Few of the townspeople were about as the men rode back into Four Corners, and those that were paid little attention to the group. One rough–looking man, who had witnessed Ezra's beating of Chris in the bar, glanced at the gambler's injuries and chuckled at the men as they trotted past, "So, decided to take 'im outta town an' teach 'im a lesson, huh? Good for you!"

To his surprise, he received a murderous glance from Chris, and the men rode on.

"Y'all get Ezra on up to his room," Nathan said as the others reined in in front of the Standish Tavern. "I'll go get my kit."

"Ezra ain't gonna like his sheets gettin' bloody," Vin observed as he eased the gambler off his saddle into the waiting arms of Buck and JD.

"Reckon he wouldn't like bein' hauled up two flights of stairs neither, pard," Buck gasped as the full weight of Ezra's body sagged in his grip.

They carefully carried the Southerner into the tavern while Nathan spurred his horse up the street towards the livery.

"Easy there, Josiah," Chris said in a rough voice as he helped the preacher to the ground.

"I'm all right, Chris," Josiah assured him, despite the sweat beading on his forehead. "Figured I best be with Ezra now, he might be needin' my help."

Vin got on Josiah's other side as they mounted the steps into the saloon. "Reckon we can fix you up while Nathan's seein' to Ezra, then," he muttered, helping to steady the wounded man as they all followed Buck and JD inside.


Within fifteen minutes Nathan was at Ezra's side, cleaning and binding his friend's injuries. The map of wounds on the gambler's body told a vivid tale of the battle's ferocity; there seemed to be an endless array of gashes, bite marks and bruises on his chest and arms, some of them very deep.

"How's he lookin', Nate?" Josiah asked quietly from one corner of the room, where Buck was busy winding a long white bandage around the preacher's injured shoulder.

"Ain't too sure yet," the healer replied as he finished sewing up one of the more serious cuts. "Montreux didn't go easy on 'im, he might be bleedin' inside. Only way to know is to wait an' see."

Footsteps sounded on the saloon steps. The men tensed. After a few seconds, a knock came at the door.

"Senor Chris? Are you in there?" It was Inez.

Chris rose from where he'd been leaning against the wall and went to the door, shooting a warning look to the others: Inez couldn't know what had happened. He opened it only a bit and slipped outside.

Inez stood in the hallway, her dark eyes concerned as she watched him step into the corridor and close the door. "Mr. Parker said you beat Senor Ezra, but I am sure this is not true. What happened to him? Is he all right?"

He nodded, a flicker of anger flashing across his face. "He ran into a bit of a dust–up, an' Parker should keep his damn gossip to himself. Nathan's doin' what he can for 'im."

"I am sure," Inez said with a nod, then gestured towards the stairs. "Mr. DePaul from the bank wants to see someone about his vault. He believes it was tampered with during the night."

Chris glanced back at the room, paused, then gave her a quick glance. "Tell 'im we'll be right over," he said, and with a parting nod he opened the door and disappeared inside.

Nathan looked up from his work as Chris quietly closed the door. "Anything wrong?"

"Just somethin' at the bank," Chris replied, pursing his lips for a moment. "Inez was askin' questions, though, an' other folks will too, so we best be ready. Ezra was in a fight, that's all they need to know."

"We won't be lyin'," JD pointed out.

"Vin an' I'll see what the trouble is," Chris continued, pulling his wide–brimmed black hat on.

The tracker straightened and ran one hand through his long curls. "Hell, after all this, goin' after bank robbers sounds downright easy."

"Just let us know," Chris said as he put his hand on the knob and looked at Nathan. The healer nodded, and Chris and Vin sped out, each man sparing one last glance at the still, pale figure lying unconscious on the bed.

"There ya are, Josiah," Buck announced as he tied off the last of the bandages. "You ain't gonna be dancin' the two–step no time soon, but you'll heal up."

"Thanks, Buck," Josiah said in a low, gasping voice. During the procedure he had rarely taken his eyes from Ezra's quiet form.

Nathan shot a quick look back at his friend as he worked on Ezra. "You best just sit a while, Josiah, you're lookin' mighty pale."

"I'll go get us all some of Inez's coffee," JD offered, standing up. "I feel like if I don't do somethin' I'll go nuts just sittin' here worryin'."

"Reckon I'll join ya, kid," Buck said, standing up stiffly and picking up his hat.
"See if I can't get Inez to make us up some biscuits."

JD nodded, and they both walked out as lightly as they could. Nathan said nothing more as he concentrated on his work, and Josiah remained silent as well, preparing his weary soul for the sad possibilities of the day ahead.


