Part Five

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER........

Ezra grinned delightedly, his gold tooth winking in an mocking tone as he scrapped in his winnings towards him. God, there was no other feeling like this on earth.

He had arrived in town just this very morning, not expecting to find much. A bed for the night and then on to bigger and better things. Kansas City was just beckoning him and he could almost hear the clicks of gambling hall chips like a bell tolling him to his spiritual home. For a while now he had been travelling with his mother, partaking in a number of cons she had devised. But, as always, that had become tiresome. Maude Standish was not the easiest person in the world to be around for too long. Perhaps that accounted for the five marriages she had gotten through....

In any case, Ezra had decided that the card tables were his next destination. Maude had scoffed at this, especially when Ezra had announced that he intended to play fairly.

"Playing fairly only increases the odds of you losing", she had preached, "You're better off stacking the odds more in your favour".

Ezra had refuted this however. For once he wanted to really test his skills. Find out how good he actually was on an even field of play. Maude had rolled her eyes - of course he was good. She had taught him herself.

No, he had pointed out, she had taught him how to cheat. He had taught himself how to play fair.

So he and Maude had parted company, promising to meet up at a later date. They hadn't set a place or time. There was no need to. When she needed him, she'd find him. She always did.

The fact that this growing town had itself a gambling hall was an added bonus to his first stop on the journey. Yes, he was a excellent poker play, but practice made perfect. Why else would he spend hours a day turning cards about his hands, honing their dexterity and swiftness of movement?

The Lucky Draw, as the establishment was known, was run by a young lady by the name of Ms Annabelle Cooper. Apparently it had been a joint business venture with her husband. Since his death on the battlefields at Gettysburg however, she had been left to fend for herself. Doing quite nicely by the looks of it too. He had almost laughed when he had heard about the 'no cheating' policy, wondering how on earth that could possibly be enforced. That was when he had found out that she was in fact the daughter of the infamous Zane Henderson. Fast shooter who had once been a lawman, but had long since turned his love of the card game into a legitimate business. He recalled his mother telling him stories of Henderson's ship, El Puerto. Cheating was outlawed on it, and strictly enforced. Unsurprisingly it had never been a place they had visited.

Ms Cooper, it seemed, had taken the same policy into her own business. By all accounts she, like her father and two elder brothers, had an expert eye for the cheats. Already this night Ezra had watched as two men had been ceremoniously stripped down to their long johns, tied up by their feet and repeatedly dumped in the barrel of filthy water outside. Ezra had briefly wondered on the legality of this before discovering that it was actually the sheriff himself who organised the dunkings. It seemed he was pleased to have such an establishment in town and wasn't above assisting in the ritual humiliation of a man or two.

For a short while, the thrill seeker in Ezra had wanted to challenge the system. See if he could cheat without being detected. Like all good gamblers however, he weighed up his odds and considered his options. If the lady was truly her father's daughter it would be quite possible that she would be able to rat him out. And his jacket, shirt and pants, were too good to meet such a tragic end. So, he had played fairly and won anyway.

And talking of winning....

Trained eyes quickly scanned the chips in front of him. Over the years he had managed to develop a skill whereby he could simply look at a pile of the small discs for a moment and know exactly how much was there. This night, he had gained himself a profit of three hundred and fifty eight dollars. Not a bad night's work at all.

"Gentleman," he announced grandly, starting to drop the chips into his up turned hat, "I am sorry to say that I appear to have complete renounced you of all your finances." The grin widened almost predatorily, "On second thoughts - no, I'm really not."

"Not what?" one of the cowhands asked, clearly confused and perhaps a little shocked. He had announced at the beginning of the game that he was considered quite the card player. He hadn't expected to be beaten so easily.

"Sorry," Ezra said, tucking the remaining chips into any available pocket, ""To say I was would be a fallacy and I am, at heart, and honest man."

"Bullshit," one man growled.

Inwardly Ezra sighed. There was always one.

