Julian looked down at the pale face of the man on the bed. What had she done to deserve this? Ezra might die and all because of her. He took that bullet for her, she knew that. Her hand rested on her friend's arm.
"Who am I kidding?" She thought. Ezra was more than a friend. He was her best friend, her only friend, and the man she was in love with. Nothing else could explain the warm ache in her stomach every time he walked by. The slightly sick, empty feeling she had when he wasn't around. The all-encompassing terror she felt now that he was lying unconscious on the bed before her. Only awake for a few hours each day, the week spent bedridden had taken its toll on more than just Ezra.
The men, still without identities, were all dead except for one who refused to say a word to anyone. It was certain that he would hang when Judge Travis arrived in a few days. Nathan had forced everyone to get some sleep. Despite their distaste with what they perceived as Ezra's indiscretion, he was one of their own. They'd been just as worried as Julian when they discovered the red stain on his jacket. They wouldn't leave the room without coercion from Nathan. Julian, refusing to leave no matter the circumstances, watched Ezra alone now.
"Good evening, my dear." The Southern accented voice brought her head up and a broad grin to her face.
"Ez!" Julian hugged him fiercely. Ezra recoiled slightly as she nudged his wound. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you all right? Is there anything I can get you? Do you feel . . ."
Ezra put a weak hand up to silence her. "I'm fine. Nothing a little time can't fix." he chuckled at Julian's embarrassed flush. He also noticed her concern. "I'm fine. Really." He tried to allay her fears. "Especially since I've been awakened to find a beautiful woman caring for me. Definite improvement from the usual."
The pair chuckled at the weak joke. And then for a long moment they sat in silence just looking at each other. Julian finally broke the comfortable pause with a smile and whispered, "Thank you for saving my life."
Ezra shook his head slightly; "It was nothing. As a gentleman . . ."
Julian snorted. "Don't pull that crap with me, Ez. We both know you are no gentleman."
Ezra grinned back at his companion. "Shh, they might find me out." He paused, the moment of kidding quickly replaced when Ezra stared in her eyes. He saw a light in them he hadn't noticed before. He couldn't place it. It wasn't the friendship he'd seen so many times in her eyes, nor the acceptance and understanding he'd come to expect from her. It contained all of these things, yes, but there was something else in there, something he couldn't quite put his finger on . . .
Julian took a breath, afraid to ask him what had been on her mind all these days and nights. "Ezra . . . you will stay now, won't you?"
"Only if you want me to. It appears no one else has any need of me in this town." Ezra flicked his gaze away from hers, hoping for a negation of the comment from her, but not really expecting it.
"Don't say that. You know that we need you here." Julian frowned at him.
"We? But do you?" He wasn't sure what exactly possessed him to ask her that. Just because he was starting to feel something more than friendship toward the woman, didn't mean she did. Especially after all she'd been through. What if she ran now?
But she didn't. Instead, a pleading hopeful look all too apparent in her eyes, she met his gaze. "Yes. I need you. More than anyone I've needed in my entire life."
It wasn't an impassioned speech, nor was it exactly what Ezra hoped for. But it was enough. Ezra sat up on his side, and put out a tentative hand. His arm, his shoulder where he'd been hit, did not bother him amazingly enough. As he cautiously brought her lips to his, Ezra wondered belatedly if he was making a mistake.
Then their lips met and it didn't matter anymore.
***
The light streaming through the not-quite clear glass of the jail, distorted by the heavy layer of dust in the air, cast eerie shadows across the room. The twilight evening outside was slowly giving way to the first nuances of the evening, and people bustled along quickly, trying to get things finished before the darkness fully set upon the quiet town.
Inside the jail, feet propped on the desk and leaning back in his chair, sat a pensive JD, not giving more than a glance to the thin dimestore novel he held open. Something about Bat Masterson graced it's paper cover, bold letters proclaiming his latest impossible feat.
In normal times, this would have kept the young man busy for a while. This same book, had in fact, on at least two previous occasions, saved him from listening to Buck rattle on about a past conquest. Other issues claimes his attention this evening.
"Hey boy! You think I could get some water here?" The raucous in the cell, caused by it's occupant, was getting rather annoying.
"I just gave you water twenty minutes ago." JD was exasperated. Any of the other guys wouldn't get this from the drunk.