The hours wore on. JD and Buck returned with the food and coffee, which was eaten with gratitude but without great appetite. Chris and Vin investigated the bank, asked some questions, and found that the bank teller had been preoccupied with an argument with his wife and had simply forgotten to lock the vault at the end of the previous day. Leaving DePaul to deal with his errant employee, the men left the scene and went back to check on Ezra.

By the time they arrived, Nathan had finished. All of Ezra's wounds, including his fingers burned by the holy water, had been tended. There was nothing to do now but wait. A clean nightshirt was pulled over Ezra's bruised, bandaged body, while his bloody clothes were gathered up and taken away. The gambler had still not regained consciousness, and as they settled him back into the bed an air of deep anxiety filled the room.

"Josiah," JD asked, stepping close to the preacher, "it said in that book I was readin' that if a vampire dies, he always goes to hell."

"Reckon so, JD," was the solemn reply. They were both looking at Ezra while Nathan arranged the quilt around him.

"But that won't happen to Ezra, right? He's not one of them no more." A fearful tone ran through JD's every word.

Josiah sighed. "It's hard to say, JD, but I'll do my best to see that it doesn't."

JD looked down at the bowler hat in his hands and juggled it a little. "Uh, well, if you don't mind, I might...just stop at the church on the way over to the jail. Light a candle or somethin'."

A smile creased the preacher's tired face. "The matches are on the table by the altar, son. Help yourself."

The young man nodded and walked out.

"Reckon we best get back to work," Chris muttered. "It's best if folks don't see anything unusual goin' on."

"I'll get that stolen horse back to the stable," Vin said. "Bet his owner's lookin' for 'im."

"I'm gettin' some breakfast, " Nathan said, rubbing his face and looking over to where Josiah was settling into his chair once more. "You stayin'?"

Josiah nodded a little, his blue eyes somber.

The healer smiled slightly. "That promise, huh?"

"Yup."

"I'll bring you back somethin', then," Nathan said as he went towards the door. "Ezra'd be right happy knowin' you was bein' so true to you word."

The older man leaned back with a sigh, getting as comfortable as he could. "To be honest, Nate," he said quietly, "this is one promise I'd really hate to have to keep."


The morning ripened into afternoon. The town went about its business, pausing only to gossip about the fact that the hired guns had beaten up that red–coated gambler to teach him a lesson. The other men squelched the rumor where they could–Chris and Vin somewhat angrily–but still it flew. Other than the upcoming Halloween party, there seemed little else to talk about.

JD went about the pretense of preparing for the party, helping Mary make the decorations for the dance hall and decide what games the children could play.

"Sure doesn't seem like Halloween is only a week away, does it?" Mary asked him with a smile as they cut out some orange paper jack–o'–lanterns.

JD's reply left her a little puzzled. "Oh, I dunno, ma'am, seems to me it's right on top of us."

Vin rode the perimeter of the town and came upon a hysterical man riding from the north. Slender and gray–haired, he frantically told Vin of a murder scene he'd come across while returning from Eagle Bend. There was a cabin by the road, he said, he'd passed it a hundred times before, but this time something made him stop and see if the occupant was all right. Good thing he did, the man insisted, because the old man inside had been brutally slain. Really strange thing, too, looked like all his blood was gone, and the visitor had found some very weird long, white hairs clinging to the body.

Vin followed the man back to the cabin and discovered that everything he'd said was true. Hating Montreux more with every passing minute, Vin and the rider solemnly gave the old man as much of a Christian burial as they could. Having found no information as to next of kin, they located a key, locked the cabin, and rode away, Vin promising to turn the matter over to the proper lawman as soon as he was able.

As he rode back to town, Vin contemplated the brutality of Montreux's actions. He wasn't sure if he thought there was a hell, but at the moment he found a great amount of satisfaction in indulging in the belief.

Afternoon waned into evening. Buck had kept an eye on Ezra while Josiah caught a nap on the floor. The preacher seemed reluctant to leave, and spent most of his time either silently praying or closely watching Ezra's bruised, eerily tranquil face for the slightest sign of awareness. The vigil proved frustrating. Every once in a while the gambler would toss into a new, more comfortable position, but there was no sign that he was awake, and, after settling down, he would not move again for several hours.

As dawn broke the next day, Josiah was still by the bedside, his head bowed in earnest prayer, when a small sound from the featherbed drew his attention. Lifting his tried eyes, he saw Ezra stirring a little, his expression puzzled as his eyelids fluttered open.

The preacher drew closer, a burning dread forming in his stomach. It wouldn't be easy to see Ezra shoulder the burden of remembering the past few days, but at least he could try and lighten the load a little.

There was a gentle rustle as Ezra shifted in bed, lifting his head from the pillow and blinking with confusion at Josiah's hovering form. "Mmph...Josiah?"

"Yeah," was the quiet reply, as Josiah tried to guess Ezra's state of mind. "How you feelin'?"

