Alpha Males, part two
"Hannibal's plans never work right, they just work" or "How to Piss off Chris Larabee"
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"GET DOWN!"
In the saloon eating breakfast, Chris, Vin, Nathan and Josiah all jumped up at the yell, recognizing the voice as that of Hannibal Smith. It had come from the clinic. At almost the same instant, a barrage of gunfire exploded outside, echoing down the street like thunder. Instantly, the four men were at the door, guns drawn. Up above, in his room, Ezra threw open his window, his rifle pushing out first.
"Yosemite! Look out!" A woman screamed, holding up the wall near the mercantile.
The people of Four Corners, though never fond of gunfire, were savvy enough to get out of the way, but one hadn't been quick enough. Lying next to his blacksmith rig and gripping his side, Yosemite rocked back and forth, moaning slightly.
Nathan shoved open the batwings and ran up the street, heedless of the danger. Behind him, the others came more cautiously, automatically covering their friend. The healer skidded to the ground next to the blacksmith, getting himself between him and the gunfire. Looking up, he saw the two nuns cowering just inside the livery doors, watching him with terrified eyes.
Around the corner, a combined gunfight and fistfight was in full force. About ten men were attacking Face, Murdock and Hannibal around the repaired wagon. Above, in front of the clinic, BA threw a man off the balcony, yelling just in time for Face to jump back and have the thrown man land atop the two he'd been fighting. It gave Face enough time to swing around and use the butt of his rifle to take down one of the men attacking Murdock. Then, in synchronized movements, the two men took out the other one with a few well placed blows.
Meanwhile, the artillery sergeant picked up his rifle and started shooting at anyone trying to get away, quickly stopping them in their tracks. Most fell to the ground, hands over their heads, well aware that they were all sitting ducks and praying to anyone who would listen that BA wouldn't actually hit them.
Hannibal shoved and punched his way out of a knot of five men, and, with Murdock and Face coming to help him, started taking them down.
Chris, Vin and Josiah moved in to surround the fighting men, grabbing any trying to run and throwing them to the ground. Up above, BA uncocked his rifle and settled down to wait, growling at the fact that he couldn't go and help. In the background, a half dressed Ezra, Buck and JD appeared, standing as backup.
A few minutes later, all the bandits were down, either unconscious or insensible, and the three members of the A-Team were the only ones still standing. Hannibal grinned as he put his gun away, pulling a cigar out of his pocket with his other hand. Face looked less pleased, wiping the blood from a split lip and looking towards the downed blacksmith and to the two nuns beyond. Murdock was already running up the stairs to check on BA, who had collapsed back into a chair on the balcony, gripping his leg. Red blood was leaking through the bandage, but the large man seemed to be holding up all right.
Hannibal wiped the dirt from his hands and grinned across at Face, "I love it when a plan comes together." Face covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly. Hannibal just laughed.
Chris Larabee, however, was not happy at all.
"What the hell happened!" he shouted, striding up to the Colonel and standing toe to toe with the man. Hannibal flexed an eyebrow.
"Oh, I should think it was obvious. We were attacked, Mr. Larabee."
"Attacked."
"Yes," the silver haired man looked around, "these outlaws were after the money to build a mission down in San Pietro, money belonging to the Sisters of Saint Vincent's Convent in Kansas City. They aimed to murder these two women," he gestured towards the livery, where Sister Catherine was helping Nathan with Yosemite and Sister Matilde was hovering a few feet away. Face had made his way over and was holding the younger nun by her arm, almost holding her up. Chris looked over at Yosemite, his expression dour, and Nathan caught his eyes. The healer nodded. When the gunslinger looked back at Hannibal, his eyes were as hard as flint.
"Buck!"
"Yeah Chris?" the ladies man jogged forward.
"Put them in jail. All of them."
"Mr. Larabee," Hannibal tried, his brow furrowing, "Now don't go jumping to..."
Chris put up a hand, stopping him. "You brought these men here, Mr. Smith. You doubtless knew they were coming -- your wagon displaying the marks of their previous attempts to capture you - and yet you neither informed me of the danger, or any of the people I protect. Now one of those people is hurt. At this point, I have very little interest in your side of things. Buck," Chris turned and walked away, not needing to see that his orders were carried out. On his way, he passed Ezra, the censure thick in his gaze.
The gambler averted his eyes.