JD turned back to his novel and let the disgruntled noise from his companion to fade into the background. It wasn't long before his mind began to wander.
He and Buck were eating in the saloon, a trying conversation due to lack of initiation on Buck's part. The man had been strangely non-forthcoming ever since the confrontation with Vin. Just the day before, Buck was constantly berating the Southerner, calling him names unrepeatable even in the harshest company. And then, with a few well placed words, Vin caused Buck to become the introverted mess he was that morning.
"Sorta like the pot callin' the kettle black, ain't it Buck?"
And it was, JD knew. He was neither prejudiced, nor naive enough to think that what Buck 'busied' himself with at night was any different than what had apparently transpired between the gambler and Chris's sister. Then again, the thought that continued to dog his heels, to his knowledge, Buck had never gotten a girl pregnant.
"Maybe," he thought, a sudden light brightening in his head, "It isn't as much as his relationship with the girl, but the relationship with his father." Or rather, lack of it. Buck's mother had been a working girl; he grew up in a bordello.
"Come on, kid! I'm dyin' of thirst here!"
Thoughts returned to the backburner for now, JD placed his book on the table and headed for the well.
***
"You mind if I join you?"
Chris looked up to see his old friend, bottle in hand, and nodded as he sat on the bench beside him.
"Go right ahead."
Buck handed him the half empty bottle after taking a swig himself. The two traded it back and forth for a few minutes, neither truly willing to breach the subject they both felt hovering between them.
"I was thinking about Illinois today." Buck started, a glint of memory in his eye. Chris, still staring straight ahead out into the night, didn't respond.
Buck plowed ahead, afraid to talk but more afraid to stop talking. "Remember when we'd go fishing? We had that 'spot', right down by . . . "
"The bend in the creek in the south pasture." Chris finished for him, a bit of his sullen mood lifting with the memory.
"Best spot in the whole country." Buck laughed, the whiskey loosening his emotions. "At least to us anyway." He paused. "And Julian."
Chris smiled, stretching his face unfamiliarly after so many days. "And we'd always try to leave her behind."
"But she always managed to tag along."
"And catch more fish than the two of us combined to boot." Chris chuckled. "Although that might have been because we helped her catch 'em, and neglected our own poles." Chris handed Buck the whiskey.
Leaning forward on his knees, Buck continued to reminisce. "Yeah, she was pretty young then. When I first saw her I barely recognized her after all these years. Not too much remains of that little kid."
Chris sobbered for a moment, leaning back against the wall behind him. "No. Not too much. Still smiles the same though."
Silence washed over the pair again, remembering pasts long gone.
"You know," Buck said after a long minute, "I never saw her smile as much as she did when she was with him."
"By 'him' you mean . . ." Chris asked, though he already knew the answer; he'd witnessed as much himself.
"Standish . . . Ezra." Buck swallowed hard. "He didn't leave her. He's still here. Took a bullet for her, Chris. Maybe he didn't know . . ." Buck trailed off, grimacing.
"That he got her pregnant? Buck she's still my, for chrissakes, our baby sister. He still is responsible for what he . . ." the aggression in his voice, dulled by the liquor was returning.
"That's just it Chris. I've been thinking, and as much as I don't like to admit it, it's as much her fault as it is his. She's not a baby anymore Chris." Buck sighed; there, he'd said what he'd set out to say.
Chris turned to him, ferocity in his eyes. "No, she's not a baby. But she isn't old enough to be cavorting with a man she barely knows. They weren't . . . Aren't married. He had no business . . ."
Buck put an arm out, touching his friend on the shoulder, "I agree with you, believe me. I didn't want what happened to happen any more than you did. But it's done. We can't do anything to stop it . . ."
Chris shoved the arm off, standing. "You might be able to let Standish get away with this, but Julian isn't your flesh and blood . . ."
"Might as well be my sister, you said it yourself, Chris . . ." But Chris was already stalking down the street, toward the clinic where Ezra lay. Buck chased after him, stopping him.
"Chris, listen to me." Buck stepped in front of the gunslinger, staring him in the eyes. "Nothing they did was any different than what we've done countless times before."
"She's not a man . . ." A weak defense, and Larabee knew it, but there was little else he could say.
"And what would she say about that?"