"Sir, I would appreciate it if you could mind your tongue in front of these.....er...ladies," he said, indicating the whores who had strolled over to watch the game in hopes that they may get some of the winner's money if he took a fancy to them.

"You're a cheater," the man growled again. He was thick set, with a black beard and beady eyes. Ezra could tell by just looking at him that he wasn't exactly a the brightest match in the book.

"I played fairly," the Southerner said again, his tone dismissive, "You're simply just very bad at the game."

The bearded man didn't seem to accept that, "You cheated me," he said slowly, emphasising every word. The other patrons around the table began to surreptitiously slip away.

Ezra regarded him with a cool gaze, "Do you have a difficulty comprehending simple English?"

Seeing the glare of the bearded man, the dealer began to looked nervous, "Err.....gentlemen, there must be a way of-"

"He played fairly, Jeremiah. I was watching."

Ezra glanced up to see the lady who had approached. A fine looking woman to be sure, with a manner that wasn't to be trifled with. Dealing with her would be like playing with fire - warm and exciting, but you were bound to get burnt.

The bearded man's bravado faltered just slightly, "But look at him, Ms Annabelle. Look how he's dressed. Namby Southern boy here's a gambler. They always cheat."

"Not this time," Annabelle said, moving behind him, leaning close to his ears, "Now, unless you're looking for a little bath, I'd suggest you'd leave. You know I don't like trouble here. It gets me all in a fluster and that disturbs my sleep which makes me cranky. And then heaven knows what I'd do."

The bearded man glanced at her carefully, not sure whether or not that was a threat. Her voice had been soft, but the gentle malice there was unmistakable.

"You heard the lady," a tall, handsome blonde man said as he appeared out of nowhere.

Evidently, bearded man had no problems recognising this gentleman as a threat and left with a glare but without another word.

"Thank you Sheriff," Annabelle said, throwing him a beaming smile.

"Anything for you, Ms Annabelle," the handsome man said as he smiled in return, before tipping his hat and disappearing off into the crowd.

Ezra smiled slightly. Clearly the woman was not above using her obvious feminine charms to exert influence when she felt it necessary. It was a skill his mother had turned into an art form.

"Lord," she said, sitting opposite him at the table, "Do I hate a bad loser. I just cringe with embarrassment for them. 'Lose with dignity and win with humility', that's what my father always said."

"Wise words," Ezra replied, a twinkling smile coming to his face. Her boldness interested him. And spending some time with her wouldn't be entirely unpleasant.

"One's you might wish to heed to," she advised, at the same time beckoning one of the bar girls over, "Especially the 'winning with humility' aspect. Yes, you did indeed play a good game, but rubbing their noses in it - well, you can imagine the scene: the losing party goes to drown his sorrows in the bottle, gets all liquored up, decides he wants his money back and comes after you with a double barrel...All those winnings are going to get you then is a decent coffin and a nice suit to be buried in."

Ezra grinned as the bargirl arrived and laid down a bottle of whiskey and two glasses between them, "Well, madam, I personally cannot see the joy in the victory if it isn't celebrated."

"The joy should be the victory itself," she responded, pouring out two shots.

"Perhaps it should," Ezra conceded, after a moment's thought. "But in any case, please don't feel the need to concern yourself over my safety. I am more than capable of attending to my own well being."

She smiled and reached across, handing him a glass. At the same time her other hand whipped out taking advantage of his distraction to squeeze on his right arm. The derringer immediately flew out of it's rigging.

Ezra looked down at his revealed weapon and then back up at her.

"Yes, quite capable as it appears," she said, with a satisfied smile.

Ezra nodded in acknowledgment, "Well, my oh my. Your shrewdness is quite remarkable, madam. I believe that is worthy of a toast."

She took just a moment to decide before raising her glass. Ezra smiled again and lifted his glass to clink it against hers.