_____________________________________
Amazingly, none of the men that had attacked Hannibal and his men had been killed, though several sported broken bones and all had plenty of bruises. Nathan had Vin and Ezra helping him tend to their wounds, while JD sorted out their names for the Judge. Hannibal, Face and Murdock were placed in a separate cell.
Oddly, none of the three members of the A-Team looked all that perturbed about being locked up.
"You need our names, kid?" Hannibal asked, looking across at JD. The Sheriff looked up from his desk, and his pile of wanted posters.
"Ah, no sir. I know who you are."
"Oh, terrific!" Face muttered sarcastically, "Our lucky day, eh Hannibal?"
Hannibal didn't reply, just held out his hand to the lieutenant. Rolling his eyes, Face reached into the breast pocket of his priest's jacket and pulled out a cigar. As he handed it over, he started griping again, reaching into another pocket for matches.
"Four Corners is a well protected town, he says. They'll never follow us in there, he says. We can hide the nuns then go back and take care of the bad guys safely, he says." The litany dripped off the younger man's lips with just enough acidity to make Hannibal smile.
"They did leave us alone for a while, Face," the colonel said lightly, as Face lit the cigar.
"And we did almost get away with it," Murdock added from where he had positioned himself against one of the walls.
Face threw his hands in the air, "I consort with lemmings!" he grumbled. "When Hannibal jumps off the cliff, Murdock, why is it you always follow?"
Murdock grinned, "You know why; it's cause he knows how to fly." He flapped his hands like a bird.
"Sure he does, about as well as a buffalo on opium."
"Oh cheer up, kid," Hannibal grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "Have I ever let you down before?" He ignored the caustic gaze from his lieutenant and shrugged, "tough crowd."
"Colonel Smith!" Chris strode into the jail to come to a stop just in front of the cell. "Is there anything you would like to tell me before I send for the judge and the army to come fetch you?"
Hannibal looked back at Face, then at Murdock, then turned a smile back to Chris, "Nope."
Chris's eyes narrowed, "If you think that you will be able to get out of this jail before they get here, Colonel, you are mistaken. You try anything...anything....and I will shoot you myself, are we clear?"
"As the finest crystal, Mr. Larabee," Hannibal nodded, still smiling. "But I do have a couple of questions....May I ask what you have done with the sisters? And is Yosemite all right?"
Chris regarded him for a moment before answering. "I would have thought you'd have asked about your man."
Hannibal dropped the smile, "Oh, I know you'll take care of him."
Chris nodded slowly, "Yosemite will be fine. He lost a lot of blood, but Nathan got him cleaned and stitched up in time. As for the sisters, they are currently on their way to meet up with the rest of their order, accompanied by two of my men."
Hannibal nodded, "Thank you."
Chris grimaced, "They wanted me to let you go."
"They were threatened long before they left to build the mission, but could not find anyone to protect them on the journey. The army is spread too thin as it is, and would not have been able to follow them into Mexico, which, incidentally, is where we were attacked the first time. As you can see," he gestured to the outlaws in the other cell, "the bandits were Mexican. So the sisters found and hired us."
Chris pursed his lips, accepting this. "Why did you come back across the border? There had to have been other towns nearer to where you were attacked, and, besides, you're not wanted in Mexico."
Hannibal smiled wryly, "Frankly, it was because I knew your town was here, and only half a day's ride away. BA was hurt and, based on your reputation, I was counting on you helping if they followed us the whole way. You did. Thank you."
Chris snorted, "how did you know that I wouldn't turn you in the minute I found out who you were?"
Hannibal grinned again, "I didn't. But I hoped. Guess I was wrong, eh?"
"Guess so."
"Shame."
"Hmm," Chris backed away and over to the desk. JD looked up. "I sent Josiah and Buck with the sisters, to get them back across the border. Set up a two man watch here." He looked at the two other cells, one of which was set up like an impromptu clinic, with Nathan, Ezra and Vin taking care of the injured. Ezra got to his feet and turned as he felt Chris's eyes on his back. The gunslinger shook his head at him, and Ezra turned away again, a flash of annoyance crossing the gambler's face. This was not his fault, darn it.
Chris looked back at JD who was pretending not to notice what was going on, and rapped his knuckles on the desk again.
"I'll be at the telegraph office, then the saloon, if you need me."
"Sure thing, Chris."
As he left, Ezra got the man whose leg he was bandaging to hold onto it himself, then took off after Chris, ignoring the outlaw's startled "hey!"
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"Chris!"
