietly, his head slightly tilted to one side, a smile on his face.
Both men accepted canteens before the taller one stepped forward.
"They went Southwest, sir, to the town of Four Corners."
Moore frowned suddenly, wondering why the town sounded familiar. Looking around, he glanced at his men. "Anyone know anything about it?"
No one spoke, and most shrugged. Emily looked off towards the tent, thinking vaguely about a dime store novel she had read not long ago, maybe a year past. Vee had taken it from her. 'Jock Steele novels are all just a load of horseshit,' the Marshal had told her, but Emily had read the ones about Vee. She knew there was quite a lot of truth in them.
The novel she remembered now was about a town called Four Corners…and about a group of lawmen called the Magnificent Seven. For some reason, she found herself unable to speak about the story. Her mind's eye kept drifting to the man in the red coat lying beneath the trees, and what he'd said to her. Did his friends go to take him home? Or was he still lying there….
On Moore's other side, the Ancient stared blankly at the ground. He too knew of Four Corners. It had been the talk of the gaming tables at Tower Hill, about whether the young black man named Jackson had been telling the truth about what he did there. He ground his teeth together. No darkie lawmen, were there? Something broke inside the old man, and he looked coolly at the back of his young master.
"I've heard of Four Corners, I think, masser. Heard something while we was in Tower Hill at the gaming tables."
"Really Burnsy?" Robin smiled, nodding his encouragement. Emily regarded them quietly.
"Yes sir. It's just a frontier town, one that is pretty nice to ex-slaves, so they say, which is why it was being talked about. Apparently, there ain't no formal law there. Just a long haired kid pretending to be sheriff."
"A kid sheriff?" Manny asked, amused.
"You sure about this Burnsy?"
"Oh, yes sir. He took the job 'cause no one else wanted it. It's supposed to be a real loose place."
"Huh," Robin shook his head, and pursed his lips. "I guess Garrett must have figured we'd never look in a place as far below her station as that."
"Sounds like this is gonna be a piece of cake, boss," Manny said happily.
The Ancient looked askance at Emily, noting her suspicious look. Slowly, she inclined her head, telling him she knew he was lying…but wasn't going do anything. The ex-slave swallowed and looked back to the ground.
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Inez dropped the tray she was carrying as she walked into Ezra's room, causing the man to jump up from where he sat buttoning up his waistcoat. China shattered everywhere.
"What do you think you doing?" she demanded fiercely, stepping over the broken dishes and food to get to his side. Ezra backed off before she could touch him, one hand reaching back to steady himself on the bed knob on the headboard.
"Frankly, my dear, I could ask the same of you. When I said you could come in, that did not mean, come in and scare the hell out of me by dropping an entire tray of food onto the carpet!" he responded quickly.
"You know what I mean, Senor! You should be in bed. If Josiah sees you he'll…"
"What? Lie to me some more? No thank you, I've already had enough of that." Turning away, he finished buttoning up the top button and leaned across to the chair to grab his jacket.
Inez stomped her foot. "What are you talking about? Lie to you. He hasn't lied to you."
"Oh, but he has, Miss…Miss whoever you are. I'm not sure how, but I know there is something innately wrong with all this. I don't belong here and I don't plan on sticking around to figure out why."
Inez took a determined step forward in his direction, and her foot slipped on a piece of food. With a swear, she caught herself clumsily by grabbing hold of the dresser chair, barely avoiding ending up on the floor on her butt. Blushing angrily, she looked up to notice Ezra staring at her curiously.
"I've never seen you slip before," he said, not thinking.
"That's because I never slip, unless some annoying cardsharp provokes me!" she retorted. Then her face brightened, switching moods abruptly. "Wait, did you just remember something?"
Ezra blinked, and inhaled sharply. After a moment, he blew the air out and shook his head. "It's gone."
"But you do remember me!"
"I don't know."
"Yes, yes, you do! You remember me. See? you're wrong. You are from here. This is your place. Well, it was your place, then it was your mother's, but I'm sure you can win it back someday. But, regardless of who owns the saloon, this is your room. Your home." She paused, smiling brightly, but Ezra just shook his head at her onslaught. He leaned heavily against the wall at the head of his bed, his hands moving to cover his face.
"I don't understand what you are talking about," he said tiredly.
Inez's smile fell. "Look, I'm sorry. But Josiah said we should talk about things from your life to help you remember." She watched him for a moment, and bit her lip. "We just want you to remember…." Ezra didn't respond, and Inez had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him. Looking behind her to the floor, she sighed, "I'm sorry about this. I'll bring you another."
"No," he said, removing his hands from his face. "No, that's not necessary. I'll come down and get it. My head may hurt, Madam, but the rest of me is fine. I just…I need some air."
Inez frowned, her eyes worried. "I still think someone should be there in case you, uh, slip yourself," she pleaded. "I could go and call Senor Sanchez…."