With lightening quick reflexes, his other arm shot out and tapped in a specific spot on her forearm. A gun similar to his popped out of its hiding place, knocking the glass from her hand so it smashed on the table.

She appeared startled for a second, but that quickly dissolved into a knowing smile.

"Touche," she admitted softly.

"Miss?" Ezra called out, attracting the attention of the bargirl, "Another glass for the lady please." His eyes turned back to study the woman sitting opposite him who was currently returning the gun to its depository.

"A sensible precaution in your line of business I should think. Although," he added, loud enough so only she would hear, "I am not entirely sure whether that is strictly lady-like behaviour."

The girl arrived with a fresh glass.

"Well," Annabelle admitted, "If I insisted upon constricting myself to strictly lady-like behaviour I certainly would have been dead long before now, Mr....?"

"Standish," he replied, "Ezra Standish."

"Annabelle Cooper," she responded.

Ezra reached out and brought her hand to his lips, kissing the back softly. He could taste the spilt whiskey on her skin.

As he lingered for a perhaps a moment longer than he should have, he studied her face for reaction. If she had one she wasn't willing to show it. The woman was that good she might have been a pupil of his mother's.

Resting her hand on the table he nodded towards her glass, "Allow me."

She pushed it at him and he poured her a fresh drink.

"Allow me to also add my apologies for the fate of your previous libation," he continued as he set the bottle back down on the heavy wooden table, "I simply hadn't accounted for the unfortunate side effect of my demonstration."

"My," she said, smiling ever so slightly, "Quite the gentlemen, aren't we?"

Ezra shrugged, "I try my best, madam. Now, I suppose we must drink to something."

"To your game," she said promptly, "Your skill was quite impressive."

"Why thank you," he smiled, "From a woman of your linage, a high citation indeed."

Annabelle didn't bother asking about how he knew about her 'lineage'. She realised he father had attained quite a reputation for being the best in the business at spotting a cheat. It was inevitable that a cardsharp like Standish would have some knowledge of their activities.

They clinked glasses and tipped the drink back. Ezra watched with some amazement at her complete lack of reaction. It was fine liquor. Strong, rich stuff and she drunk it with easy. She confused him a little. She dressed like a lady, spoke like a lady, had many of the airs and graces of a lady and yet.....and yet here she was carrying a gun and having a private drink with a man she'd only just met.

"I must admit that I am surprised you have bothered to take much heed of me," he pondered aloud, "Despite my exemplary playing skills."

"Why?" she asked, her tone boldly honest, "Because you so obviously adhere from south of the Mason and Dixon's line?"

He nodded.

"I don't bare the South any ill will, Mr Standish," she said shake of her head.

"Even bearing in mind what happened to your husband?" he probed, even though he probably shouldn't have.

She was thoughtful for just a moment before replying.

"In my eyes, James knew exactly what he was doing when he went out there. He was never a fighter. Could play cards like a expert and was a better rider than any man I ever met but.....he simply wasn't a fighter. I knew when he went that he wouldn't come back. I told him so too. But he wouldn't listen and I don't blame anyone else for his pig-headedness."

Ezra inwardly thanked her. If only everyone felt the same. The government had encouraged the Yankees to forgive and forget, but that wasn't always practised. As a Southerner, he was acutely aware of a certain amount of prejudice from some members of society.

"Just let me ask you one more thing," he said, trying to lighten the tone again, "'The Lucky Draw'?"

Annabelle smiled. The rather pained expression on his face was clearly expressing 'who on the earth thought that one up?'.

"His idea, not mine," she reassured, "I hated it with a passion. Told him it was simply tacky but as usually he wouldn't listen to me". She shook her head with a sigh, "Men have no taste."

Ezra smiled and laughed, "On behalf of my gender I would like to lodge a complaint.....unfortunately I find myself willing to agree with you for the most case."

.......