It was enough to stop Chris. The rage dissolved in his body, the tension visibly seeping from his body. Chris pulled his attention from Buck, glancing at the door to the clinic. The clinic where his baby sister sat worrying over the comatose body of Standish. Worrying . . .
Chris turned back to his friend, coming suddenly to a decision. "Saloon. You're buyin'."
He'e leave Standish alone for now, for Julian's sake. But once he woke up, Chris made no promises.
***
Exchanging greetings with Chris and Buck on their way in, Nathan stepped out into the early night air. He breathed the deeply, glad to be out of the smoke filled, over crowded space. He enjoyed the company he kept in the place, but sometimes the atmosphere reminded him far too much of his past.
Walking slowly down the street, he wondered if he should check on Ezra. Seeing the light in the window, he knew Julian was still waiting with him. Just as he was opening the door, he stopped, hearing voices within.
" . . . was so worried for you." The light timber of the voice identified Julian as the speaker. "I thought you weren't going to . . ."
Ezra interjected gently, "That doesn't matter anymore. I'm here now."
"Just don't go jumping in front of bullets anymore, 'kay Ez?"
A chuckle sounded in the room, soon curiously silenced. Smiling to himself, Nathan started back toward the saloon. It was never too crowded in there, and he had a feeling that he didn't need to check on Ezra for a while.
***
Morning broke over the small town, only to find it already awake and hard at work. Mr. Potter stood outside his shop, sweeping the walk. Across the way, at the livery, a young boy carried a bale of hay. A horse and rider, appearing long on the trail, made their way down the dusty street. The man tipped his sombrero at a young woman dressed in rumpled, dark blue calico. With a slight inclination of her head, she returned the gesture as he passed.
Julian walked with purpose that morning, trying to smooth the wrinkles from her dress. Awakened twenty minutes ago by Nathan, Ezra wanted her to ask Chris to come speak with him.
"Last time I'll ever sleep in my clothes." She thought, not without a touch of humor, as she tugged on her sleeves. Pushing open the doors to the to the saloon, scanning its patrons for her brother. She spied him far in the back, pushing a fork around on his plate. Noting the empty shot glass next to his coffee cup, Julian could only surmise what happened to its contents.
"Typical Chris." Julian thought as she sat down beside her brother.
"Morning." She wasn't sure what to say to her brother; so few civilities had been exchanged between them the past week. "Ezra wanted . . ."
Chris looked up, "He's awake then?" A conspiracy it seemed, existed between his sister and Nathan. Ezra never seemed to be awake when Chris was around.
"Yes, and . . ." Julian didn't finish as Chris stood, pushing the chair out behind him and rushed from the saloon.
"Chris, wait!" She could have handled that a little better, she thought chasing after her brother.
Those out in the street first noticed the commotion when Larabee came running from the saloon, heading obviously for the clinic. The addition of his sister racing after him, his name on her lips, only served to heighten the drama of the situation. Everyone in town waited patiently for the confrontation between Larabee and Standish. It appeared that, finally, they would get their wish.
Ezra looked calmly at his leader when he burst throught the door. "Good morning, Mr. Larabee. I was just coming to see you. We have much to discuss. . ."
"You're damn straight we have much to discuss." Chris towered over the smaller man seated on the bed, though his anger was less apparent. The unthinking rage which had consumed him a week before, simmered below the surface, quelled by time and Buck's comments.
"Now, Chris. Ezra don't need no . . ." Nathan began, ready to force Larabee to leave if need be.
"Don't worry, Nathan. I plan to handle this like a perfect gentleman."
Julian burst through the door just then. "Chris . . .!" She surveyed the room, mildly suprised to find Ezra still concious and no blood scattered on the floor.
"Ah, good to see you again, my dear." Ezra smiled at her, a look her brother did not miss, but chose not to comment on. But when she moved to sit beside him, Chris spoke.
"Don't lay a hand on her." The venom in his voice was back. With a nod from Ezra, she chose to stand instead.
The scene, as it appeared to Nathan, was entirely too calm. He, like Julian, expected bloodshed at the very least. But there stood Chris, calm as could be, with little emotion on his face. What gave his fury away rested in the blue storm clouds of his eyes. No one spoke, the quiet weighing heavily on all of them. Each breath could be heard, shouts from the street filtered into the room through thin walls. Tension, thick and dense, bound the gazes of Ezra and Chris. Julian, eyes darting between her brother and her friend, finally spoke, trying to dilute the disquiet between them.