"I'll be fine," he said curtly, his features hardening. Swallowing tightly, she looked away, hating that terrible poker face he favored so much. How could he remember how to do that, but have no idea who I am, she thought darkly. Again, Ezra reached for his coat, lifting the red fabric gingerly from the chair. For a moment, he looked at the black bloodstain on the collar, then dropped the jacket on the bed.
Inez watched him carefully, thinking she would try to get the stain out for him when he went out. As she bent down to pick up the dishes, she noticed him looking over at his closet with something akin to trepidation. Pretending disinterest, she watched as he walked over and opened the door, his eyes drifting across the handful of jackets he kept there. In front of him, neatly pressed and hung, were the plum, green, black, brown and navy blue jackets that he so loved, along with their accompanying vests. Reaching in, he pulled the black one from the rest and fingered the material.
"You don't wear that one too often," Inez remarked. "Mostly, you like the red, the plum and the green. Personally, the green is my favorite…." She smiled slyly, "it goes with your eyes."
Ezra looked back at her blankly, still holding the black jacket. "My eyes are green?"
She laughed, then stopped when she realized he was serious. She turned back to the china, and finished picking it up onto the tray.
"I'll bring a mop to clean the rest of this up," she stated, looking at the mess of food still lying there. He nodded, and put the jacket away. It was too warm for one anyway.
"Uh, before you leave, Senor, will you do me a favor?"
Ezra shrugged where he stood, busily straightening his sleeves. As he brushed down his right arm, his hand slowed down, as if aware that something was missing.
"Take these with you?"
He looked up to see her holding up a gunbelt…his gunbelt…and a shoulder holster. She moved forward and handed them to him, for which he nodded.
"And you're derringer is on the dresser," she said, pointing to the wooden antique. He looked over at the odd contraption lying on top, and then at the small oval mirror that stood above it. He'd been avoiding that particular object.
Inez nodded once more to him, then went back out the door, the tray balanced on one hip. Behind her, Ezra strapped on the guns, interested at how natural the motions felt, then looked once more at the dresser. Shutting his eyes, he made his way past the mirror without sparing his reflection a glance, and walked to the bedside table. He picked up the slim book sitting there and flipped through the pages. After a moment, he nestled it in his hand and followed Inez from the room. The derringer was ignored.
_______________________________
Josiah looked up from where he sat near the window in the jail, his feet propped up on the cold wood stove. The coffee in his left hand had long gone cold as he casually flipped through one of Nathan's medical books. Something had caused him to look up -- now, what was it?
As if in answer, JD slammed open the tall doors of the jail, his face a dark mask of irritation. Glancing out the open doors, Josiah could just make out Ezra as he sat in front of the saloon, reading Othello. Even from here, Josiah could see the forced indifference barely staying in control on the gambler's face. Meanwhile, JD glared briefly at the preacher, then stalked over to his desk to fall heavily into his chair behind it.
Over in the cells, the four prisoners looked up, interested despite themselves.
"Something the matter, Sheriff?" Cash called coolly. JD sneered at him and looked over at Josiah.
"I hate this. I hate waiting for the others to return; I hate not knowing if Buck and Nathan are alright, and I especially hate Ezra!"
The preacher sighed, shutting the huge tome with a heavy slam. "You don't hate Ezra, JD," he said softly.
"Fat lot you know. How could he not remember us? I mean, are we so unimportant to him that…."
"JD!" Josiah hissed, standing up. His voice dropped in timbre as he approached the desk. "The man has a knot the size of my fist on the back of his head. You think he likes not being able to remember you?"
JD shook his head. "He remembers how to do those damn card tricks of his. I saw him playing with a deck earlier. You know that one where he slips the card from the bottom of the deck to the top with one hand as he's cutting the cards? How come he knows how to do that, but still has no idea who I am?"
Josiah grimaced, "I don't know JD. I've been trying to figure it out, but Nathan's medical journals are not set up for the uninitiated." He frowned, and raised one hand to rub his forehead. "You just have to give him some time."
"And then there is the way he looks at me," JD continued, ignoring Josiah's refrain. "Like this house cat they had at the mansion where my momma worked back in Boston. Big, fat, ugly monster with too much hair and a nasty disposition. The darn thing would just sit there on the windowsill and stare at you for hours on end without blinking, making you feel like fish in a bowl. And if you went near it, it hissed."
Josiah raised an eyebrow at the young man, surprised by the aptness of the simile. "Well, maybe its time I go talk to him again."
"Don't bother," JD spat, pulling out his gun and checking the chamber. "He asked me specifically to keep you away from him. Something about not wanting to talk to false fathers."
Josiah visibly cringed at the words, and JD instantly regretted his statement. "Oh man, Josiah, I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have repeated…"
No, no, JD, its fine," he sighed, leaving the desk to resume his seat. "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away," he muttered sadly. He stopped at the doors, planning on closing them again, and glanced once more at the gambler across the way. As if aware of the scrutiny, Ezra looked up to stare directly at the preacher, and his mask slipped. For a moment, Josiah found himself acutely aware of the fear the other man was feeling, and his grip on the doors tightened. Then the gambler looked away, back to his book, and Josiah shut his eyes.
