Part Eight

Billy Travis peered nervously into the stable. He knew he shouldn't be here. His ma would be so cross with him if she realised what he was doing. How many times had she told him that horses were dangerous? Even his grandma, who could usually be relied on to allow him to do what he wanted, would never let him near one alone. But the other boys had dared him and he didn't want to be seen as a coward.

They were watching him from across the street, making sure he didn't head off anywhere else. His challenge was to sneak in and take the huge horse shoe which hung up at the back. Yosemite had told them that it once belonged to the horse of a great warrior, who had slain a hundred men single handed. The horse had apparently been twice the size of the tallest man. Billy wasn't sure whether or not he believed the story, but it still must've been a pretty big horse.

Slipping through the crack in the door, Billy held his breath. He didn't think anyone was in here, but if he was caught.....The horses snorted a little at the sound of movement, but they didn't seem particularly alarmed. A little boy was hardly a threat.

As he made his way across the soft hay floor, Billy made sure he kept a wide berth of Mr Standish's horse. He had seen even the large and tough Yosemite have problems with it. Truth be know, Billy was quite scared of the animal. Fortunately its stall was no where near where he needed to go. Vin's mount Peso was adjacent to the rear, and that animal was far more docile.

Tip-toeing quickly across, he climbed on top of an up turned trough, having to stretch to even get his fingertips on the horse shoe. If only he was a few inches taller....

He froze in his scrabbling when a noise, too loud in the relative peace of the livery, came to his ears.

Voices.

For a horrible moment he thought he was about to be discovered and he jolted in fright, managing to knock the horse shoe off of its hook. It landed on the floor with a soft thud, but Billy was more concerned with what he could hear. The voices were in fact coming from outside. The men must be in the alley behind the livery.

"You seen 'er?" one asked, in gruff tones.

The second man's voice was a little softer and more nervy. As if he was afraid of his companion. "Yep. She's staying in one of the hotel's - Virgina's."

"That stage she were on was heading to Ridge City, weren't it?" the first asked in a little confusion.

"Yeah. I'm guessing she's waiting for the next one to take her over."

"Where is she now?" he demanded.

"I dunno. I didn't wanna follow 'er around. Might draw too much attention." There was a small pause, and Billy guessed that the other man didn't look happy at this because the second one quickly added, "She won't be leaving 'fore tonight though. Stage don't come in for a couple a days yet."

"We don't have a couple a days," the first said in clear irritation - and maybe a little concern - "Boss wants her back now. We'll take 'er tonight. Do it quiet an' wit a bit o' luck, no one will notice till morning. We'll be long gone by then."

Inside the stable, Billy scrambled to get out. The horse shoe lay on the floor, forgotten.

--

Ezra glanced approvingly over Annabelle's form once more as she turned to signal the waitress, ordering a second bottle of wine. It was hardly a surprise Buck had taken a liking to her. Any sane man would.

And with her appearance this evening, he was rather glad the errant ladies man wasn't about. Who knows what he might do if he caught him looking at her.

The dress she had chosen was one he hadn't seen before. With his eye for fine haberdashery, Annabelle had often left it to him to pick out clothes for her. She had reasoned that he was the one who was going to be watching her wearing them - might as well get something he liked. Besides, she had never been very good at making frivolous decisions.

It seemed she had learnt a thing or two from him though, because the crimson dress, trimmed with black lace, was a remarkably fine ensemble. The colour complimented the darkness of her hair and eyes, whilst the cut was flattering over her figure.

Himself, he had gone for simple black this evening, with a silver/grey waistcoat and pinstripe shirt. A gentleman should always wear black when meeting with a lady, so as to be certain not to clash with what she wore. Also, he seemed to recall Annabelle once saying he looked very handsome in black - that might have influenced his decision just a little.

The waitress made her way over and Ezra flicked his gaze back from Annabelle to the table. He didn't want her to know how very alluring he found her.

He sighed in frustration at the thought. They always played these games. Neither wanted the other to seem to have too much influence or power over them. For him, it was because he was wary of being too attached to people. In general, he expected them to do others over and con them in any way they could. It was growing up with his mother that did it. If he brought into what Annabelle said too readily, and she turned out to be simply toying with him, it was far easier to walk away with dignity when you seemed to care less.

And her? Ezra guessed it was a spark of independence that she didn't care to lose. She had always stated firmly that she would never marry - a promise she had broken twice already. Her eldest brother, Jake, had fondly teased her about how she evidently couldn't live without a man. He'd only meant the comments in jest, but they had riled her, and she had argued that she was not reliant on men, their attentions, their money or their company in any way.

Ezra inwardly sighed again - it seemed they'd spent half of their time together trying to show the world that they would be content without one another. Yet, when that had come to a reality, the truth was rather different.

"A penny for them?" Annabelle asked, softly, breaking his reverie.