Chris turned around, waiting as Ezra caught up to him. The gambler tried smiling, but gave up quickly under the stormy glare.
"I...uh, look, I realize that this may sound odd, but I feel I must intercede on behalf of Colonel and his men."
"I don't want to hear it, Ezra."
"Why? Listen, I know you're angry, but it was not their fault that Yosemite was hurt. Well, maybe it was a little, but I'm sure they didn't provoke the incident and...."
"I'm not arguing with you Ezra. Those men are fugitives. I'm doing what I should have done the minute I learned who they were."
"Excuse me? When exactly were you given a badge to wear? We were hired to protect this town, Chris, not arrest every man with a warrant against his name that passes through."
"Passes through? They shot up the livery, Ezra! You call that passing through?"
"Chris, please, I need you to trust me on this. Those men...."
"Why are you so intent to let them go? What are they to you?"
Ezra's mouth opened, then he shut it. Frowning, he shook his head, "They, uh, they...look, it isn't something I like to talk about, but I know that they are good men. I owe them. All I ask is that you trust me enough to consider why it was they were here and...."
"Enough, Ezra. If you think I'm going to help some outlaws simply because you feel you owe them something, then I'm sorry. That's not good enough."
"Chris, please, I realize that I am not your favorite person right now...."
"And you never will be, Ezra. This argument is over." Chris stalked away, leaving the gambler frowning in the middle of the road. Then the frosty green eyes narrowed, and the gambler balled his hands into fists.
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For several hours a fairly quiet spell crept over the town, the only excitement being when the hotel manager and Mr. Chambers came to complain about being duped by Face. Ezra soon had them quieted...and even paid their bill, much to the surprise of everyone except Chris.
In the meantime, Yosemite, according to Nathan, was much improved, and, though he had torn his stitches, the one called BA was also resting comfortably. Ezra had also sent JD to fetch the men's saddlebags from the livery, for which Face was extremely grateful. The lieutenant had tried to convince Vin and JD to let him have a bath before changing, but it did not go over well. He obviously asked the wrong people. Regardless, he was clearly very happy to shed his priest's costume, in favor of something more recognizable for a man of his ilk.
In other words, after he changed, he looked like Ezra.
Dark blue pinstriped breeches underscored a lighter blue silk waistcoat and navy three quarter length swallow-tail jacket, atop a nicely ruffled white silk shirt. When Inez had come across to bring them so food for lunch, it had taken JD pushing her out the door to get her to leave. All the kid could think was that it was a good thing that neither Buck nor Ezra had been there.
When Chris and Nathan arrived to take the night shift, Ezra was in the cell with the three A-Team members while Vin watched from the open door. The gambler was deep into a poker game with the blond lieutenant. Even the outlaws in the next cell were craning to see through the bars. The game was that good.
Chris was about to call a stop to this, annoyed that the cell had been left open, but Vin shushed him.
"They've been at this for an hour, Chris. I ain't seen Ezra this taxed since his ma was last in town. This guy's good. They were even for a bit, but then Face started winning. You can see, he's on a streak."
Indeed, of the money sitting on the floor there was about forty dollars in the pot, with only ten dollars still in Ezra's bank and almost thirty in Face's.
"Meet and raise ten," the blond man said evenly, putting three fives onto the pot.
Picking up his last ten dollars, Ezra placed it on the top. "Call," he said quietly.
"Somehow I thought you might," Face grinned. "Two of a kind, Aces and eights."
Ezra sighed heavily, causing Face to grin wider and reach for the pot.
"Uh, uh, uh..." Ezra said quietly, placing his own hand over the lieutenant's, "That was not an unhappy sigh, Lieutenant Peck." Tipping his cards so Face could see them, he displayed four sevens. The lieutenant's mouth fell open. "I believe the pot is mine?" Ezra smiled cheekily, his tongue sticking out slightly between his teeth.
In the other cell, half the outlaws cheered and held out their hands, while the other half groaned and passed out bits of cash. Hannibal clapped brightly, while Murdock and Vin laughed. Still grinning, Ezra raked in the cash and started counting it out.
"I believe that means I have sixty-five dollars to your fifteen, Lieutenant," he said, green eyes flashing with delight.
"He's got ya, Face," Hannibal grinned. "I think he's better than you."
Face snorted, crossing his arms. "Don't laugh too hard, Hannibal, that was our emergency money you made me lose."