"Chris, it's okay. We just wanted to talk to you."
Her brother's scrutiny turned to her, making her feel decidedly uncomfortable. "So talk. You got about a minute before I tell him to get the hell out of town and never return."
Julian swallowed, returning the tight smile Nathan gave her as he left the room, leaving the trio in privacy. They'd come to this decision this morning, Nathan, Ezra, and her. It was now up to her to fufill it.
"I . . . we . . . I should start at the beginning." Julian stammered, still unsure of herself. She looked over to Ezra, gratefully gaining strength from the green depths of his eyes. Love shone there, loyalty, and the certainty that he would never abandon her. Renewed courage flowed through her, and she started again.
"When I first came out here, I was kidnapped. Ezra, somehow, ended up confined in those dank quarters with me. And then you, and the others, managed to save us. You already knew all that."
Chris nodded, not without apprehension. He sensed the revelation she was about to bestow upon him would alter a great many things. He was almost sorry when she continued speaking, curious to know what happened, but overwhelmed with a deep sense of foreboding.
"When I was there, I . . . Those men that held us, they . . ." She breathed deep, feeling her stomach twist, and fought the urge to vomit. "They raped me, Chris. They raped me, beat the hell out of Ezra, and laughed while we bled." Julian had long since adverted her eyes, staring with shame at the designs in the wood of the floor. Afraid to look up, the silence that ensued was deafening.
Chris was stunned from action. When he came over here, the visions in his head contained violence against the Southerner, instead they now recalled the faces of the same men she spoke of, as they swung from ropes on the gallows. It seemed a lifetime ago, but was in reality, only a month or two. If they weren't already dead, Chris would kill them for this. He had, in fact, half a mind to go dig up their corpses and kick the shit out of what was left.
Raped. His baby sister was violated in the worst possible manner. The fear, the pain she must have felt . . . Oh God, Chris suddenly realized what else she was saying. Ezra never touched her, not that way. All that time she was with him, it was for comfort. Ezra didn't father the child she miscarried, one of her rapists did. Chris closed his eyes, fighting the tears that threatened. All along, he thought Ezra had . . . All along he'd been protecting her . . . How could either one ever forgive him.
Chris looked to the bed where Ezra still sat, meeting his eyes this time without the pure discust he'd felt for so long. Ezra's eyes flicked to Julian, urging Chris to go to her, where she stood close to tears. The older man walked over to his sister, touching her hesitantly at first, not knowing how, or if, he could touch her.
A single tear trailed down her cheek as Chris took her in his arms.
"Oh, Julie, I'm so sorry." He whispered, and rocked her in his arms. Chris kissed the top of her head, a brotherly gesture that made the girl in his arms sob. She thought he'd never love her again, especially if he ever knew . . .
Chris moved back when he felt Julian relax, and was sure that he was once more able to speak. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, kid. If they weren't dead . . ."
"But they are. There's nothing that can be done." She moved past her brother and sat down next to Ezra. This time, Chris was silent. Julian slipped her hand into Ezra's larger one. "And there's something else I . . ." She exchanged a quick smile with the gambler. "We need to tell you."
Once again, the precognitive sense filled Chris. But this time the feeling did not contain trepidation. It wasn't joy, not exactly. But neither was it the dread he'd felt minutes before.
"Mr. Larabee, with your permission, I would like your sister's hand in marriage." Ezra held his breath as he watched Larabee's face. The grim set of his mouth made him think twice about his earlier decision to ask this at the same time he found out what happened to his sister. But Julian had insisted that if she was going to tell him one thing, she had to tell him the other. No more lies. And Ezra agreed. And was currently wishing that he hadn't, the look on Chris's face better than his own poker face.
And then, miraculously, Chris sighed, blinked, and rubbed his hand across his forehead.
"You know Ezra," Chris began, finally using the younger man's first name to address him. "A half hour ago, I would have killed you for less." Then he laughed, a short, curt sound. "But it looks like I have no other choice than to agree."
And when he saw the smile of joy that spread across his sister's face, fitting incongruously on her tear streaked cheeks, and the nod of gratitude from his future brother in law, Chris knew he'd made the right choice by giving his blessing.