Ezra let out a small gasp and collapsed back onto the bed, his head plopping onto the down pillow with a soft poof. "Remarkably confused," he sighed, rolling slowly onto his back and frowning at the ceiling, "but otherwise my health seems to be in an agreeable state. What happened?"

"You were in a fight," was the calm reply. It was hard to tell how much, if any, of his ordeal Ezra remembered, and Josiah did not want to shock his friend with more information than he could handle.

Ezra accepted this explanation with complete credulity. "Yes...some cretin jumped me in the alley," he murmured with a weak nod. "How long have I been asleep? It feels like days."

"Just one day," Josiah assured him.

"Hmm," was the pensive reply. Then he stretched and breathed an enormous, comfortable sigh. "I confess I slept quite well, but...I had the strangest dream," Ezra mused as he settled back in the bed and reached up to scratch his chin with his bandaged fingers. As soon as the gauze brushed his skin, he stopped and pulled his hand away from his face, staring at it in surprise. His green eyes were wide, and Josiah could almost see the dark memories flooding back into his mind.

"Oh, Lord," Ezra whispered as he regarded his burned fingers. He turned to look at Josiah. "I...presume it wasn't a dream after all?"

Josiah leaned towards him, anxious. "How much do you remember?"

Ezra's gaze darted about as the images danced before his mind's eye. "Most of it, I'm afraid," he said softly. "Some of it is merely a dark blur." After a few moments, a quick gasp escaped his throat, and he looked back at the preacher. "Montreux?"

"Just a grease spot on the desert floor, now," Josiah said, "thanks to you."

The gambler's pale face split into a slight smile. "I believe it was a team effort, Josiah," he observed, before the smile disappeared beneath a more serious expression. He looked at Josiah's bandaged chest and shoulder. "Are you...recovering sufficiently?"

Josiah smiled, rubbing his shoulder carefully. "Take more'n this to slow me down," he replied. "Nate says I'll heal up, an' I ain't gonna argue with 'im."

His comrade nodded, clearly heartened. "And...the others...Vin, Buck...?"

"All fine," the other man said, laying a reassuring hand on Ezra's shoulder. "Worried about you, is all. Soon as Montreux died, his hold on Vin an' Buck died too."

Relief flooded Ezra's expression as he regarded Josiah from the depths of the down pillow. He sighed and turned his eyes towards the ceiling.

After several moments of silence, Josiah leaned forward. "An' how are you feelin', Ezra?"

The gambler continued to stare straight ahead. "If I had the ability, Josiah," he said in a very quiet voice, "I could tell you how it feels to rejoin the living after being consigned to the depths of the damned, to be free of the monstrous urges which have tortured me incessantly for the past two days."

There was a long silence as Ezra lay gazing upwards.

"However," he finally whispered, "there are no words sufficient to describe such a release, so let us just say...I am quite pleased to be home."

His last words were so soft that Josiah had to strain to hear them, their tremulous quality revealing an emotion too strong for Ezra to voice further.

Josiah's gentle grip on Ezra's shoulder tightened a bit. "Want me to get Nathan?"

"Not just yet," was the thoughtful response, as Ezra lay unmoving, still overcome by all that had happened to him. "As you know, Josiah, I...have suffered some wounds that are beyond even Mr. Jackson's healing abilities."

Josiah nodded, his expression sympathetic. "Nobody's gonna expect you to get over this in a day, Ezra. But you'll be glad t'know I gave all that money back you wanted, an' Vin returned the horse. So some of the wrongs have been put right."

"That is indeed reassuring, my friend," Ezra sighed, shifting a little in the bed and finally looking back at his comrade. "Perhaps the citizens of this town will eventually forgive me. There are other concerns, however, that I am afraid will not be so easily remedied."

"You know you don't got to carry that load alone, Ezra," Josiah reminded him.

Ezra bit his lip and shook his head, looking away once more. "I fear that is not the case, Josiah," he said quietly. "I alone have walked the paths of hell, and I alone must face the shadows which that journey has left upon my soul. It is not a burden any of you can have the slightest comprehension of, a fact which I fervently hope remains forever true."

"If we can keep fightin' like we did the other night, I think it will be," Josiah assured him.

Ezra met his eyes and nodded, a slight smile touching his lips. "Yes," he muttered. "I owe all of you a debt far greater than I can ever repay, and you particularly, Josiah. I am sure I would be dead now if you had not intervened."

"Well, I never was one to walk away from a good fight," the preacher admitted with a wry smile. "An' for repayin', don't worry about that. Gettin' you back to the tables again will be payment enough."

The gambler laughed; it was weak and punctuated with a cough, but its honest tone was pure music to Josiah's ears. "You may come to regret that wish, my friend," Ezra grinned.

