Part Four
"Looks quiet," Chris commented to Vin as the pair of them dismounted at the livery.
"You say that like it's a good thing," Vin said with a small half smile.
Chris chuckled slightly at the sentiment he shared. Quiet - great for the town, but not so great for the seven of them. It was surprising just how quickly they could find themselves bored when the bullets weren't flying. In a way it was a little disturbing. They should relish these moments of peace and tranquillity, but instead they bemoaned them. They actually preferred the danger and death.
Perhaps this was what happened after a while. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed the rush of excitement that he got when they were chasing the criminals or slugging it out in a gun fight. And the longer his life contained these bursts of danger, the more he seemed to want them - crave them almost. Part of him believed that it was only in these short instances that he was truly alive. The rest of the time he was just a shadow, waiting to be activated when the next life or death situation came to pass.
He'd been like this since Sarah and Adam had died. At the time he had told himself it was fine to live this way. That eventually he would snap out of it. But he hadn't yet and whilst his friendship with the other six had gone some way towards bringing him back to enjoy the thrills of living, rather than the exciting possibility of death, he still wanted the danger. He didn't think he could ever change now. Which, in a way, was a very sad thing.
"Or maybe not so quiet," Vin muttered, nodding at Buck and JD who had come to meet them. The pair of them were chatting together, clearly agitated about something.
"He should've told us," JD was saying with some distress.
Buck shrugged, obviously trying to remain philosophical about whatever was bothering their youngest member. Even so, it was clear that something was troubling him too. There was an uncomfortable look in the affable cowboy's face that he seemed unable to hide.
"A man's past is his own business," he said stoically, "Ya should know that by now."
"He should've told us," JD repeated again with an almost angry shake of his head, as they stopped by their newly arrived comrades.
"Hey boys," Vin greeted slightly cautiously. There was a big part of him that didn't want to know what was going on. Sometimes ignorance was the preferable state to live in.
"What s'up?" Chris asked, going straight for the jugular as Vin knew he would.
"Oh, the usual," JD said with a sarcasm that was so unusual for him, "Prisoner to be escorted, stagecoach crash, meeting Ezra's wife..."
For the first time since JD had met him, Chris actually looked shocked.
"Wife?" he exclaimed, wide eyed.
"Well," Vin said softly, seemingly unstartled by the news, "There's one I didn't see coming."
The other three glanced at him, wondering at such a placid reaction. Vin just shrugged.
"This is Ezra we're talkin' about."
That was true. They knew very little about each other's history, yes, but Ezra Standish was the biggest enigma of all. They weren't even entirely sure that was his real name. Should it really be such a surprise that he had kept secret from them that he was a married man? And yet each one of them felt some amount of betrayal. As if it was their right to know.
"Where's he now?" Chris asked, passing the reigns of his horse to Vin.
"Saloon," Buck said, "Alone with a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cards. Could get ugly."
"And we know how yer hate ugly, Buck," Vin said with a smile.
"I'll go talk to him," Chris stated firmly.
They all looked at him as if what he had said was ludicrous. Chris could understand why. He wasn't usually the one to go and try and have a heart to heart with someone. But if you needed a volunteer to go and beat some sense into someone....
"Okay," he said, justifying himself, "A quick show of hands of everyone here who's been married."
Of course, none of them moved.
Chris nodded and walked passed them, heading for the saloon. He paused briefly beside Buck, his face screwed up uncomfortably.
"If Josiah should turn up, you'll send him over to rescue me, right?"
Buck smiled, patting him firmly on the shoulder, "Sure thing."
"Good," Chris said, straightening himself up and trying to appear confident and in control as he strode over to the suddenly formidable looking batwing doors.
He had expected Ezra to be full of jovial smiles and wide gestures. Whenever the man had a problem, he seemed to cope with by pretending it didn't exist, knowing that sometimes the easiest way to deal with things was simply to ignore them. This time however he was sitting morosely in the corner, playing solitaire and drinking alone. Chris didn't know what to make of that. He had quickly prepared himself for talking the man into admitting something was wrong in the first place, and then moving onto the heart to heart. He wasn't really ready to go straight for the plunge.
"Hey," Chris said as a greeting.
Ezra looked up at him coolly before his gazed returned to the cards that he was now collecting into a pile. Chris had never seen such a mixture of emotions in the man's usually unreadable eyes. He was hurt, pleased, angry, shocked and about a thousand other things. Chris found himself wondering again how a particular woman could manage to do this to a man.
"Welcome back, Mr Larabee," the Southerner said cordially, a distance in his tone, "I trust you found nothing amiss on your journey."
"No, everythin' was fine," he said dismissively, "Mind if I sit down?"
"Yes," Ezra replied, bluntly, slapping the cards fiercely from one hand to the other as he shuffled them.