"Who am I kidding?" She thought. Ezra was more than a friend. He was her best friend, her only friend, and the man she was in love with. Nothing else could explain the warm ache in her stomach every time he walked by. The slightly sick, empty feeling she had when he wasn't around. The all-encompassing terror she felt now that he was lying unconscious on the bed before her. Only awake for a few hours each day, the week spent bedridden had taken its toll on more than just Ezra.
The men, still without identities, were all dead except for one who refused to say a word to anyone. It was certain that he would hang when Judge Travis arrived in a few days. Nathan had forced everyone to get some sleep. Despite their distaste with what they perceived as Ezra's indiscretion, he was one of their own. They'd been just as worried as Julian when they discovered the red stain on his jacket. They wouldn't leave the room without coercion from Nathan. Julian, refusing to leave no matter the circumstances, watched Ezra alone now.
"Good evening, my dear." The Southern accented voice brought her head up and a broad grin to her face.
"Ez!" Julian hugged him fiercely. Ezra recoiled slightly as she nudged his wound. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you all right? Is there anything I can get you? Do you feel . . ."
Ezra put a weak hand up to silence her. "I'm fine. Nothing a little time can't fix." he chuckled at Julian's embarrassed flush. He also noticed her concern. "I'm fine. Really." He tried to allay her fears. "Especially since I've been awakened to find a beautiful woman caring for me. Definite improvement from the usual."
The pair chuckled at the weak joke. And then for a long moment they sat in silence just looking at each other. Julian finally broke the comfortable pause with a smile and whispered, "Thank you for saving my life."
Ezra shook his head slightly; "It was nothing. As a gentleman . . ."
Julian snorted. "Don't pull that crap with me, Ez. We both know you are no gentleman."
Ezra grinned back at his companion. "Shh, they might find me out." He paused, the moment of kidding quickly replaced when Ezra stared in her eyes. He saw a light in them he hadn't noticed before. He couldn't place it. It wasn't the friendship he'd seen so many times in her eyes, nor the acceptance and understanding he'd come to expect from her. It contained all of these things, yes, but there was something else in there, something he couldn't quite put his finger on . . .
Julian took a breath, afraid to ask him what had been on her mind all these days and nights. "Ezra . . . you will stay now, won't you?"
"Only if you want me to. It appears no one else has any need of me in this town." Ezra flicked his gaze away from hers, hoping for a negation of the comment from her, but not really expecting it.
"Don't say that. You know that we need you here." Julian frowned at him.
"We? But do you?" He wasn't sure what exactly possessed him to ask her that. Just because he was starting to feel something more than friendship toward the woman, didn't mean she did. Especially after all she'd been through. What if she ran now?
But she didn't. Instead, a pleading hopeful look all too apparent in her eyes, she met his gaze. "Yes. I need you. More than anyone I've needed in my entire life."
It wasn't an impassioned speech, nor was it exactly what Ezra hoped for. But it was enough. Ezra sat up on his side, and put out a tentative hand. His arm, his shoulder where he'd been hit, did not bother him amazingly enough. As he cautiously brought her lips to his, Ezra wondered belatedly if he was making a mistake.
Then their lips met and it didn't matter anymore.
***
The light streaming through the not-quite clear glass of the jail, distorted by the heavy layer of dust in the air, cast eerie shadows across the room. The twilight evening outside was slowly giving way to the first nuances of the evening, and people bustled along quickly, trying to get things finished before the darkness fully set upon the quiet town.
Inside the jail, feet propped on the desk and leaning back in his chair, sat a pensive JD, not giving more than a glance to the thin dimestore novel he held open. Something about Bat Masterson graced it's paper cover, bold letters proclaiming his latest impossible feat.
In normal times, this would have kept the young man busy for a while. This same book, had in fact, on at least two previous occasions, saved him from listening to Buck rattle on about a past conquest. Other issues claimes his attention this evening.
"Hey boy! You think I could get some water here?" The raucous in the cell, caused by it's occupant, was getting rather annoying.
"I just gave you water twenty minutes ago." JD was exasperated. Any of the other guys wouldn't get this from the drunk.
JD turned back to his novel and let the disgruntled noise from his companion to fade into the background. It wasn't long before his mind began to wander.