He slammed the doors shut just as viciously as JD had opened them.
"Josiah?" JD asked, worried. The preacher was about to reply when the thunder of rapidly approaching hooves broke in on the moment. Both lawmen were on their feet, rifles in hand and out the door in seconds. By the saloon, Ezra glanced up for a moment in the direction of the riders, his mind stumbling for a moment at the sight of the man in black leading the pack, but then it shut down again. Grimacing, he returned once more to Othello.
JD was halfway into the street, his face aglow as he recognized his friends.
"BUCK!" he yelled ecstatically.
"Nathan!" Josiah added, stepping up next to JD, his eyes on his old friend, "Lord its good to see you!" He saw the lash marks, and frowned. "Are you alright?"
"We're fine, Josiah," Buck grinned, leaping from his Gray's back. Reaching out in a practiced move, he tipped JD's bowler off his head and ruffled the kid's hair.
"Its all skin deep," Nathan agreed, dismounting more slowly. "Nothing a few bandages won't cure, and a lot of whiskey." Josiah grabbed him fiercely by the shoulder, shaking him slightly, and causing Nathan to grin. Then his face became more serious.
"How's Ezra?" the healer asked, switching tacks.
Josiah looked down at the ground. "See for yourself," he said, stepping back to give Nathan view of the man sitting quietly in front of the saloon. Buck saw Ezra at the same time, and he whooped for joy for the second time that day. He was off and running towards the gambler before Josiah could warn him.
"Ezra!" Buck called loudly. The man in question frowned, aware that that was supposed to be his name, and looked up to see a steam train heading his way. Buck was still shouting as he hit the boardwalk, "Ezra! My God, it's so good to see you! We thought we'd lost you back there. Nearly cut my heart out to think on it."
In response, Ezra stood up, the ladies man never noticing the sudden fear that crossed the younger man's features. It wasn't until he reached out to grab the gambler by the arm, and Ezra scrambled backwards to get away from him, that Buck stopped.
"What's the matter?"
"Who are you?" Ezra hissed in response, hiding behind the chair, one hand on his Remington. The others ran up a second later, and Vin pulled Buck back.
"He's lost his memory, Buck. I told you that already," the tracker whispered urgently.
"What? I thought you meant he'd forgotten being ambushed by that harpy, not…." He paused, and took another step back, shaking his arm from Vin's grip. "He gonna be okay?" he asked of Josiah. Ezra gritted his teeth at being talked of in the third person.
"Let me have a look at you, Ezra," Nathan said, stepping forward. Ezra switched his now controlled glare to the healer, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"And who might you be?"
"This here's Nathan, Ezra," Josiah said, coming around so that the man would see him. Ezra looked at him, then back at Nathan.
"The doctor?"
"Ain't no doctor, Ezra. Just a healer," Nathan explained, tilting his head slightly. "If you've got a headache, I can help. You just gotta let me look."
Sucking in a harsh breath, Ezra blinked owlishly, "I'm fine."
Nathan grimaced. "Where have I heard that before," he mumbled sourly. "Now, that ain't no small bruise on the back of your head Ezra. If you let me have a look, I might be able to help."
"I said I'm…."
"Ezra!" Josiah's voice cut through the air like a knife. "Let him look at you!" The gambler jumped slightly at the order, and he looked back at the preacher. After a second, he bit his lip and his hand fell from his gun in defeat. Stepping forward, he bowed his head to allow Nathan to lift the bandage and look at the gash.
"Still has his winning personality I see," Chris noted, staring at the gambler and crossing his arms.
"No," JD shook his head, "he doesn't."
______________________________
Marshal Garrett paced around the saloon with determined strides, occasionally looking over at the men sitting around the center table. They were all there, except Josiah who was watching the prisoners, and Ezra, who was still sitting outside reading his book. The gambler was sipping some tea Nathan had given him, only vaguely aware of the soporific effect it was having on him.
"I would guess, seeing as they have to repair their saddles and do something with the remaining cattle, that we have until at least tomorrow afternoon before they attack," Nathan was saying, his hands gripped together in front of him on the table.
"What do you reckon they know about us and this town?" Vin asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Well, they know that the Marshal had herself some extra guns. But they may think that we moved on already," Chris answered. "But then, if he's half as smart as they say he is, he would have looked up the towns in the area where he knew he'd be selling his cattle."
"Plus, Emily has read your dime novel," Garrett said quietly. The men's heads all looked up.
"You're kidding," JD said, his voice dancing dangerously close to pride. Buck cuffed him on the head again, earning the ladies man a glare.
"The damn Steele," Chris growled.
"Tell me about it," Garrett replied sourly. "In any case, it's likely that Moore will know about you seven."
"Well shoot, that just makes it more interesting," Buck laughed, slapping the table.
"Never did much like interesting," Vin snorted.
"May you live in interesting times," Nathan quoted, laughing. "Remember? The Chinese railroad workers told us that old curse."
No one answered him, and Nathan mentally slapped himself. The Marshal looked over at them confused by the sudden silence.