Josiah listened without interruption as Ezra told him of their first meeting at the Lucky Draw. He could see in the man's face the genuine fondness that the memories brought back. It was an expression he had never seen on Ezra before and it made him feel badly about what he had said earlier. True, he had only accused it of being part of a con in order to anger the man into revealing what had really happened, but it was clear that he loved this woman and what he had said must have cut quite deeply.

"So," the preacher asked, snapping Ezra out of the silent reverie he seemed to have fallen into, "What happened then? How'd you end up with a wedding band?" There was an unwritten law in the West that a man's past was his own, and no one had the right to ask for it. Josiah knew however that Ezra needed this catharsis and so felt justified in pushing him a little.

The gambler smiled, "I stayed in town. I had intended to leave the very next morning but I found an excuse to stay. Told myself that it might be lucrative in monetary terms."

Josiah joined his smile, "But it was her. That's why you stayed."

"I felt....drawn to her," Ezra said with a shrug, trying to appear flippant but not succeeding, "A certain kinship that I couldn't describe. As a boy I had never really had an opportunity to make....well, any friends at all. I was on the move so much I never got a chance......But Annabelle...." he trailed off, not sure what to say.

"Still don't explain how you ended up marrying the woman."

Ezra's warm smile turned to an mischievous grin, "Oh the usual way of courtship. Talked to her, flirted outrageously, then proceeded to burn her business out from under her."

................

Ezra's mind fuzzed as another punch connected with his jaw. How exactly had this escalated into a brawl? He had simply suggested to the gentleman that his intelligence was considerably less than that of a rabid dog. Somehow he had taken offence to that. So had all his large, hairy friends. All of which had seemingly partaken in a large amount of liquor.

A chair had been tossed in his direction, which he had nimbly avoided. Instead it had struck the man behind him. He just happened to be a popular ranch hand who had, as chance would have it, all his burliest friends with him.

Needless to say a brawl had broken out. Men hitting men whether they knew who they were or not. The sheriff had arrived to break it up. Unfortunately he'd been immediately struck on the head by a flying patron and rendered senseless.

Ezra found himself snapped back to the here and now as a table leg was swung at his midsection. He jumped back, the swipe missing him by less than an inch. As he did this however, he knocked into a man behind him. The man immediately took this as an attack and grabbed him, slamming him down onto the bar. Looking around for an appropriate weapon as the larger man grabbed at his throat, he caught a pair of dark green eyes glaring down at him furiously.

"Mr Standish," she said tartly, "Just exactly which part of my 'no violence' policy gave you the trouble in its comprehension?"

"Well, madam," he said hoarsely as the man continued to clutch at his throat, "I would be perfectly amenable to discussing this matter." He glanced meaningfully at the bottles of whiskey on the shelf behind her, "Perhaps over a drink would be nice."

She rolled her eyes at him in annoyance. Turning round, she picked up a bottle and raised it to strike. Then she gasped in horror as she realised it was the expensive stuff. Putting it down and replacing it with a cheaper counterpart, she grabbed it by the neck and clonked Ezra's attacker over the head. The man immediately crumpled to the floor.

Ezra, whose vision had just began to blur, lay there for a moment as he caught his breath. When he stood he turned to thank Annabelle and found her brandishing another bottle.

"Just give one good reason why I shouldn't let you have this and a dozen others to follow," she said, her anger increasing once she was assured he was all right.

"Well," he said with an easy grin, "I can think of far better uses for it."

She sighed deeply, but handed it over anyway. Ezra tipped his hat at her in thanks and turned to strike the man who was advancing on him. He stopped to watch the guy's dazed expression as he fell to the floor. A smile almost made it to his lips but stopped when he saw more men stagger in off of the streets. By the look of them, they had just been kicked out of the saloon and had decided that they might just join the 'festivities' over here instead. Whopping and hollering, shouting something about not having been involved in a good kicking in ages, they pulled their guns.