"Made you lose? If I recall rightly, lieutenant, you said no small town gambler could beat you. When I suggested, merely suggested, that you put some of that lip to the test and increase our emergency cash a little, you did not exactly say no. In fact...."
"I'm afraid that you lieutenant may have been under a misapprehension, Colonel Smith," Ezra said, straightening and rolling the money into a tight wad. "I am not a small town gambler."
"No, he's a big town chiseler," Vin affirmed. "He just lives here now." Ezra tried to glare at him, but when Vin started to laugh, he couldn't maintain the look. He was about retort when he saw Chris standing behind the tracker.
"Uh, I think that will be it for now, gentlemen," the gambler stammered, noticing the dark expression in Chris's eyes. "I think the relief is here."
"Sure you don't want to stay, Ezra?" Chris asked. "I have no qualms about locking you in there with them."
"Ah...no, thank you Mr. Larabee. I'll be going. You coming Vin?" Ezra stepped into the main jail, and waited for the tracker. Vin shook his head at Chris, then handed him the keys and followed Ezra out.
"You're hard on that one," Hannibal noted, as Chris relocked the cell. Nathan was talking to the outlaws in the other cell quietly, to check that he they were all doing okay. Chris looked at the colonel, noting that Face and Murdock had retreated to sit on the single cot, pretending not listen. Face was dealing cards to the tall man.
"I don't recall asking your opinion."
"He's a good man. He doesn't deserve...."
"I repeat," Chris stated, "I did not ask your opinion, and, frankly Colonel Smith, I don't need it. So back off."
Hannibal frowned for the first time that Chris could remember. Slowly, the colonel nodded and backed away, purposefully putting his back to Chris to go watch the game of gin that his men were playing.
"One other thing," Chris said, raising his voice slightly, causing Hannibal to glance at him briefly before again turning to his men, "the judge in these parts, Judge Travis, is about three days away. Your man in the clinic should be fine by then, and able to join you." Hannibal nodded absently to the news, almost as if he didn't care.
With a disgruntled expression, Chris backed away from the cell and looked towards Nathan. For some reason, he suddenly felt really small, as if he had just lost the respect of someone very important. The colonel's just another hired gun, and a fugitive at that, he reminded himself. So why didn't he feel better for that knowledge?
Continued in part three
"Hannibal's plans never work right, they just work" or "How to Piss off Chris Larabee"
______________________________________________________
"GET DOWN!"
In the saloon eating breakfast, Chris, Vin, Nathan and Josiah all jumped up at the yell, recognizing the voice as that of Hannibal Smith. It had come from the clinic. At almost the same instant, a barrage of gunfire exploded outside, echoing down the street like thunder. Instantly, the four men were at the door, guns drawn. Up above, in his room, Ezra threw open his window, his rifle pushing out first.
"Yosemite! Look out!" A woman screamed, holding up the wall near the mercantile.
The people of Four Corners, though never fond of gunfire, were savvy enough to get out of the way, but one hadn't been quick enough. Lying next to his blacksmith rig and gripping his side, Yosemite rocked back and forth, moaning slightly.
Nathan shoved open the batwings and ran up the street, heedless of the danger. Behind him, the others came more cautiously, automatically covering their friend. The healer skidded to the ground next to the blacksmith, getting himself between him and the gunfire. Looking up, he saw the two nuns cowering just inside the livery doors, watching him with terrified eyes.
Around the corner, a combined gunfight and fistfight was in full force. About ten men were attacking Face, Murdock and Hannibal around the repaired wagon. Above, in front of the clinic, BA threw a man off the balcony, yelling just in time for Face to jump back and have the thrown man land atop the two he'd been fighting. It gave Face enough time to swing around and use the butt of his rifle to take down one of the men attacking Murdock. Then, in synchronized movements, the two men took out the other one with a few well placed blows.
Meanwhile, the artillery sergeant picked up his rifle and started shooting at anyone trying to get away, quickly stopping them in their tracks. Most fell to the ground, hands over their heads, well aware that they were all sitting ducks and praying to anyone who would listen that BA wouldn't actually hit them.
Hannibal shoved and punched his way out of a knot of five men, and, with Murdock and Face coming to help him, started taking them down.
Chris, Vin and Josiah moved in to surround the fighting men, grabbing any trying to run and throwing them to the ground. Up above, BA uncocked his rifle and settled down to wait, growling at the fact that he couldn't go and help. In the background, a half dressed Ezra, Buck and JD appeared, standing as backup.