He and Buck were eating in the saloon, a trying conversation due to lack of initiation on Buck's part. The man had been strangely non-forthcoming ever since the confrontation with Vin. Just the day before, Buck was constantly berating the Southerner, calling him names unrepeatable even in the harshest company. And then, with a few well placed words, Vin caused Buck to become the introverted mess he was that morning.
"Sorta like the pot callin' the kettle black, ain't it Buck?"
And it was, JD knew. He was neither prejudiced, nor naive enough to think that what Buck 'busied' himself with at night was any different than what had apparently transpired between the gambler and Chris's sister. Then again, the thought that continued to dog his heels, to his knowledge, Buck had never gotten a girl pregnant.
"Maybe," he thought, a sudden light brightening in his head, "It isn't as much as his relationship with the girl, but the relationship with his father." Or rather, lack of it. Buck's mother had been a working girl; he grew up in a bordello.
"Come on, kid! I'm dyin' of thirst here!"
Thoughts returned to the backburner for now, JD placed his book on the table and headed for the well.
***
"You mind if I join you?"
Chris looked up to see his old friend, bottle in hand, and nodded as he sat on the bench beside him.
"Go right ahead."
Buck handed him the half empty bottle after taking a swig himself. The two traded it back and forth for a few minutes, neither truly willing to breach the subject they both felt hovering between them.
"I was thinking about Illinois today." Buck started, a glint of memory in his eye. Chris, still staring straight ahead out into the night, didn't respond.
Buck plowed ahead, afraid to talk but more afraid to stop talking. "Remember when we'd go fishing? We had that 'spot', right down by . . . "
"The bend in the creek in the south pasture." Chris finished for him, a bit of his sullen mood lifting with the memory.
"Best spot in the whole country." Buck laughed, the whiskey loosening his emotions. "At least to us anyway." He paused. "And Julian."
Chris smiled, stretching his face unfamiliarly after so many days. "And we'd always try to leave her behind."
"But she always managed to tag along."
"And catch more fish than the two of us combined to boot." Chris chuckled. "Although that might have been because we helped her catch 'em, and neglected our own poles." Chris handed Buck the whiskey.
Leaning forward on his knees, Buck continued to reminisce. "Yeah, she was pretty young then. When I first saw her I barely recognized her after all these years. Not too much remains of that little kid."
Chris sobbered for a moment, leaning back against the wall behind him. "No. Not too much. Still smiles the same though."
Silence washed over the pair again, remembering pasts long gone.
"You know," Buck said after a long minute, "I never saw her smile as much as she did when she was with him."
"By 'him' you mean . . ." Chris asked, though he already knew the answer; he'd witnessed as much himself.
"Standish . . . Ezra." Buck swallowed hard. "He didn't leave her. He's still here. Took a bullet for her, Chris. Maybe he didn't know . . ." Buck trailed off, grimacing.
"That he got her pregnant? Buck she's still my, for chrissakes, our baby sister. He still is responsible for what he . . ." the aggression in his voice, dulled by the liquor was returning.
"That's just it Chris. I've been thinking, and as much as I don't like to admit it, it's as much her fault as it is his. She's not a baby anymore Chris." Buck sighed; there, he'd said what he'd set out to say.
Chris turned to him, ferocity in his eyes. "No, she's not a baby. But she isn't old enough to be cavorting with a man she barely knows. They weren't . . . Aren't married. He had no business . . ."
Buck put an arm out, touching his friend on the shoulder, "I agree with you, believe me. I didn't want what happened to happen any more than you did. But it's done. We can't do anything to stop it . . ."
Chris shoved the arm off, standing. "You might be able to let Standish get away with this, but Julian isn't your flesh and blood . . ."
"Might as well be my sister, you said it yourself, Chris . . ." But Chris was already stalking down the street, toward the clinic where Ezra lay. Buck chased after him, stopping him.
"Chris, listen to me." Buck stepped in front of the gunslinger, staring him in the eyes. "Nothing they did was any different than what we've done countless times before."
"She's not a man . . ." A weak defense, and Larabee knew it, but there was little else he could say.
"And what would she say about that?"