With lightening speed, Ezra jumped over the bar, barging straight into Annabelle and knocked her to the floor underneath him just in time to escape the aimless bullets that hit the bottles behind them. Glass showered down, stinging through the shirt on his jacketless back. His sense of gentlemanly chivalry however made him make sure she was completely protected from the painful rain.

One of the drunken gunman managed to hit the tether holding an oil lamp. It crashed down onto the table. As fate would have it, the oil inside ran out into a trail of spilt liquor, providing a perfect conduit for the fire to quickly spread.

The men suddenly weren't so interested in fighting after all. More in getting the hell out of there.

Ezra heard the whoosh of flames and looked up. Assisting Annabelle as she rose to her feet, they starred helplessly around as the fire spread rapidly over the sea of alcohol that bathed the room. As soon as the flames hit the dry timber of the walls, these went up too. In matter of thirty astounding seconds much of the place was alight.

Annabelle huffed angrily as men ran for their lives through the front door, some dragging unconscious friends behind them . She slowly turned an awful glare on Ezra. He shrugged and tried to look apologetic.

"May I escort you towards a hasty retreat?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Annabelle opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off as she got a lungful of smoke and began to cough. She simply nodded and took his hand.

He led her swiftly through the rear exit, easily kicking down the locked door. They didn't stop running for thirty paces until an awful crash was heard inside. They both turned to watch as the first floor joined the ground floor. The force of the collapse was so great it knocked them both clean off of their feet.

It took a good minute for either of them to regain their senses. Ezra looked down to where she was lying below him, checking to see if she was hurt.

"Really, madam," he said quietly, sudden aware at so much contact between their bodies, "We should stop meeting in this manner."

"Oh, Mr Standish," she replied, with a worryingly calm smile, "I have a feeling we shall be meeting a whole lot more."

.....................

"What'd she mean?" Josiah asked as he sat himself down next to Ezra on the floor. The man seemed to be well into the flow of the tale now and he didn't really like to stop him, but the remark was a curious one. Why hadn't she been more angry?

Ezra let out a small laugh, "Believe me, Mr Sanchez. I was similarly perplexed by the lady's unusual response. Fortunately she didn't keep me waiting long."

....................

Ezra groaned in protest as his body began to become fully aware of the punishment inflicted on it the previous night. He was usually a man to sleep in as long as he wanted, and the small amount of light permeating his closed eyelids was testament to the fact that it was still early as he woke. Unfortunately his battered body was just too uncomfortable to lie down on right now. He had bruises on his ribs, abdomen and side, not to mention the plethora of small glass cuts on his back. He was going to be in some pain for days.

And he had lost his favourite jacket.

He forced himself to sit up, burying his head in his hands as a small wave of nausea washed over him, his head spinning.

"My, oh my," the unexpected voice said, "We have got our just deserts this morning."

His eyes snapped open and he fumbled for the Remington in the holster that was hooked over the bedpost. He grimaced in pain as the twisting tore at the cuts and bruises. The effort was wasted however as the gun wasn't there.

He heard the clonk of a weapon being placed on the sideboard and glanced up to see Annabelle sitting in the chair by the window.

"I believe," she said brightly, "That is what some refer to as karma at work."

Ezra subconsciously pulled the bed sheet tighter around his naked form. He squirmed slightly uncomfortably at the situation of a woman he barely knew sitting in his bedroom.

"Oh, and forgive my relieving you of your gun," she added, brightly, "I was just a little concerned at how you'd react to being woken up. After all the trouble you've caused me it wouldn't be the done thing to shoot me as well."

"What in heaven's name do you think you are do-" he began, stuttering as he started to ask the obvious question before something else crossed his mind. He frowned, cocking his head to one side and looking her up and down, "Where did you get those clothes?"

She was dressed in a pretty dark blue skirt, bodice and white blouse. He could tell by the tailoring that they had been rather expensive.

But hadn't all her possessions been lost in the fire last night?

She smiled, running her fingers over the soft, fine material. "What do you think?" she asked, standing up to give him a twirl, "I was always told that blue brings out my eyes."