Chris did so anyway, laying his hat on the table. Ezra sighed like a petulant child and stood up, picking up his drink and deck. Chris immediately stood also and forced him back into his seat with a firm shove on his shoulders. Ezra glared at him maliciously.
"Don't make me have to hog tie ya, Ezra," he warned, sitting back down again.
For a moment the gambler appeared to want to relent, but a fierceness sudden came onto face and he stood again, sharply. Chris blocked his path, giving him his most intimidating glare. Ezra didn't seem fazed.
"Get out of my way," he intoned slowly.
There was stand off for a few moments. Everyone in the saloon had stopped what they were doing to watch the palpable tension emanating from the two men.
Chris saw the look in Ezra's eyes. He wasn't going to back down. If he had to, he'd slug it out with Chris to get away and the gunslinger didn't want it to come to that. So he stepped aside, allowing Ezra to storm out, leaving his cards behind him.
After a moment, Chris sat and shook his head picking up the bottle Ezra had left and taking a long swig. Buck soon joined him.
"Take it that didn't go to well."
Chris smiled wryly, "I weren't cut out for being nice. Next time I get an idea like that - shoot me."
Buck grinned in return, "Ya can pretty much count on it."
--
Annabelle had thanked the stableman, but said she'd sort out the horse herself. Mercifully he hadn't argued out of some chivalrous duty but had just left her in the peace she wanted.
After hurriedly leaving the saloon that afternoon she had had half a mind to pack her bags and quit this town entirely. She could have taken a horse and simply ridden over to Ridge City straight off. If a train wasn't available immediately there would certainly be a hotel or two she could find accommodation in. Thankfully, her sensible head had prevented her from doing such a thing. It would be madness to travel alone at night in this territory. Instead she had simply settled on going for a long ride, and getting away from the suddenly oppressive town.
Most of the afternoon she had given no thought to what had occurred. She had forced her mind to concentrate on the beauty of the day and the countryside around her. As soon as she had arrived back here however, she had felt a sudden pressure. As if every one was looking at her, talking about her. She hated the attention and scrutiny. It made her feel uncomfortable.
Now, as she brushed the horse down, she was left to ponder on some issues that she had long been unwilling to address.
'Horse'.....
She wondered......
Stepping out of the stall, she wandered down the others there, inspecting the occupants. Sure enough, the third one she checked contained a handsome chestnut gelding. Smiling slightly, she slipped inside.
Chaucer seemed uncertain at first. Knowing the horse was sometimes of an awkward nature, she reached out her hand and brushed it across his soft nose, allowing him to smell her scent. He seemed to recognise it because he whinnied softly and nuzzled into her hand.
"It's good to see you too, darling," she whispered to him gently, with a wry smile, "At least someone's pleased to see me."
--
Ezra sat in the church. It was possibly the worst place in the world he could have chosen to wallow. Churches. Weddings. Marriage. Annabelle. The associations were painful. And yet he knew it would be the last place the others would look for him, so he stayed and felt miserable.
He sighed deeply. Yes, and miserable he was. Even his mother - who had been the advocate of a great deal of the emotional pain in his life - didn't send him into this kind of melancholy....
He shook his head in denial - this was pointless and counter productive. He was losing money at the tables while he was sitting here feeling sorry for himself. He should go out there and cheer himself up with a round or two.
The suggestion sounded good in his head, but didn't translate into reality. It simply wouldn't work. And to make matters worse he had left his cards somewhere, preventing him from practicing tricks as a distraction.
Anyway, he'd have to think about this sooner or later. Might as well get it out of the way now.
The first thing on his mind was his reaction in the saloon. He'd been very harsh. Cruel even.
Truth be known, jealousy had been the reason. Not hurt or despair because of how she had left him, but because of the way she was with Buck. The way she laughed with him and soaked up all his attentions. He knew what the man was like. The only thing that scoundrel had in mind was getting her into the nearest haystack as soon as possible. The thought alone made him feel physically ill, followed by an overwhelming desire to rip Buck's throat out. And the man was his friend - if he had been a stranger, he just might have done.
Ezra just couldn't stand to see someone else on the receiving end of the smiles she used to flash at him. The way Buck had touched her hair - it was like the knife being twisted sharply and then wiggled about a bit for good measure. The instant he had seen it, warm memories had flooded his mind; drifting peacefully off to sleep as he held her close, twirling his fingers gently through her hair. She said that she found having her hair played with incredibly relaxing and he had been willing to oblige. Her soft contented sighs had always made him smile slightly. How could something so simple make her that happy?
When his mind had returned to the there and then, and he found himself still watching Buck's fingers in contact with her hair, his gut had constricted so violently he thought he might be ill. He had clenched his teeth in order to prevent himself hollering obscenities at the top of his lungs. He had become furious by the simple fact that she would allow anyone else to touch her.
As the afternoon had worn on, the anger had faded and had been replaced by remorse. He had said some dreadful things. She hadn't shown it, but he could tell that he had wounded her with his words. Why was he such imbecile when it came to the truly important things?