JD looked over at the door to the darkening sky outside, thinking about their missing friend. "I told him about that girl of his, you know, the one he helped? Li what's-her-name? He didn't remember her. Said I must be making it up. Why is he denying the idea that he might be a lawman so much?"
"Think he'll be able to help tomorrow? I saw him checking the barrel of his Remington – he knows how to handle a gun," Buck said, following JD's gaze.
"No. Leave him be. I want him in his room, safe. Nathan, I might even suggest you keep him drinking that tea of yours," Chris stated. He looked over at the Marshal. "Garrett, you will have to take his place."
She frowned. "His place?"
Chris nodded, a small smile on his face. "Yeah. We have a bit of a routine here. Ezra covers the saloon and our backs from here. Think you can do that?"
For the first time in a while, Garrett found herself smiling back. "Yeah, I think I can manage that."
Chris nodded, his grin broadening, "well, alright then."
Buck grinned. "Ladies and Gents, Robin Hood is about to meet the Sheriffs of Four Corners, and, this time, King Richard is on our side."
______________________________
Standing just outside the batwing doors, yawning into his hand, Ezra listened to their conversation with a bemused expression. Maybe…just maybe…he was what they said he was. He stepped back, leaning heavily against the wall, and stared across to the brightly lit jail where he knew the former preacher sat. His mind tripped around from thought to thought as he tried to figure out what was truth and what was not.
Inside the saloon, the voices quieted as the plan formed, and Ezra tried hard to stay attentive. After a moment, he found it was taking all his energy just to keep his eyes open, and he moved over to collapse into a chair, nearly dropping the book he'd been carrying like a lifesaver. Unconsciously, he tucked it inside his waistcoat…and fell asleep.
Ten minutes later, Nathan walked out of the saloon with Buck and Vin and headed towards the sleeping man. Between them, they carried the gambler up to his bed.
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Chapter Six: A Real Four Corners Welcome
Thursday Morning…just another day in Four Corners…
The next dawned hot and bright as the first Indian Summer of November blasted the town and forced many of the residents inside. Of course, most of them had already planned to stay in after being warned by the Seven about Moore's gang.
Up in his room, Ezra blinked his eyes open slowly, woken up by the steady noise of someone snoring off to one side. Looking over, he recognized the preacher sitting in the rocking chair by the window, covered by a blanket and looking decidedly uncomfortable as he napped. Smiling slightly, Ezra closed his eyes again, and fell back asleep.
_______________________________
By late afternoon, the men of Four Corners were beginning to get restless. In contrast, the Marshal seemed to become calmer. She sat in front of the saloon, her feet propped up on a barrel, sipping a tall glass of water. She looked across at JD in front of the jail, noticing the nervous way he kept spinning his twin colts in his hands and shook her head.
A sharp whistle echoed out from atop the jail, where Vin was stationed on the roof. He pointed in the direction of the west…and then the east. They were coming from both sides. Chris, dressed in his poncho and with his head down, looked up from where he sat in front of the Clarion, the door open for a quick retreat. Josiah and Nathan were both up at the Church end of the street -- Nathan on the balcony of his clinic, Josiah down the alley next to his work in progress. Buck was at the other end, hanging out near the blacksmith's and the boarding house. As the street quieted, the sound of gun hammers being pulled back in preparation echoed through the streets.
Marshal Garrett began to inspect her nails.
Up in his room, Ezra glanced outside the window, the still full cup of tea in his hand, the liquid inside now cold, and watched the movements of those he could see. He drummed his fingers on the sill as he considered his options. After a moment, he put the tea down and strapped on the derringer. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, the muscles in his cheeks tensing slightly at the unfamiliar face staring back at him. Finally, he pulled on the red jacket, the stain on the collar having been removed. Probably by the kind Senorita who managed the saloon (the one with the wonderfully sharp tongue). With a smile, he crept out of the room and down the back stairs to the rear of the building.
____________________________
Emily sat alone on the rise above the town, watching quietly as her husband and the others split up into two group of five to approach the town from both sides. Four men hung back with her, to be used as back up in case anything went wrong.
Vee was down there, she thought sadly, and maybe the friends of the man in red.
She glanced at the men with her, noting their unease despite all the assurances that this would be an easy raid. But people would die. Vee might die. Robin might die.
Her blue eyes filled with tears, and she bit her lower lip in a weak attempt to prevent them from falling. God, how she wanted this to be it. To be the end. Looking down on the town, she suddenly felt sure that, whatever the outcome of this day, she would leave Robin. She could no longer be apart of his fantasy.
Sitting up straighter in the saddle, she pulled her rifle out from where it was attached to the leather and settled it across her arms. Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed one of the men watching her curiously.
"I'm going to the church," she said to no one in particular.
"Um, Ma'am, I don't think Robin would want…."
"I don't care. I'm going to the church." She spurred her dark sorrel quarter horse forward, and the four men watched her leave, unsure of what to do.
"Should we go with her?" One asked nervously.