He took a slightly awkward study of her form. He did find her attractive but he really didn't want her to know that. It would allow her too much power over him.

"Well, they're lovely," he said, still stuttering just slightly. Indeed they were. Especially the tight fit of the bodice and blouse which enhanced her feminine curves.

"But who on earth would be so kind as to want to 'bring out your eyes' in such an expensive manner?" he added with gentle sarcasm.

She tossed his billfold towards him, and he caught it with sickening realisation.

"You," she needlessly clarified.

Ezra was astounded. Money? She had taken his money? He flicked through the remaining notes, realising that there were at least half the amount there should be.

"I think it was the least you could do," she said, sitting back down again, "After all, you did start a fight which has completely ruined me. A most ungentlemanly thing to do, if I might add."

"You stole my money?" he asked, unbelievably, his voice trembling slightly at the outrage of it. His bright green eyes bore into her mercilessly, "You stole my money! Madam, this is sacrilege!"

"No, Mr Standish," she replied, all business, "I have simply started the ball rolling on the business deal we are about to embark in."

"'Business deal'?" he enquired, with a rather harsh look.

"Yes. Until you have helped me earn back enough money to set myself up again, you and I are partners."

Ezra laughed, part amused and part amazed at her sheer audacity. "I don't work with a partner," he said, shaking his head in firm denial.

"I could have you thrown in jail."

He looked at her steadily for a moment. She never once faltered in her gaze. The woman was indeed serious in her threat. For some odd reason it didn't anger him - only made him respect her deviousness more. The harshness in his gaze softened, and an interested gleam replaced the hostility.

"And, tell me, my dear," he said quietly, "What kind of partnership do you have in mind?"

She smiled in a coquette manner, "Well, you're a con man and card player. I have a god given talent with the decks, not to mention an inbred ability to.....turn things to my advantage. I'll let you work out the rest."

Ezra was going to say 'no'. The whole reason he had left his mother's company was to go to Kansas City. and he opened his mouth to say so when he spotted the object she was playing with in her lap and it momentarily changed his train of thought.

"A parasol?" he enquired dryly, with a raised eyebrow.

She shrugged, obviously not bothered in the slightest at his tone. "I've never owned one before. And it was awfully pretty. I'd tell you how much it cost but you're in enough pain already."

This woman was different from others, that was clear and he found himself liking it. As annoyed as he was, he liked that she had the audacity to come in here and do this to him. Her courage and spirit were admirable. Besides, he knew her reputation. A business deal could be highly lucrative for them both.

The company would be nice also. The life of a con man was a lonely one by very definition, but Ezra craved the presence of others. He needed someone around who he could talk to and laugh with. Not simply the people who he was ingratiating himself to in order to gain access to their money. Annabelle was charming, interesting and knew him for what he was. Spending time with her would not be unpleasant at all.

"Very well, Ms Cooper," he said with a thoughtful nod, "We have an agreement."

She smiled, genuinely pleased this time. For just a small moment Ezra's heart caught. There was something. Something about her....

"And," she said, rising once more, "Now this."

She walked across to the bed and held out a small pot of some kind of ointment. He glanced up at her curiously.

"Well," she explained, "The money, the clothes and the deal were for ruining my business. This, however, is for saving my life."

She sat down next to him and scooped up some of the white substance, looking at him in askance. Ezra appeared uncomfortable.

"Perhaps you should allow me to deal with this part myself," he said, quietly.

"Oh don't be ridiculous," she scolded, shaking her head. "You are in no condition to. And besides", she added with a wicked grin, "You haven't got anything I haven't seen before. I was once a married woman, remember?"

"Yes," Ezra replied, "But perhaps there are some things even business partners should keep secret from one another."

Despite his cool words and unflustered face, Annabelle could see that he was somehow uncomfortable with it. She smiled gently, smoothing the mischief from her eyes, trying to easy his fears.