For the first time in his life Ezra honestly had no idea what to do. He always had some sort of plan to follow - when you lived a life like he had chosen you had to think about things carefully in order to avoid possibly fatal mistakes. But now he was simply undone and all because somebody in the heavens saw fit to give chance and nudge and put them in the same place at the same time.
Ezra closed his eyes briefly and prayed for some sort of guidance to come his way.
"Well, little brother," said an horribly recognisable voice from behind him, "If you're planning on taking shelter in God's house all night, might I suggest I get you a blanket or two."
"That's not quite what I had in mind," Ezra muttered sarcastically to the heavens. He didn't even look at the man behind him. He didn't have to.
"Mr Sanchez. I didn't know you had returned", he said aloud. In truth he had been hoping that the preacher and Nathan would not return for at least a day or two. He didn't need more 'advice' or empty words hounding him.
"Got back in a few hours ago," Josiah said, either missing the silent plea to leave, evident in the man's voice, or simply choosing to ignore it, "Saw you sitting here but....well, I guessed you needed some time to think things through yourself."
Ezra smiled wanly, "How very astute of you. You seem to be the only one to have come to that conclusion however." The others had been following him around all afternoon. Thank heavens he was such a slippery customer. It was the only thing that had allowed him to barely allude them.
He'd actually had half a mind to leave town for a while, but a sense of duty had made him stay. That was laughable. Sense of duty? Like the duty he had to his wife? He had dismissed that so readily, why not this?
Josiah nodded slowly, seeing the inner conflict in the man, "I'll leave you to it. You know where I am."
He began to walk away.
Ezra frowned. That was it? Josiah - the man who had something, that was meant to be profound, to say about everything - had nothing more than a 'you know where I am'? Ezra stood, holding out his arms in exaggerated askance - almost as if he were preaching himself.
"Is that it preacher?" he asked, mockingly, stopping the man in his tracks, "No words of wisdom. No tales of crows and Indian warriors that are meant to somehow apply to my situation?"
Josiah forgave the man his rudeness out of the stress of his circumstance. Clearly this woman's arrival had greatly disturbed the usually impeccably calm gambler.
He simply shrugged at Ezra, "As I see it, what goes on between husband and wife is a private business. Ain't no man's right to interfere."
Ezra stared at him a moment. Then he burst into laughter. Hysterical laughter of someone whose emotions were fraught to fraying point.
"The sanctity of marriage, Mr Sanchez? Oh yes, let's hear all about that! Come on, preach to me."
"I'm afraid it's something I've never had the honour of experiencing, son," he said, shaking his head and walking away.
That got Ezra worked up. Josiah was feeling sorry for himself? Did he think being a single man was really so hard?
"Oh, believe me, it is not an honour," Ezra said, dogging the man as he followed him into the vestry, grateful to have someone to vent his frustrations out on, "Do you have any notion of the trouble a wife will put you through? Of the misery and the sacrifices and the constant demands?"
"If it's so bad," Josiah said, contemplatively, "Then why would so many men willing submit to it?"
"Because they're fools that's why!" Ezra exclaimed, "A pretty face draws them in, and before you know it they're being frog-marched up the aisle."
Josiah studied him closely for a moment. Ezra was no fool, that was for sure. He was an intelligent, sensible, calculating man. If he had been lured into marriage it only could have been for two reasons. Love or....
"So what happened to you then, Ezra?" Josiah asked quietly, deciding to leave mention of the most turbulent of emotions out of this for a while, "The con go further than you thought?"
Josiah had never seen Ezra react so swiftly or with such decisiveness. One of the things he often admired in the gambler was his ability to delay his reaction to anything. To take a step back, weigh the odds and take action accordingly. This time however a nerve had clearly been struck.
Ezra grabbed Josiah by the lapels and slammed him forcibly up against the wall behind him. As always, the preacher was surprised by the strength of the smaller man. Not afraid - Ezra was a good fighter but in a brawl Josiah would have the advantage - but definitely surprised.
"How dare you?" the Southerner growled dangerously, a mixture of menace and hurt tainting his accent, "You really think I would marry a woman in the pursuit of some sort of profit?"
Josiah didn't answer.
Realising that answer was probably 'yes', and feeling disgusted at himself, Ezra let him go and backed off.
"I'm just saying," Josiah continued, seemingly unperturbed, "That you were the last one of us I ever figured to be getting married."
Ezra laughed bitterly, "None more surprised than myself, Mr Sanchez, I assure you." He shook his head in bewilderment, the anger again fading. Yes, how had this all come to pass? It certainly wasn't like him. And his mother....well she had had a fit when she'd found out, so it definitely wasn't something he'd gotten from her.
Ezra frowned, as if suddenly needing to clear the whole matter up for himself.
"You know, sometimes I wonder if perhaps I should have steered clear of the Lucky Draw altogether."