Josiah smiled too, relieved to see that the heaviness in Ezra's heart had not crushed his spirit. "Reckon I'll go get Nathan an' let the others know you're up," he said, and rose.

"Very well," Ezra sighed, stifling another cough. "I'm sure he cannot wait to start pouring that tea down my throat."

"It's what you wanted, Ezra," Josiah said lightly as he walked around the bed towards the door.

The gambler drew another deep breath as he turned onto his side and settled back into the featherbed. "Yes, that's true," he murmured, "and no matter how much of that damned brew I have to ingest, I promise you, it is a desire I will never regret."


Nathan was quickly summoned, and before long Ezra found himself staring into the eyes of not only the healer, but the other men as well.

"I assure you there is no need for such overwrought concern," Ezra told them in a weak, slightly annoyed voice while Nathan checked his pulse. "I have had a most refreshing rest and am firmly on the road to recovery."

"Guess we just wanted to see for ourselves, Ezra," Buck announced, his face wreathed in a wide grin. "Don't fret, we'll be back to ignorin' ya in no time."

"He ain't gonna be that lucky just yet," Nathan warned as he released the gambler's wrist and stood. "You're gonna be restin' up for a while, Ezra, an' like it or not we got t'keep an eye on you 'til you're up an' around again."

Ezra sighed and pulled himself up in bed a bit. "Does anyone in our fair town know what happened?"

"All they know is you got into a fight," Chris replied, his voice still low and rough. "An' that's all they're gonna know."

"Not that they'd believe us if we told 'em the truth anyway," JD added. "Hell, *I* wouldn't, if I hadn't seen it myself."

"I would strongly urge against letting any of this get out," Ezra advised as he stifled a yawn. "It would either cause a panic or land all of us in a lunatic asylum."

"Don't think you got to worry 'bout that, Ezra," Vin assured him. "Folks here'll likely just forget all about it, once you're back on your feet."

"An' the sooner we get on out of here, the sooner that'll happen," Nathan advised them, packing up his kit. "I'll get some tea ready for you, Ezra, an' you best drink it."

The gambler groaned. "The great price of returning to mortality, I suppose."

"Can't say I didn't warn you," was the healer's amused response.

Ezra chuckled feebly, then cleared his throat, his face assuming a pensive air as he looked around the room at his comrades. "Before you go, gentlemen, I...want to convey my deep gratitude for your assistance through this whole nightmarish endeavor. I promise you, I will never be able to sufficiently express my thanks to you."

The other men all stood silent for a moment.

"That sounded pretty sufficient t'me, Ezra," Vin drawled with a slight grin. The other men nodded.

"Maybe you'll be thankful enough to start lettin' us win every once in a while," Buck added.

The gambler's bruised countenance lit up with a smile. "I said I was grateful, Mr. Wilmington, not insane."

"You'll be exhausted if'n you don't get some rest," Nathan chided him, "an' then I'll be lookin' after you right through Christmas."

He shooed them all out of the room as Ezra settled back into the bed.

JD was the last to leave, and he looked back at Ezra, his expression a mixture of relief and concern. "It's sure good to see you back again, Ezra."

"Thank you, JD," Ezra said as he looked up at him from the bed. "You were quite brave during all this, son. When I am well enough to venture into the saloon, you must allow me to buy you a beer."

JD grinned with delight. "You bet," he said brightly, overjoyed that his friend was truly with them once again. He waved a little and followed the others out.

"You rest up, now," Nathan warned as he turned down the lamp and began to pull the door closed. "I'll be back in a while."

Ezra yawned and nodded, listening as Nathan closed the door and descended the stairs into the saloon below. As he situated himself within the snug, warm confines of the featherbed, he knew that, as weary as he was, it would be a while before he would be able to sink once more into the soft arms of slumber. There was much to contemplate.

How strange it felt to be himself again, he mused as he arranged the quilt. The animal darkness which had tortured his heart was gone, the horrible urges no longer whispering in his ear. He would not be driven to madness, or murder, by unholy hunger; the blackness of damnation that had lain over him had disappeared. The nightmare was over, and he was free.

The realization was overwhelming. Normally Ezra prided himself on the tight rein he held on his feelings, but there was no stopping the rush of warm emotion which swept over him. As he covered his face and began to weep with profound relief, Ezra sincerely hoped none of the other men would come back at that time to check on him. He would have a devil of a time explaining this.

Good fortune was with him, however; no one disturbed his quiet rejoicing, and it was some time before Nathan returned with the tea. When the healer appeared, Ezra had curled up in bed and fallen asleep once more, his expression weary but calm.

Nathan paused, studying Ezra to make sure the gambler was not in pain, then quietly slipped back out, deciding with a smile that there would plenty of time for tea later.