"Moore will kill us if something happens to her," another noted seriously, pulling his dark brown Stetson lower across his face. Frizzy hair was visible beneath the brim.
"But, Manny, what if he needs backup?" A third said, tapping his fingers on his saddlehorn.
None answered him, until dark brown Stetson sighed. "I'll go with her," Manny declared. "You boys stay here." With a nod to the others, he pushed his gray dappled mustang after the girl, leaving the others frowning.
___________________________________
Robin Moore rode in slowly from the east end of town, winding in past the huge boarding house, easily the largest building in town, and down the central street. He saw the Marshal immediately, sitting unconcernedly in front of the saloon with a drink in her hand. Opposite, he saw a young man with long black hair under a brown bowler leaning against the wall of the jail.
Garrett raised her glass in Moore's direction as he rode up, her face clearly amused at his appearance. Ignoring the boy sheriff, the handsome rustler rode directly up to her and pulled his horse to a halt. The four men with him spaced themselves out to cover him. In the other direction, the Ancient and his four men arrived and spread out near the church, livery and hardware store, keeping an eye out.
"Lady Marshal," Moore said, tipping his hat to her. "How are you faring?"
"Well, Robin. And you?"
"I'll feel better once you let my man out of jail. Cash is here, is he not?"
"Uh huh," she affirmed cheerily, and tilted her head to the side. "But what makes you so sure I'll let him out?"
"Because I know you're not a fool. You and the boy there are no match for my men."
She stood up slowly, her face guileless. "Me and the boy?" she repeated, smiling. "You're wrong, Moore. You do think I'm a fool, and, maybe, for a while there, I did act as one. It was foolish of me to think that Emily did not go with you willingly, but I have since readjusted my outlook. I forget the power love can have over a person, what it can do to one's judgement…." She sighed and shook her head, absently brushing a strand of dark auburn hair from her face to tuck under her hat. Then she smiled again.
"I have also readjusted my outlook concerning you. Humbling as it may be, I have come to realize you are a little too clever for me to take on my own. So, I have acquired the help of the law of Four Corners. All of them."
Moore frowned at the odd statement and looked back at the kid. JD was watching them curiously, but, as the rustler noticed with some trepidation, also without any fear. Seeing him looking at him, the kid smiled brightly, then moved to step inside the jail's doors, vanishing. Moore turned back to Garrett. She had moved to lean against a post, and was watching him with an insolent expression.
Finally, Moore shrugged. "And who, pray tell, are the law of Four Corners?"
Garrett's eyes widened in surprise, and she suddenly started to laugh. "You're kidding, right?"
Moore scowled at her and a nervous chill started to drift up his spine. "What are you going on about, Garrett?" he demanded angrily.
The Marshal stopped laughing, and a hand went to her mouth. Looking out at the men facing her, she shook her head. Then she looked up at Moore, her eyes bright.
"My God, Emily didn't tell you."
Moore stared at her with a bewildered expression. "What does Em have to do with this?"
She grinned, the first genuine, full-fledged, cheek-muscle-straining grin since Emily ran off six months ago. She laughed gaily and raised her hand up to wave across to the jail.
"Everything, Robin," her smile fell, "everything."
"Robin Moore," JD called from where he stood in the doors of the jailhouse, rifle raised and pointed directly at the blond man's head. "You and your men are under arrest!"
"Best do as he says!" Buck called from up the street, sitting atop Gray, his own rifle pointed at the men. "It's not smart to ignore a sheriff!"
"Especially ours," Nathan agreed, standing up on his balcony, his yellow boy pointed down at the Ancient and his men near the church. Josiah came around from the other side, his rifle out and pointed at their backs. Over by the Clarion, Chris had stood to help flank Moore and his men, a quiet authority to his stance.
"You're surrounded boys," Chris affirmed quietly. "I'm afraid you chose the wrong town to pick on." His lips curved into a grim smile, "you're on our territory now."
Moore's jaw dropped as he recognized the man in black, then he snapped it shut. Anger darkened his face.
"Get them!" he shouted, raising his gun at the Marshal. Before he could fire, however, the loud crack of a sawed off Winchester rifle split the air, and his gun went spinning away from him in the air. Still grinning, Garrett dove backward through the batwing doors of the saloon, pulling her guns out in one fluid move and firing.
The street came alive with dust and gunfire as Vin, the Marshal, and the others started picking off the men on the horses. Those that tried to get away were quickly dissuaded by Josiah and Buck, both men using their strength to knock the men from their horses. At one point, Garrett lit out of the safety of her position to pull Moore from his horse, driving the well-dressed man into the dirt and grime of the road. Gathering himself, he tried to discharge the derringer up his sleeve, but she simply grabbed the arm and pulled the tiny gun from his grasp. Reversing it, she pointed it directly at his forehead.
"Call them off!" She hissed, pulling him to his feet. "Call them off now!"
Robin Moore's eyes shone with surprise and shock, unable to totally comprehend the trap he'd ridden into. But, staring into the black barrel of the derringer and the cold dark brown eyes of the woman he'd mocked for too long, a sliver of reality entered his brain.