A few minutes later, all the bandits were down, either unconscious or insensible, and the three members of the A-Team were the only ones still standing. Hannibal grinned as he put his gun away, pulling a cigar out of his pocket with his other hand. Face looked less pleased, wiping the blood from a split lip and looking towards the downed blacksmith and to the two nuns beyond. Murdock was already running up the stairs to check on BA, who had collapsed back into a chair on the balcony, gripping his leg. Red blood was leaking through the bandage, but the large man seemed to be holding up all right.
Hannibal wiped the dirt from his hands and grinned across at Face, "I love it when a plan comes together." Face covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly. Hannibal just laughed.
Chris Larabee, however, was not happy at all.
"What the hell happened!" he shouted, striding up to the Colonel and standing toe to toe with the man. Hannibal flexed an eyebrow.
"Oh, I should think it was obvious. We were attacked, Mr. Larabee."
"Attacked."
"Yes," the silver haired man looked around, "these outlaws were after the money to build a mission down in San Pietro, money belonging to the Sisters of Saint Vincent's Convent in Kansas City. They aimed to murder these two women," he gestured towards the livery, where Sister Catherine was helping Nathan with Yosemite and Sister Matilde was hovering a few feet away. Face had made his way over and was holding the younger nun by her arm, almost holding her up. Chris looked over at Yosemite, his expression dour, and Nathan caught his eyes. The healer nodded. When the gunslinger looked back at Hannibal, his eyes were as hard as flint.
"Buck!"
"Yeah Chris?" the ladies man jogged forward.
"Put them in jail. All of them."
"Mr. Larabee," Hannibal tried, his brow furrowing, "Now don't go jumping to..."
Chris put up a hand, stopping him. "You brought these men here, Mr. Smith. You doubtless knew they were coming -- your wagon displaying the marks of their previous attempts to capture you - and yet you neither informed me of the danger, or any of the people I protect. Now one of those people is hurt. At this point, I have very little interest in your side of things. Buck," Chris turned and walked away, not needing to see that his orders were carried out. On his way, he passed Ezra, the censure thick in his gaze.
The gambler averted his eyes.
_____________________________________
Amazingly, none of the men that had attacked Hannibal and his men had been killed, though several sported broken bones and all had plenty of bruises. Nathan had Vin and Ezra helping him tend to their wounds, while JD sorted out their names for the Judge. Hannibal, Face and Murdock were placed in a separate cell.
Oddly, none of the three members of the A-Team looked all that perturbed about being locked up.
"You need our names, kid?" Hannibal asked, looking across at JD. The Sheriff looked up from his desk, and his pile of wanted posters.
"Ah, no sir. I know who you are."
"Oh, terrific!" Face muttered sarcastically, "Our lucky day, eh Hannibal?"
Hannibal didn't reply, just held out his hand to the lieutenant. Rolling his eyes, Face reached into the breast pocket of his priest's jacket and pulled out a cigar. As he handed it over, he started griping again, reaching into another pocket for matches.
"Four Corners is a well protected town, he says. They'll never follow us in there, he says. We can hide the nuns then go back and take care of the bad guys safely, he says." The litany dripped off the younger man's lips with just enough acidity to make Hannibal smile.
"They did leave us alone for a while, Face," the colonel said lightly, as Face lit the cigar.
"And we did almost get away with it," Murdock added from where he had positioned himself against one of the walls.
Face threw his hands in the air, "I consort with lemmings!" he grumbled. "When Hannibal jumps off the cliff, Murdock, why is it you always follow?"
Murdock grinned, "You know why; it's cause he knows how to fly." He flapped his hands like a bird.
"Sure he does, about as well as a buffalo on opium."
"Oh cheer up, kid," Hannibal grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "Have I ever let you down before?" He ignored the caustic gaze from his lieutenant and shrugged, "tough crowd."
"Colonel Smith!" Chris strode into the jail to come to a stop just in front of the cell. "Is there anything you would like to tell me before I send for the judge and the army to come fetch you?"
Hannibal looked back at Face, then at Murdock, then turned a smile back to Chris, "Nope."
Chris's eyes narrowed, "If you think that you will be able to get out of this jail before they get here, Colonel, you are mistaken. You try anything...anything....and I will shoot you myself, are we clear?"
"As the finest crystal, Mr. Larabee," Hannibal nodded, still smiling. "But I do have a couple of questions....May I ask what you have done with the sisters? And is Yosemite all right?"