Several days passed; Halloween drew closer. While Ezra recovered, the other men went about their daily routines, breaking up fights, collaring lawbreakers, and playing cards and drinking whiskey in the saloon. The gossip about Ezra died down, due in part to the angry responses such rumors garnered from the gambler's six friends, and in part to the fact that folks got tired of talking about it.

For his part, Ezra spent most of the time resting, obeying Nathan's advice with minimum grumbling. The wounds began to heal, the bruises faded, the sleep became lighter and less prolonged. He proved amiable enough when the other men stopped by, but it was clear that his mood was distant, his mind preoccupied with thoughts and dark memories.

On a bright autumn morning ten days before the Halloween party, Chris, Vin and Nathan sat together in the saloon, drinking their morning coffee and enjoying the rare tranquility.

"Shoulder back to normal, Chris?" Nathan asked as he idly perused the front page of Mary's newspaper.

"Mm–hmm," was the reply as Chris swallowed some of his coffee. "Ain't felt a twinge in days."

"Must be 'cause he ain't gone mountain–climbin' for a while," Buck grunted as he flipped through a recently acquired dry–goods catalog. "Dang, these Remington six–shooters are nice, think it's about time I bought me a new piece."

"Too bad you gone broke courtin' Miss Millie," Nathan chuckled.

Buck grinned. "Well, now, it ain't *that* bad–oh, hey there, JD."

The other two men looked up to see JD, looking a little out of breath as he approached their table. He was holding a small piece of paper, which he quickly handed to Chris.

"Ezra's gone," JD panted, bewilderment in his voice.

Nathan and Buck sat up, surprised, while Chris read the note.

"What?" Buck spat out, hastily putting aside the catalog.

"I went in to saddle Hero for patrol, an' found Chaucer gone an' that tacked up to the post next to his stall," JD said, nodding at the note.

"What's it say?" Nathan asked, frowning.

Chris glanced at him and handed Nathan the small, yellow square of paper. Written there in fluid, artistic strokes were the words: "Will return. E.P. Standish."

Nathan read it, and handed it to Buck. "Thought he might head out for a while, he's been mighty thoughtful the last few days."

"A man who's been through what he has, has got a lot to think about," Chris muttered, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands. "The desert's a good place to do it."

"'less he decides the tables at Ridge City are more to his likin'," Buck observed, reading the note before putting it on the table.

"Then it ain't nothin' to worry about?" JD asked, uncertain.

"Ezra's got most of his strength back," Nathan assured the young man. "I don't like it, but I s'pose he knows what he's doin' without us doggin' his heels."

JD nodded, wanting to believe the healer's words, and looked at Chris. "What do you think, Chris?"

The gunslinger sat silent for a few minutes, then reached for his tin coffee cup. "The note says he'll be back," Chris said quietly, "so when he's ready, he'll be back."


During the following days, Four Corners prepared for the upcoming Halloween celebration, and warmed the chilling air with flying rumors over the gambler's disappearance. His comrades knew and understood the truth–all of them could sympathize with the need to be with one's thoughts, especially after such a hard experience–but to those in their charge they could offer only shrugs and reassurances that Ezra would return.

Gossip explained his absence in a number of ways; some tongues insisted that he had simply lit out for good, while others contended that his six comrades had gotten even for his cruel behavior by taking him out of town, shooting him through the head and burying the body. Before long, the town's children were frightening each other with sworn testimony that they had seen the gambler's bloody ghost haunting the desert rocks and swearing revenge on his former associates.

The night before the party was clear and cold, and as the remaining six men left the dance hall, the midnight stars were shining brightly through the crisp air.

"Mary's gonna be mighty happy with the way the hall looks," JD proclaimed as he shrugged on his coat.

"Don't guess we did too bad a job," Josiah said in agreement. He had been out of the bandages for a week, his shoulder and chest now bearing only slight vestiges of soreness.

"I thought it looked downright festive, myself," Buck insisted. "It's amazin' what you can do with a bunch of punkins an' some paper an' glue."

JD laughed. "You was just lookin' to see where to hang the mistletoe when it comes time to put up the Christmas dance, Buck."

His friend grinned, then looked thoughtful. "Hmmm, wonder if that stuff works this time of year, too?"

Vin blew on his hands and rubbed them against the chill. "Think I could do with a gutwarmer before headin' out on patrol."

"I was thinkin' on some hot cider, myself," Nathan admitted as they turned their steps towards the Standish Tavern.

Chris walked with them and said nothing, puffing on a thin cheroot and trailing tiny clouds of smoke as they moved along. His expression indicated that he was deep in thought.