"STAND DOWN!" He yelled over the din, his voice straining to be heard. "CEASE FIRING! STAND DOWN!"
Somehow, through the fog and exploding guns, his words were heard, and the firing ceased. Looking around, Moore saw that most of his men were actually down, either dead or unconscious. Those still standing, which included the Ancient and a few others, looked about ready to collapse behind the rather poor cover they'd managed to find. Encircling them all were six men, standing roughly equidistant from each other. Not one of them even sported a scratch. One by one, his men's weapons were taken and the outlaws were told to lie down on the ground, hands behind their heads.
"How…?" Moore asked, his blue eyes blinking rapidly in the dusty air.
But Garrett wasn't listening, she was staring over at Chris. He nodded, and she glared at Moore again. "Where are Emily and the others?" she demanded. Robin clamped his mouth shut, his dirt covered brow creasing.
"I believe I have a few of them here," Ezra called from the direction of the livery. He was on Chaucer's back, leading three bound men in on foot, his Remington aimed at their backs. "I found them loitering up on the ridge south of town. Thought maybe Mr. Moore here might have left some men behind as backup." He grinned at the others, ignoring their slightly startled expressions. Recovering quickly, Buck reached out and pushed the captured men forward into the circle as Ezra dismounted. The man still wore the bandage tight around his head, but it was mostly hidden by his black hat.
"This mean you know who you are?" Buck whispered in the gambler's ear. Ezra glanced at him, his face calm, and shook his head.
"Shreds and patches," The gambler whispered back, shrugging slightly. "I'm still running on instinct." Across the way, he noticed the Ancient staring at him in complete amazement from his position on the ground. Ezra returned the gaze without recognition.
Moore swallowed, and looked out at the seven men flanking his outlaws. Then his eyes darkened with sudden understanding.
"Four Corners," he whispered angrily. "You're the Magnificent Seven."
"Well done," Garrett said, patting him on the cheek. "Now who is the fool, boy?"
Moore just stared back at her, his eyes narrowed into slits. "Fine. So what did the gambler do with my wife?"
Garrett blinked, not understanding. "What?"
"She was with the men he brought in. Where is she?"
The Marshal frowned and looked over at Ezra. He shrugged in return. Then she turned to the three men he brought in. "Well, boys?" she asked. "Where is my ward?"
"Vee?"
Garrett dropped her hold on Moore as if bit, dumping him back into the dirt. Frowning, the blond man proceeded to wipe a sleeve across his sweating face. His eyes narrowed in confusion as he watched Emily walk slowly towards them from the direction of the church. Over next to Buck, Ezra straightened slightly.
"Vee? Is it over?" The young girl asked, her motions a little sluggish.
"Emily…" Garrett stepped in her direction, then, moving more quickly, almost ran in order to meet the girl and grab her into a hug. Emily hid her head in the taller woman's shoulder, holding tight.
"Vee, I'm so sorry," she whispered urgently. Garrett shushed her, stroking the girl's back to try and still her crying.
"I know, love," the Marshal replied.
Moore struggled to his feet, well aware that the Seven's guns were still covering them all. He attempted to gather his dignity around him as he looked over at his wife. Somehow, she had betrayed him, betrayed them all. He brushed off his suit, and stood tall.
"Emily," he called, bringing her head up. She looked across at him with a tear stained face. Letting go of Garrett, she stepped away from her mentor and towards him. She opened her mouth to apologize, then stopped.
Like a statue, she became transfixed in place, staring at Ezra as if he were a ghost.
"Sweet Jesus," she breathed.
For his part, Ezra found himself smiling. "I know you," he said in wonder.
"You're alive. I…how can that be? I saw you…." her chin started to tremble, and she took a step towards him.
"The girl…you're the girl," Ezra laughed. "I know you. You're Emily Durgin. No, you're Emily Moore! Buck, I know her. I remember!" He laughed again, and the rest of the seven started to grin as well.
Emily blinked, confusion filling her features. She looked back at the Marshal, who had cleared her face of all expression, then she turned to Robin. He was watching her coldly. She smiled at her husband and reached a hand out.
"He's alive, Robin. I didn't kill him," she started to smile, not aware of the distance he was building between them. "Everything will be alright now," she continued.
"What have you done Emily," Moore asked.
"What?"
"Did you know?"
"What? Did I know about what?" She looked across at the Ancient, seeing his downward gaze. "Burnsy?"
"Don't look at him!" Moore exploded. "Damn it Emily, did you know this was a trap?"
She stared back at him, totally bemused. The whole thing seemed unreal to her, and she found it difficult to focus. She glanced around at the others, her clear blue eyes glazing across all the men lying down on the ground, her ears hearing the occasional order from one of the lawmen telling the men to "stay down" as if it were merely wind. She smiled at Ezra when she caught his green eyes, and he nodded at her, his laughter gone. He was back to being part of the Seven now, slipping smoothly back into the role of a professional lawman. Then she looked over at Garrett and the Ancient. Finally, she looked back at Robin. She raised her head slightly.