It was enough to stop Chris. The rage dissolved in his body, the tension visibly seeping from his body. Chris pulled his attention from Buck, glancing at the door to the clinic. The clinic where his baby sister sat worrying over the comatose body of Standish. Worrying . . .
Chris turned back to his friend, coming suddenly to a decision. "Saloon. You're buyin'."
He'e leave Standish alone for now, for Julian's sake. But once he woke up, Chris made no promises.
***
Exchanging greetings with Chris and Buck on their way in, Nathan stepped out into the early night air. He breathed the deeply, glad to be out of the smoke filled, over crowded space. He enjoyed the company he kept in the place, but sometimes the atmosphere reminded him far too much of his past.
Walking slowly down the street, he wondered if he should check on Ezra. Seeing the light in the window, he knew Julian was still waiting with him. Just as he was opening the door, he stopped, hearing voices within.
" . . . was so worried for you." The light timber of the voice identified Julian as the speaker. "I thought you weren't going to . . ."
Ezra interjected gently, "That doesn't matter anymore. I'm here now."
"Just don't go jumping in front of bullets anymore, 'kay Ez?"
A chuckle sounded in the room, soon curiously silenced. Smiling to himself, Nathan started back toward the saloon. It was never too crowded in there, and he had a feeling that he didn't need to check on Ezra for a while.
***
Morning broke over the small town, only to find it already awake and hard at work. Mr. Potter stood outside his shop, sweeping the walk. Across the way, at the livery, a young boy carried a bale of hay. A horse and rider, appearing long on the trail, made their way down the dusty street. The man tipped his sombrero at a young woman dressed in rumpled, dark blue calico. With a slight inclination of her head, she returned the gesture as he passed.
Julian walked with purpose that morning, trying to smooth the wrinkles from her dress. Awakened twenty minutes ago by Nathan, Ezra wanted her to ask Chris to come speak with him.
"Last time I'll ever sleep in my clothes." She thought, not without a touch of humor, as she tugged on her sleeves. Pushing open the doors to the to the saloon, scanning its patrons for her brother. She spied him far in the back, pushing a fork around on his plate. Noting the empty shot glass next to his coffee cup, Julian could only surmise what happened to its contents.
"Typical Chris." Julian thought as she sat down beside her brother.
"Morning." She wasn't sure what to say to her brother; so few civilities had been exchanged between them the past week. "Ezra wanted . . ."
Chris looked up, "He's awake then?" A conspiracy it seemed, existed between his sister and Nathan. Ezra never seemed to be awake when Chris was around.
"Yes, and . . ." Julian didn't finish as Chris stood, pushing the chair out behind him and rushed from the saloon.
"Chris, wait!" She could have handled that a little better, she thought chasing after her brother.
Those out in the street first noticed the commotion when Larabee came running from the saloon, heading obviously for the clinic. The addition of his sister racing after him, his name on her lips, only served to heighten the drama of the situation. Everyone in town waited patiently for the confrontation between Larabee and Standish. It appeared that, finally, they would get their wish.
Ezra looked calmly at his leader when he burst throught the door. "Good morning, Mr. Larabee. I was just coming to see you. We have much to discuss. . ."
"You're damn straight we have much to discuss." Chris towered over the smaller man seated on the bed, though his anger was less apparent. The unthinking rage which had consumed him a week before, simmered below the surface, quelled by time and Buck's comments.
"Now, Chris. Ezra don't need no . . ." Nathan began, ready to force Larabee to leave if need be.
"Don't worry, Nathan. I plan to handle this like a perfect gentleman."
Julian burst through the door just then. "Chris . . .!" She surveyed the room, mildly suprised to find Ezra still concious and no blood scattered on the floor.
"Ah, good to see you again, my dear." Ezra smiled at her, a look her brother did not miss, but chose not to comment on. But when she moved to sit beside him, Chris spoke.
"Don't lay a hand on her." The venom in his voice was back. With a nod from Ezra, she chose to stand instead.
The scene, as it appeared to Nathan, was entirely too calm. He, like Julian, expected bloodshed at the very least. But there stood Chris, calm as could be, with little emotion on his face. What gave his fury away rested in the blue storm clouds of his eyes. No one spoke, the quiet weighing heavily on all of them. Each breath could be heard, shouts from the street filtered into the room through thin walls. Tension, thick and dense, bound the gazes of Ezra and Chris. Julian, eyes darting between her brother and her friend, finally spoke, trying to dilute the disquiet between them.