They walked down the street, their boots crunching on the dirt road, trading talk back and forth. The tavern appeared quiet and comfortable, the perfect place to relax after three hours of placing chairs and hanging miles of paper–chain decorations, and within moments they were stepping through the batwing doors into its glowing warmth.

"Looking for a game, gentlemen?"

Six heads all turned at once at the drawling, welcome voice, to see Ezra sitting in his usual place in the raised area of the near–empty saloon, shuffling his cards and grinning at them.

"Ezra!" JD exclaimed with joy, walking quickly over to join the gambler. The others followed him, relieved that Ezra had returned. The Southerner was still a little bruised and pale, but a calmer air had settled over him now, and a brighter light shone in his green eyes.

"Hey, buddy, good to see ya!" Buck said as he loped up the steps to the table.

"Likewise, I'm sure, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra replied, glancing around at them all as he continued to shuffle. "Mr. Larabee, Mr. Sanchez, I hope my return finds you in good health?"

"Good as always," Chris said in reply though the cheroot smoke, studying the gambler carefully.

"Same here," Josiah added, sitting next to Ezra. "Might ask the same of you."

"Sure gave us a start, you ridin' off like that," Nathan said as he sat down. The others took their chairs too, filling the table.

Ezra's smooth face wore a thoughtful expression as he met their eyes. "I apologize for any discomfort my departure caused, my friends," he said quietly, tapping the cards gently on the table to even them out. "There simply came a time when I felt it necessary to indulge in some private contemplation."

"No need for apologizin', Ezra," Josiah assured him, leaning forward in his chair. "Some of history's greatest men have found solace wanderin' in the desert alone with their thoughts."

"You spent this whole time out there just thinkin'?" JD inquired as he crossed his arms, leaning his elbows on the table.

Ezra sighed a little as he cut the cards. "Yes indeed, Mr. Dunne, I did."

"An' what'd you find out?" asked Vin.

With expert agility Ezra palmed the cards and began dealing them out, their cardboard forms flashing through the soft yellow light as they fluttered and slid into place before each of the seven men. "That thinking is not nearly as financially rewarding as poker. Five–card draw, gentlemen?"

The others chuckled a bit and settled in.

Buck stood and plopped his hat into the table. "I'll go ask Inez to draw us up some beers," he offered, and trotted down the steps towards the bar.

Josiah looked over to Ezra, his expression serious as he regarded the Southerner. "You come up with anythin' else out there, Ezra?" His tone was soft and laden with concern.

The dealing done, Ezra picked up his cards and arranged them, his own face set in more sober lines. "More than I expected, I must confess," he said quietly, his eyes staying on his cards but clearly seeing something else. "Much of it will remain private, but I will tell you that for a short while I questioned my continued presence here. I was fearful that my previous actions would greatly jeopardize the town's trust in myself, and in all of us."

"Hell, Ezra, they already forgot about all that," Buck said as he returned and sat down, picking up his cards. "Now they just think you're dead."

Ezra smiled. "They shall soon be dissuaded from that notion, Buck. I'm afraid it will take longer for them to decide I am not a rampaging lunatic, but in the end I decided it would be worth the effort."

"That the only reason you came back?" Nathan asked, lighting a cigar and watching his friend closely. "To save your reputation?"

The gambler regarded them all with an even gaze. "I am hardly a prime candidate for a holy crusader, my friends," he admitted in a low, even voice. "But I could not in good conscience abandon my duty to defend this town against evil, particularly after witnessing the sort of power it can attain. We know Montreux was not the only member of his species to pollute this region, and if any of his kin decide to pay us a visit, you will need all the knowledge available to fight them–knowledge which I alone possess."

"You wouldn't be fightin' that fight alone," Josiah reminded him with a slight smile.

Ezra returned the smile and nodded a little. "That is true, Josiah, and I am quite grateful. And make no mistake, this was not a lightly–made decision–personally, I would rather indulge in the worst sort of menial labor than ever have to undergo another trial like the one just past. Without my assistance, however, one of you, or the townfolk, might face the same fate I almost suffered. As self–serving as I am, I could not endure the thought of that."

"Maybe there aren't many of them things around," JD said hopefully as he leaned back in his chair and looked over his cards. "We might never see another one again."

Ezra lit a cigar and blew out the silvery smoke. "That would meet with no objection from me, son. After dealing with the undead, I swear, I will never complain about going after bank robbers and horse thieves again!"

Chris grunted around the cheroot in his mouth. "We'll see how long that lasts," he muttered, tossing in his ante.

The others laughed, and as Inez appeared with the drinks and joyfully welcomed Ezra back, the game commenced, amid much good–natured talk and banter. Soon the air was filled with cigar smoke, fluttering cards and tossed money, and the playing continued into the small hours. By the time it broke up, Inez had long since retired, trusting the men to lock up.