"Yes."
Moore roared and launched himself at her, driving her into the ground before anyone could react. Garrett screamed bloody murder, raising her guns at the blond man, but a shot from somewhere near the church clipped her in the shoulder. She fell to the ground, gripping her arm tightly.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Moore's other men attempted to fight off the peacekeepers, hoping to win by superior numbers. The Ancient pulled a knife from his boot and aimed for Josiah, only to find Nathan crushing him back into the dirt. Emily screamed, kneeing Robin in the groin and scrambling out from under his weight. Ezra caught hold of her arm and spun her away from the danger. Vin backed away to aim in the direction of the church, trying to see the source of the shot that had gotten the Marshal. He thought he could see the edge of a dark brown Stetson in one of the windows. He brought the Winchester to his shoulder and took aim, firing a couple of wood splintering shots.
Chris had a gun in either hand as he kicked Moore's men back into submission, noting that JD, Ezra and Josiah were doing the same. Buck had launched himself at Moore as soon as Emily was away, and the two were embroiled in a heavy fist fight.
Nathan had made his way across to Garrett, and was pressing a bandanna to her shoulder, trusting the others to cover them.
With a yell, Buck launched Moore off of him and back into the hitching post, the weak wooden contraption giving out under the younger man's weight. The rustler struggled to his feet, to find one of Chris's colts in his face. Panting heavily, he took one look into the black clad gunslinger's face and fell back to the ground in defeat.
Vin cursed as the dark brown Stetson disappeared from view again, his gray eyes searching the church for the shooter. Where did he go?
Subdued, Moore's men were down once more, under the heels of the lawmen. Ezra stood just in front of Emily, letting her hide behind him. Part of him wondered at the irony of it. Buck jumped up to stand next to him, wiping the blood from his grinning face.
Just then, the dark brown Stetson appeared again, but before Vin could draw a bead on him, this last outlaw had his gun up and aimed directly for Emily and Ezra.
Vin yelled a warning, but the shot rang out before he could fire. Instantly, Vin found his target and fired, relief flooding through him as the last outlaw, a man with frizzy brown hair that came loose as the Stetson fell from his head, fell from the church window to hang from the sill, dead.
Emily's abrupt scream brought Vin back, however, and he turned to see Ezra gripping tightly to Buck's inert form. A dark stain was forming quickly across the ladies man's back.
"Nathan!" the gambler screamed.
____________________________
Epilogue: The Center of the World
A week later…early afternoon…heat has let up some, but it is still miserable for the people of our favorite frontier town…At least they have the fun distraction of a trial to watch…
Judge Orrin Travis pursed his lips as he looked down at the list of charges, his eyes narrowing behind the wire rimmed glasses. Looking up, he glanced out at his men, happy to see Buck moving about, if stiffly. The ladies man was sitting in a wheel chair, still pale from his gun shot wound, but recovering. JD hovered over him like a mother hen. Ezra no longer wore that horrible bandage around his head, and looked to be writing in a small black book as he watched the proceedings, a smug look on his face. Josiah stood over him, frowning slightly as he noted what the gambler was doing. Nathan, Chris and Vin all watched from the back, near the doors, keeping their distance from it all.
The judge also looked across at Marshal Garrett, who, with her arm in a sling, was standing stiffly next to the defendant. If it weren't for the bandages, you would never even know that the woman had been hurt. Meanwhile, the young blond girl who stood next to her had her eyes trained on the wooden boards of the saloon floor.
"Emily Moore," The judge intoned finally, "you have been charged as an accessory to the felonies of cattle rustling, murder and attempted murder. From the records before me, I understand that you never took part in any of the actual gun fighting, though you were an integral part of the selling of the stolen cattle afterwards." He paused, and sniffed. "Normally, such participation would earn you at least ten years in prison."
The crowd stirred at this, and the judge saw Ezra raise an eyebrow and scribble something down. For some reason, this irked the older man somewhat, but he dispelled the feeling quickly.
"However, due to your role in the ultimate capture of Moore gang, and, as you already appear to have suffered greatly for what you have done, I have decided that leniency would be appropriate in this case. Both the seven men guarding this town, including the one you harmed, and Marshal Garrett have seen fit to plead on your behalf, and I have taken this all into account in your sentencing. As such, I am only going to sentence you to five years probation, under the guardianship of Marshal Vivienne Garrett."
The response was quick, as a huge sigh seemed to be released among the populace. Ezra grinned again and hastily wrote some more in his little book. Again, the judge frowned. Meanwhile, Garrett had turned to embrace her Emily, who was shaking slightly under the strain.
Earlier today, Moore and his remaining men had been sent to suffer life sentences at Yuma and many had guessed that Moore's wife would follow him. But, influenced by the Seven, public opinion had been on the side of the girl, and the judge was aware of this. Sighing, Travis stood to slam the gavel down.
"Court is adjourned," he called out loudly.