"Chris, it's okay. We just wanted to talk to you."
Her brother's scrutiny turned to her, making her feel decidedly uncomfortable. "So talk. You got about a minute before I tell him to get the hell out of town and never return."
Julian swallowed, returning the tight smile Nathan gave her as he left the room, leaving the trio in privacy. They'd come to this decision this morning, Nathan, Ezra, and her. It was now up to her to fufill it.
"I . . . we . . . I should start at the beginning." Julian stammered, still unsure of herself. She looked over to Ezra, gratefully gaining strength from the green depths of his eyes. Love shone there, loyalty, and the certainty that he would never abandon her. Renewed courage flowed through her, and she started again.
"When I first came out here, I was kidnapped. Ezra, somehow, ended up confined in those dank quarters with me. And then you, and the others, managed to save us. You already knew all that."
Chris nodded, not without apprehension. He sensed the revelation she was about to bestow upon him would alter a great many things. He was almost sorry when she continued speaking, curious to know what happened, but overwhelmed with a deep sense of foreboding.
"When I was there, I . . . Those men that held us, they . . ." She breathed deep, feeling her stomach twist, and fought the urge to vomit. "They raped me, Chris. They raped me, beat the hell out of Ezra, and laughed while we bled." Julian had long since adverted her eyes, staring with shame at the designs in the wood of the floor. Afraid to look up, the silence that ensued was deafening.
Chris was stunned from action. When he came over here, the visions in his head contained violence against the Southerner, instead they now recalled the faces of the same men she spoke of, as they swung from ropes on the gallows. It seemed a lifetime ago, but was in reality, only a month or two. If they weren't already dead, Chris would kill them for this. He had, in fact, half a mind to go dig up their corpses and kick the shit out of what was left.
Raped. His baby sister was violated in the worst possible manner. The fear, the pain she must have felt . . . Oh God, Chris suddenly realized what else she was saying. Ezra never touched her, not that way. All that time she was with him, it was for comfort. Ezra didn't father the child she miscarried, one of her rapists did. Chris closed his eyes, fighting the tears that threatened. All along, he thought Ezra had . . . All along he'd been protecting her . . . How could either one ever forgive him.
Chris looked to the bed where Ezra still sat, meeting his eyes this time without the pure discust he'd felt for so long. Ezra's eyes flicked to Julian, urging Chris to go to her, where she stood close to tears. The older man walked over to his sister, touching her hesitantly at first, not knowing how, or if, he could touch her.
A single tear trailed down her cheek as Chris took her in his arms.
"Oh, Julie, I'm so sorry." He whispered, and rocked her in his arms. Chris kissed the top of her head, a brotherly gesture that made the girl in his arms sob. She thought he'd never love her again, especially if he ever knew . . .
Chris moved back when he felt Julian relax, and was sure that he was once more able to speak. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, kid. If they weren't dead . . ."
"But they are. There's nothing that can be done." She moved past her brother and sat down next to Ezra. This time, Chris was silent. Julian slipped her hand into Ezra's larger one. "And there's something else I . . ." She exchanged a quick smile with the gambler. "We need to tell you."
Once again, the precognitive sense filled Chris. But this time the feeling did not contain trepidation. It wasn't joy, not exactly. But neither was it the dread he'd felt minutes before.
"Mr. Larabee, with your permission, I would like your sister's hand in marriage." Ezra held his breath as he watched Larabee's face. The grim set of his mouth made him think twice about his earlier decision to ask this at the same time he found out what happened to his sister. But Julian had insisted that if she was going to tell him one thing, she had to tell him the other. No more lies. And Ezra agreed. And was currently wishing that he hadn't, the look on Chris's face better than his own poker face.
And then, miraculously, Chris sighed, blinked, and rubbed his hand across his forehead.
"You know Ezra," Chris began, finally using the younger man's first name to address him. "A half hour ago, I would have killed you for less." Then he laughed, a short, curt sound. "But it looks like I have no other choice than to agree."
And when he saw the smile of joy that spread across his sister's face, fitting incongruously on her tear streaked cheeks, and the nod of gratitude from his future brother in law, Chris knew he'd made the right choice by giving his blessing.