The men said their goodnights, some with considerably lighter pockets, all expressing their relief that the entire unpleasant incident seemed to be finally behind them. They had all gone, and Ezra was in the process of making sure the liquor was secured for the night, when the doors opened once more. Startled, Ezra looked up to see JD, walking towards the bar and holding something wrapped in a small, dusty green blanket.

"Ezra?" he said, somewhat hesitantly, "I got somethin' here I think you should have."



The old church glowed in the beautiful fall morning sunlight, its ancient dust swirling and sparkling as it danced across the beams pouring in through the windows. Josiah smiled softly to himself as he finished rolling up his sleeves and knelt before his tool box, ready to continue work on the loose floorboards in preparation for the upcoming holiday services. He could already tell this was going to be a good day.

His mind drifted back to the Halloween party as he began sorting out the nails he'd need. It had taken place the night before, and had turned out to be a huge success. The dance hall was full of townfolk there to celebrate the autumn harvest, drink hot cider, partake of the many cakes, pies and cookies baked by the women, and watch their children play games and listen to JD's ghost stories. The hall had been full of noise and laughter, and all who attended had agreed it was a first–rate party.

The preacher had to chuckle to himself as he remembered the consternation caused when Ezra showed up. He could still hear the shocked whispers of the gossips, especially when the other six hired guns appeared to have no problem with his presence, and actually treated him as if he were still their friend! The fact that the gambler was still alive was amazing enough, but his continued acceptance as a lawkeeper by the men he had so ruthlessly mistreated was downright astonishing.

And it hadn't stopped there. As Josiah tried to decide which hammer to use, more images flitted through his mind. Ezra had made it a point to approach and personally apologize to everyone he could find whom he had offended. No explanation was offered, but his words were so diplomatically phrased that none seemed necessary.

After the party, many of the men Ezra had spoken to had followed him back to the saloon, and Josiah had learned that morning that the resulting poker game did not break up until two o'clock. Ezra bemoaned his bad luck over breakfast, claiming that the cards were against him all night, which was why the men had all left with so much of his money. His comrades had smiled, nodded, and gone on with their eating, knowing full well the true cause behind Ezra's 'bad fortune'.

Josiah selected his tools and found one of the loose boards to be fixed, kneeling on the dusty wooden floor and holding the remaining nails in his mouth while he positioned the one to go in first. So, I guess it's back to normal, he mused as he began pounding. Evil has been routed once again. This will certainly be a Thanksgiving with something to be thankful for.

He had been intent on his work and making a lot of noise, so he didn't notice he had a visitor until the man was almost upon him.

"Josiah? JOSIAH!"

Startled, the preacher stopped hammering and looked up to see Ezra standing five feet away from him, hat in hand, looking at him with a bemused expression.

"Oh! Howdy, Ezra," Josiah said with an embarrassed laugh, taking the nails out of his mouth and getting to his feet. "Didn't even hear y'come in."

"I can't imagine why," was the dry response. The Southerner still looked pale and a little bruised, especially in the full sunlight flooding the church, but Josiah was happy to see that he seemed to have regained his strength. "The spirits have only recently gotten back into their tombs until next Halloween, yet you're in here making enough noise to rouse them yet again. Most discourteous, I'd say."

Josiah chuckled. "I'm guessin' you didn't come here to help me pound nails," he said with a small grin as he tossed the hammer into the tool box and put the nails into his pocket.

Ezra took another step forward. "An accurate assumption, my friend," he replied, and removed a long object wrapped in a blanket from under his arm. "JD was kind enough to give me this, but after some consideration I have decided it would be safer in your possession."

He pulled back the musty folds of the old blanket to reveal the long wooden stake used to kill Montreux, the vampire's red blood still staining its sharp tip and already turning brown. Surprised, Josiah glanced at Ezra, who was regarding the relic with obvious discomfort.

"I believe he felt that since I have had experience using it, it would be best left in my care," the gambler continued, his green eyes riveted to the object. "However, I fear I am...not quite ready to take permanent possession of it, and I feel it would be safer here anyway." He looked up into Josiah's face, his expression hesitant yet pleading. "If you will accept it?"

Josiah paused, saddened at how troubling the event still was to Ezra; from the disturbed light in his eyes, it seemed possible that the gambler would never fully be at peace with certains aspects of it. But this was a simple enough request. "Sure, Ezra," he said quietly, and wrapped the stake back up again before easing it out of the Southerner's hands. "We can keep it here. Best place to store the weapons of righteousness, I reckon. With any luck we'll never need it again an' it'll just rot to pieces."

Ezra's mouth twitched and he looked away, turning his hat nervously in his hands. "I pray that is so, Josiah, but I wish I could say with certainty that it will be the case. Montreux spoke of others as close as San Francisco."