Chris regarded him for a moment before answering. "I would have thought you'd have asked about your man."
Hannibal dropped the smile, "Oh, I know you'll take care of him."
Chris nodded slowly, "Yosemite will be fine. He lost a lot of blood, but Nathan got him cleaned and stitched up in time. As for the sisters, they are currently on their way to meet up with the rest of their order, accompanied by two of my men."
Hannibal nodded, "Thank you."
Chris grimaced, "They wanted me to let you go."
"They were threatened long before they left to build the mission, but could not find anyone to protect them on the journey. The army is spread too thin as it is, and would not have been able to follow them into Mexico, which, incidentally, is where we were attacked the first time. As you can see," he gestured to the outlaws in the other cell, "the bandits were Mexican. So the sisters found and hired us."
Chris pursed his lips, accepting this. "Why did you come back across the border? There had to have been other towns nearer to where you were attacked, and, besides, you're not wanted in Mexico."
Hannibal smiled wryly, "Frankly, it was because I knew your town was here, and only half a day's ride away. BA was hurt and, based on your reputation, I was counting on you helping if they followed us the whole way. You did. Thank you."
Chris snorted, "how did you know that I wouldn't turn you in the minute I found out who you were?"
Hannibal grinned again, "I didn't. But I hoped. Guess I was wrong, eh?"
"Guess so."
"Shame."
"Hmm," Chris backed away and over to the desk. JD looked up. "I sent Josiah and Buck with the sisters, to get them back across the border. Set up a two man watch here." He looked at the two other cells, one of which was set up like an impromptu clinic, with Nathan, Ezra and Vin taking care of the injured. Ezra got to his feet and turned as he felt Chris's eyes on his back. The gunslinger shook his head at him, and Ezra turned away again, a flash of annoyance crossing the gambler's face. This was not his fault, darn it.
Chris looked back at JD who was pretending not to notice what was going on, and rapped his knuckles on the desk again.
"I'll be at the telegraph office, then the saloon, if you need me."
"Sure thing, Chris."
As he left, Ezra got the man whose leg he was bandaging to hold onto it himself, then took off after Chris, ignoring the outlaw's startled "hey!"
__________________________________
"Chris!"
Chris turned around, waiting as Ezra caught up to him. The gambler tried smiling, but gave up quickly under the stormy glare.
"I...uh, look, I realize that this may sound odd, but I feel I must intercede on behalf of Colonel and his men."
"I don't want to hear it, Ezra."
"Why? Listen, I know you're angry, but it was not their fault that Yosemite was hurt. Well, maybe it was a little, but I'm sure they didn't provoke the incident and...."
"I'm not arguing with you Ezra. Those men are fugitives. I'm doing what I should have done the minute I learned who they were."
"Excuse me? When exactly were you given a badge to wear? We were hired to protect this town, Chris, not arrest every man with a warrant against his name that passes through."
"Passes through? They shot up the livery, Ezra! You call that passing through?"
"Chris, please, I need you to trust me on this. Those men...."
"Why are you so intent to let them go? What are they to you?"
Ezra's mouth opened, then he shut it. Frowning, he shook his head, "They, uh, they...look, it isn't something I like to talk about, but I know that they are good men. I owe them. All I ask is that you trust me enough to consider why it was they were here and...."
"Enough, Ezra. If you think I'm going to help some outlaws simply because you feel you owe them something, then I'm sorry. That's not good enough."
"Chris, please, I realize that I am not your favorite person right now...."
"And you never will be, Ezra. This argument is over." Chris stalked away, leaving the gambler frowning in the middle of the road. Then the frosty green eyes narrowed, and the gambler balled his hands into fists.
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For several hours a fairly quiet spell crept over the town, the only excitement being when the hotel manager and Mr. Chambers came to complain about being duped by Face. Ezra soon had them quieted...and even paid their bill, much to the surprise of everyone except Chris.
In the meantime, Yosemite, according to Nathan, was much improved, and, though he had torn his stitches, the one called BA was also resting comfortably. Ezra had also sent JD to fetch the men's saddlebags from the livery, for which Face was extremely grateful. The lieutenant had tried to convince Vin and JD to let him have a bath before changing, but it did not go over well. He obviously asked the wrong people. Regardless, he was clearly very happy to shed his priest's costume, in favor of something more recognizable for a man of his ilk.
In other words, after he changed, he looked like Ezra.