"I'm simply trying to protect my investment, Mr Standish," she explained.

"My dear," he said, with a twinkling smile, "If we are to become so closely acquainted I believe we may become a little more colloquial with one another." He held out his hand for her to shake, "Ezra."

"Annabelle," she confirmed, as she took his hand, noting the soft skin and delicate fingers. Gambler's hands indeed. Fast, dexterous and deadly with a pack of cards. Usually with a gun too. Might come in handy.

"Now, about those wounds...."

Ezra took a deep breath and allowed her to move the sheet slightly so she could get access to the bruises that covered his chest and back. That he felt so uncomfortable with her touch was worrying. In any other circumstance, a beautiful woman wanting to attend to him would be a welcome thing but part of him wanted this just a little too much.

Annabelle smoothed the ointment gently over his back, shoulders and chest. She could feel his eyes boring into her as she ran her fingertips over taught muscle covered with smooth skin. He certainly had a handsome body to match that handsome face of his.

Immediately she scolded herself for the thought. She was his business partner. Matters shouldn't be complicated by allowing emotions to come into this.

Little did she know Ezra was thinking precisely the same thing.

....................

Josiah grinned, "Ezra, you have more self-control than I would have given you credit for. Caught a glimpse of the lady in question earlier. Beautiful woman."

Ezra smiled wanly, "I assure you, Mr Sanchez, my restraint was due to entirely self-serving reasons. A business relationship should never be complicated with notions of friendship, let alone anything more."

Josiah wondered at his friend sometimes - some of the things that came out of his mouth were beyond belief. How any man could live by Ezra's rules and be happy, he wasn't sure.

"So, how'd you end up breakin' that decree?" he asked.

Ezra shrugged, his gaze turning to the floor.

"You will excuse me if I do not go into details but...." he trailed off, not wanting to explain his reasons. And he didn't have to. It was clear to Josiah that it hurt.

"We fell in love," Ezra rushed quickly, "Over the time we spent masquerading as husband and wife, we came to realise that it felt natural.....and when Annabelle had her money and it was the end of the deal, something between us continued. On a rash whim one night, I asked her to marry me. She said 'yes'. We were joined as man and wife the next day."

There was a certain flippancy in the man's tone, but Josiah could tell that it was far more important to him than he made out. For Ezra - who had come to them caring for himself and no one else - to have done something so unplanned and out of character.....It could only be love. All men were different creatures when it came to the softer emotions.

"So," Josiah asked, rising from his perch on the floor, "How did you arrive here as a free entity?"

"'Entity'?" Ezra asked, with a forced laugh, "It seems my extensive vocabulary is rubbing off on you."

"Ezra," Josiah said quietly, almost pleading with him not to stop now.

The gambler nodded, knowing what he wanted but unable to give it. He stood, twirling his hat in his fingers and planting it firmly on his head.

"A disagreement, Mr Sanchez. A difference of opinion in a business matter. I won't bore you with the tedious details."

There he was. The old Ezra. Not the man in hurt and sorrow who had bared his deepest soul for the last half hour, but the flippant, jovial fella who seemingly couldn't give a damn about the world and would just go on his own merry way. It saddened Josiah to see it, but at least he knew for certain now that it was all an act.

Ezra went to leave but Josiah asked the one question he had been dreading.

"Do you love her?"

He paused in the doorway, not looking back. Just down at his own fingers that twirled nervously together. How could he answer that?

"I don't know what love is," he admitted softly, "And who can really give me an answer? But I do know that I have never been happier before I met her or since we parted"

Josiah nodded, surprised in a way at the wisdom in the other man's words. "Well, if you're interested I saw her going into the livery not half hour ago. Might be still there."

Ezra turned to him with a rueful smile, "I don't believe the lady wishes my company. She seems to find it most abhorrent."

"Ezra," Josiah said with a fond smile and a shake of his head, "For an educated man, you sure are a fool at times."