There was a muffled thud as Josiah placed the wrapped object on one of the pews. "Maybe they'll stay there," he offered as he straightened.

"I do hope so," Ezra said with a sigh, dropping his gaze to the hat in his hands. "I am not sure..." he paused, then looked up. "That was not an experience I would care to repeat, you understand."

Josiah nodded.

Another deep breath escaped the gambler's lips as he began to pace the sanctuary, coming at last to stand by one of the sunlit windows. His voice was soft and puzzled. "As you know, I have spent a great deal of time mulling over this event, yet much of it is still a sealed mystery to me." He paused, allowing the warm light to flood over him, before turning to his friend. "Do you recall when I told you that I could sense some indefinable power at work in all this?"

"Yes, Ezra, I do," Josiah replied softly, leaning against a pew and regarding his comrade with great sympathy. "You weren't sure if it was God or what, but you knew it was there."

"Precisely," Ezra said with a nod, turning back to the bright sunlight of the window, "but now that it is all over, I would dearly love for whatever brought it about to provide me with some reason for it." He slowly shook his head. "I cannot fathom why this all happened to *me*, Josiah. I am hardly a candidate for martyrdom, I have no desire to wage holy war on the minions of hell. I have spent most of my life running with demons, not away from them, and have been perfectly content to do so. Yet here I am, seemingly a triumphant warrior against the vanguard of Satan, who has been to the mouth of hell and returned alive again." He chuckled a little and turned back to Josiah. "Could there possibly be a rational explanation for how I came to be in this ludicrous position?"

Josiah had listened patiently, watched Ezra's pensive countenance as he spoke, and now stood to walk over to his comrade with slow, measured steps. "Sure wish I had an answer for you, Ezra," he said with a deep sigh. "The Almighty's ways have puzzled mankind for centuries. I reckon the Lord just knew you were the right man for the job. You could've run, or taken the power an' riches Montreux offered you, but you had the strength to refuse it an' do what was right."

"If only I knew where that strength came from," Ezra mused, glancing up at the preacher. "I suppose you men and your ideology have had a corrupting influence on me. If I had met Montreux a year earlier, this all might have turned out very differently."

"Well, I'm glad he waited, then," Josiah remarked, clapping Ezra gently on the shoulder. "I got all day here, so you're welcome to stay an' talk some more, if you've a mind to."

Ezra looked around and shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, Josiah, but right now I am rather anxious to hasten over to the Tavern. It is my desire to forget this whole cursed enterprise ever happened and return to normal life as expeditiously as possible."

"Well, now, I wouldn't try to forget it," Josiah advised, picking up the hammer once more. "Just accept it as a divine mystery. An' if any more of them folk decide to make trouble here, I bet you'd find that strength again to help us take 'em down."

The other man glanced at him, his countenance a jumble of hesitation and appreciation. Finally he squared his shoulders and put on his hat. "Perhaps, Mr. Sanchez, perhaps," he said thoughtfully. "But it will always remain my fondest hope that we shall never have cause to find out. I am much obliged to you for your advice. If you are still in a wagering mood later on, I will be at my table all day."

"I'll likely be there," Josiah answered with a grin as he fished the nails out of his pockets. Ezra nodded and smiled, tapped the brim of his hat with one elegant finger, and walked out into the glorious morning sunshine.

Josiah watched him go, wondering at the mysteries that they had all had to cope with during the past few weeks. If only he could give Ezra the answers he was seeking; if only he knew why the gambler–why any of them, really–had been singled out by fate or chance or God to shoulder the responsibility they now shared.

Of course, many would argue that there was no need to find any deep meaning in any of it, their coming together to protect the town was merely by chance, their duty only a job ordained by the judge and nothing more. One day it would end and they would part, going on with their lives as they had before this all started; it was as simple as that.

But as Josiah resumed his task, he reflected that it had never seemed as simple as that, especially now. His faith often waxed and waned, but he knew what he had seen and felt as they worked together to vanquish Montreux. The strength Ezra found was the strength they all had, and it did not come about by coincidence. Josiah was certain of that much, if nothing else.

No more answers seemed to be forthcoming, however, Josiah thought with a smile as he smoothed over the finished nail with his rough palm, admiring how smoothly it had gone in. Why they had all come together here, now, and what lay in store for this small group of theirs, remained to be seen. He was content to leave it in the future; for the time being, the evil had been banished, the lost brother returned home, and the night driven away. If the evil came again, they would face it together again, and leave the rest for destiny to figure out.

Josiah smiled, picked up another nail, and continued his work in the glow of the luminous new day.

THE END

Thanks for reading!! If you enjoyed this story, I'd love to hear from you!! I can be reached at DelanySis1@aol.com.

Sue :)