Ezra looked up, "Excuse me?"

"Your thoughts," she said, with a gentle smile, "Where were you just then?"

"Somewhere I would like to become a stranger to," he said, cryptically, before hastily changing the subject, "To be honest, my dear, I have a confession I feel compelled to make."

She looked at him curiously.

"My motives for asking you here tonight were not entirely laid out when the invitation was given. I hope you don't mind."

"It depends," she said, pausing to sip at her wine, "On what surprise you intend springing on me now."

He smiled, "Close your eyes."

"Ezra..." she warned, looking distinctly worried.

"Indulge me," he insisted.

She rolled her eyes, but did as he asked. Ezra reached into his pocket and retrieved something, holding it forward and tapping it on Annabelle's nose. She jumped a little and opened her eyes.

"Oh lord...." she whispered softly, taking the ring from Ezra's fingers, "I thought I'd lost this. Where did you find it?"

"It had somehow manoeuvred itself into my hat. Clonked me on the head quite nicely when I put it on."

Ezra watched as Annabelle turned the ring over in her hands again, evidently pleased to see it. It was the ring he had shown to Lester Banks - the one he had said he kept in hope of one day finding the future Mrs Standish. In fact, he just kept it in hope of one day finding the current Mrs Standish and returning it to her.

It had once belonged to his grandmother - a woman he had only met on two occasions, once when he was four and once at the age of twelve. The second time, she'd been on her death bed and Maude had taken him to see her out of some waning sense of duty. She certainly had no desire to see her mother herself. The two of them had never seen eye to eye.

He remembered the third night he was there, his grandmother had asked him to her room and had preceded to tell him the story of how she had met his grandfather. He had been the doctor treating her younger brother's broken leg. She spoke of how she bribed her brother with confectionary so that he would insist that his leg still needed treatment, allowing the doctor to continue in his visits.

At the end of the tale, she had produced the ring. Apparently his grandfather had brought it for her as a gift - a token of love. He had been killed in riding accident before he ever had the chance to give it to her. It had been found amongst his possessions after the funeral.

His grandmother had told him that the ring was meant to be given from one person to another as an act of love. A destiny it had not yet fulfilled. She had placed it in Ezra's hand, making him promise that when he found someone he loved, he would give it to her. She'd made him promise.

The next morning, she had died.

He had given Annabelle the ring as a gift on the very day they had made their finally transaction and he had repaid the money he'd owed her. At the time he believed he would likely never see her again. Their deal had come to an end and she was already packing. He had never told her what the ring represented, just that it was something for her to remember him by. And the fact that she agreed to wear it meant something to him. He had fulfilled his promise to his grandmother.

A day later he had done something rash. Proposed, as she was preparing to catch her train, rushed off her feet and only half listening to him. She'd turned so pale he thought she was going to faint for the first and only time he knew of. He'd gone to grab her by the shoulders to hold her steady, but before he had a chance, she'd pulled his face to hers and kissed him. He'd guessed that that was an affirmation.

That afternoon he'd brought her an emerald engagement ring and a gold wedding band. Ridiculous really since their engagement had lasted barely twenty-four hours. Still he wanted to do things properly.

Out of the three though, Annabelle always said she preferred the diamond. Which made him wonder if perhaps she did know what it represented after all.

"Thank you," she said, genuinely touched by the gesture, as she slipped it back onto her finger, "I can't believe you still have it."

Have it? He carried it in his pocket every day.

"Well, I was a little careless with it once," he admitted, deciding to ignore the sentiments that were weaving through his mind.

She looked at him in askance, and he squirmed a little uncomfortably.

"I'll tell you later."

--

Mary frowned as she paused outside Billy's door. He'd been fidgety since he'd come in from playing that afternoon. She'd scolded him at dinner for not being able to sit still. Now he was peering out the window, just resting his nose on the shelf, as if he was afraid someone would spot him there.

"What are you doing?"

Billy jumped, despite the softness of her voice.

"Nothing," he said hurriedly, quickly tucking himself under the covers again.

Mary stepped into the room and sat herself on his bed, stroking his hair softly. She gave him her 'do you think I'm going to believe that?' look.

"What's wrong?" she asked, "What were you looking at?"

Billy found himself torn between a wish to tell her what he'd heard and a wish not to get in trouble for being in the livery. He'd been weighing up the two all afternoon. As soon as he heard what those men had said, he had ignored the shouts of the other boys and had run straight home, meaning to tell her right away. But he had found her in a very irritable mood which was not being helped by the printing press misbehaving again. He was sure she'd been furious if she found out where he'd been and so he had kept quite. He was still worried though - what if something bad happened? It'd be his fault if he didn't tell.

"You can tell me," she said frowning deeply as she saw his uncertainty and concern. Something was obviously quite wrong.

He took a deep breath before deciding. Then he rushed straight into it.

"I think something bad's gonna happen."