Dark blue pinstriped breeches underscored a lighter blue silk waistcoat and navy three quarter length swallow-tail jacket, atop a nicely ruffled white silk shirt. When Inez had come across to bring them so food for lunch, it had taken JD pushing her out the door to get her to leave. All the kid could think was that it was a good thing that neither Buck nor Ezra had been there.
When Chris and Nathan arrived to take the night shift, Ezra was in the cell with the three A-Team members while Vin watched from the open door. The gambler was deep into a poker game with the blond lieutenant. Even the outlaws in the next cell were craning to see through the bars. The game was that good.
Chris was about to call a stop to this, annoyed that the cell had been left open, but Vin shushed him.
"They've been at this for an hour, Chris. I ain't seen Ezra this taxed since his ma was last in town. This guy's good. They were even for a bit, but then Face started winning. You can see, he's on a streak."
Indeed, of the money sitting on the floor there was about forty dollars in the pot, with only ten dollars still in Ezra's bank and almost thirty in Face's.
"Meet and raise ten," the blond man said evenly, putting three fives onto the pot.
Picking up his last ten dollars, Ezra placed it on the top. "Call," he said quietly.
"Somehow I thought you might," Face grinned. "Two of a kind, Aces and eights."
Ezra sighed heavily, causing Face to grin wider and reach for the pot.
"Uh, uh, uh..." Ezra said quietly, placing his own hand over the lieutenant's, "That was not an unhappy sigh, Lieutenant Peck." Tipping his cards so Face could see them, he displayed four sevens. The lieutenant's mouth fell open. "I believe the pot is mine?" Ezra smiled cheekily, his tongue sticking out slightly between his teeth.
In the other cell, half the outlaws cheered and held out their hands, while the other half groaned and passed out bits of cash. Hannibal clapped brightly, while Murdock and Vin laughed. Still grinning, Ezra raked in the cash and started counting it out.
"I believe that means I have sixty-five dollars to your fifteen, Lieutenant," he said, green eyes flashing with delight.
"He's got ya, Face," Hannibal grinned. "I think he's better than you."
Face snorted, crossing his arms. "Don't laugh too hard, Hannibal, that was our emergency money you made me lose."
"Made you lose? If I recall rightly, lieutenant, you said no small town gambler could beat you. When I suggested, merely suggested, that you put some of that lip to the test and increase our emergency cash a little, you did not exactly say no. In fact...."
"I'm afraid that you lieutenant may have been under a misapprehension, Colonel Smith," Ezra said, straightening and rolling the money into a tight wad. "I am not a small town gambler."
"No, he's a big town chiseler," Vin affirmed. "He just lives here now." Ezra tried to glare at him, but when Vin started to laugh, he couldn't maintain the look. He was about retort when he saw Chris standing behind the tracker.
"Uh, I think that will be it for now, gentlemen," the gambler stammered, noticing the dark expression in Chris's eyes. "I think the relief is here."
"Sure you don't want to stay, Ezra?" Chris asked. "I have no qualms about locking you in there with them."
"Ah...no, thank you Mr. Larabee. I'll be going. You coming Vin?" Ezra stepped into the main jail, and waited for the tracker. Vin shook his head at Chris, then handed him the keys and followed Ezra out.
"You're hard on that one," Hannibal noted, as Chris relocked the cell. Nathan was talking to the outlaws in the other cell quietly, to check that he they were all doing okay. Chris looked at the colonel, noting that Face and Murdock had retreated to sit on the single cot, pretending not listen. Face was dealing cards to the tall man.
"I don't recall asking your opinion."
"He's a good man. He doesn't deserve...."
"I repeat," Chris stated, "I did not ask your opinion, and, frankly Colonel Smith, I don't need it. So back off."
Hannibal frowned for the first time that Chris could remember. Slowly, the colonel nodded and backed away, purposefully putting his back to Chris to go watch the game of gin that his men were playing.
"One other thing," Chris said, raising his voice slightly, causing Hannibal to glance at him briefly before again turning to his men, "the judge in these parts, Judge Travis, is about three days away. Your man in the clinic should be fine by then, and able to join you." Hannibal nodded absently to the news, almost as if he didn't care.
With a disgruntled expression, Chris backed away from the cell and looked towards Nathan. For some reason, he suddenly felt really small, as if he had just lost the respect of someone very important. The colonel's just another hired gun, and a fugitive at that, he reminded himself. So why didn't he feel better for that knowledge?
Continued in part three