________________________________
Josiah followed Ezra out of the saloon/courtroom and grimaced as he saw the townsfolk quickly surround him. The gambler laughed as the money changed hands, and he reaped quite a lot of it for himself. The older man looked heavenward, as if looking for patience, then sighed and leaned on a post.
"What's going on?" Judge Travis asked, sidling up next to the preacher. Josiah shrugged.
"He laid bets on the outcome of the trials, Judge. Seems he did pretty well guessing what you'd do, especially with the girl."
Orrin mouth fell open in dismay, and his hand gripped the gavel in his hand tightly. "Why that little…."
Josiah slapped a hand on the Judge's back, stopping the man's words. "Its good to have him back, don't you think?" The preacher asked lightly. The Judge growled at him, and turned to stalk away, heading in the direction of the hotel.
Behind him, Josiah continued to watch Ezra, moving to follow as the gambler and his entourage moved up the street towards the bank. For some reason, Josiah didn't want to let Ezra out of his sight.
Vin leaned against the saloon railing, watching Josiah watch Ezra. The preacher was still acting protectively, even if he didn't realize it himself, and this caused the tracker to click his tongue against his teeth. He looked up as Chris leaned against a post near him.
"What's the matter?" the gunslinger asked.
Vin shook his head. "Just worried about Josiah."
Chris's eyes narrowed, "because of the son thing?"
Vin glance across, mildly surprised. He didn't think Chris had noticed.
The gunslinger exhaled deeply and turned his face towards the rest of the town. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about it now, Vin. Josiah's a grown man. He'll have to figure this out for himself." He chuckled quietly. "Course, if he ever marries Maude, maybe we won't have to worry as much."
Vin smiled crookedly in return, although his own thoughts knew that such a union would probably only make things worse.
"In any case," Chris finished, "Ezra will probably keep the preacher at arm's length for a while. Maybe this whole thing will just go away."
Vin nodded, though he didn't agree. His gray eyes caught Josiah as the preacher moved to walk towards the church, his head bowed. Ezra was pocketing his winnings, the men he'd bet with long since disappeared, and was also watching Josiah's retreating back. The gambler took a couple steps in the preacher's direction, then stopped. His hands gripped into fists, Ezra spun around and headed back in their direction. Both Vin and Chris looked away, pretending they hadn't been watching. Ezra frowned at their poor attempt at subterfuge, but nevertheless joined them. The gunslingers were not the only ones hoping that this "thing" with Josiah would blow over.
JD wheeled Buck out of the saloon then, both men laughing at something. The Lady Marshal and her charge followed them out, and Nathan hovered around the whole group, acting the concerned healer.
Garrett smiled as she saw Chris and walked up to him, her hand outstretched. He stood to greet her and took the hand warmly.
"Thank you, Mr. Larabee," she smiled. "It has been…enlightening."
"For me as well, Marshal," Chris replied. "You are welcome in our little town for as long as you want."
"Oh, I'm afraid we can't stay," Garrett replied, looking over at Emily. The girl still had her eyes glued to the ground, unable to meet anyone's eye. "Emily has asked that we head for home, and I am only to happy to oblige her. But your hospitality and especially your help were more than I could have asked for."
Chris tipped hit black hat to her in acknowledgement. Garrett smiled at all the men, shaking each of their hands, until she reached Ezra and Buck. Then she swallowed and put her hands behind her back.
"Gentlemen, I owe you both an apology. I made certain assumptions…"
"Nah, don't worry 'bout it, Marshal. Hell, we all do it, don't we Ez," Buck smiled, slapping Ezra on the arm. The gambler glared down at him, then turned to smile politely over at the Marshal.
"Despite the crudity with which he made the statement, Marshal Garrett, Mr. Wilmington is quite correct. Hell, some of us make a living off of appearances," his smile turned into a smirk, then became more genuine again. "Obviously, you know all too well yourself what it means to be judged on what you look like, as do we all. As such, an apology is truly not necessary. We would only have to apologize in return and, personally, I hate apologizing."
Garrett nodded and offered him her hand. Ezra reached down and lifted it to his lips. Garrett laughed, and even Emily's lips twitched some. Vin noticed the girl's expression, and smiled beneath his hat.
The Marshal also gave her hand to Buck, who shook it warmly in his own. Then Buck grabbed Ezra's hand and lifted it to his lips, causing the gambler to cry out and wrench it away.
"Oh, come on, Ez, after all, I did save your life. Least you could do is let me kiss your hand!" The ladies man said, waggling his eyebrows. "After all, I think that assumption of your that I am merely a ladies man may be a bit premature…." Ezra backed away, ignoring the others barely contained laughter. His eyes narrowed.
"Oh, very funny, Buck. Hilarious."
The Marshal shook her head, smiling as she glanced out at the frontier town. She remembered her first impressions of this place and thought that maybe she had been wrong about Four Corners, just as she had been about the men protecting it. Though this place may not last long physically…the dream of it, and the ideas it allows for, could potentially live forever.
End.
(At least of this story)