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Two days later Maude Standish sits at the poker table frequented most often by her son and his friends in her near empty Tavern. Sitting at the bar nursing a drink is a middle aged man with the look of a hard drinker, the kind that can start not much after noon (which it is) and will. Behind the bar is Inez Recillos, the woman Ezra hired after she'd purchased the complacency of his first barkeep, and who she'd kept on after procuring the Tavern for her own. She was a treasure, Miss Inez; a woman with brains and talent and grit enough to run a bar on the western frontier, a notable beauty with fortitude enough to withstand the constant advances of her patrons, not to mention the advances of a certain Peacekeeper.
But she was still a woman. Being of the same sort as her employee, and not just the same sex, Maude had, perhaps, a fair understanding of the weak spot of one such as she, and if Buck Wilmington and Vin Tanner don't number on that list, Ezra P. Standish certainly does.
Maybe because he'd hired her when she'd been at her lowest, weakest point, when she'd been at her most vulnerable, perhaps because he'd never made her feel lower or weaker or vulnerable, and almost certainly because he is himself.
In any case Maude is very much aware that if the woman is grateful for her continued employment, proud of the trust and respect her employer has given her, no small amount of her loyalty lies with her former employer, and, much as she might like his mother, if made to stand she would stand with the three Maude can point to and the one she's not quite certain of.
If this makes for a strain on the quite atmosphere of the Tavern the old hand at the bar gives no notice and Maude supposes that he wouldn't.
She has spent the last two days thinking. Thinking and observing the six Peacekeepers not laid up in Nathan's clinic, and wondering.
She has visited Four Corners many times in the past, or, at least, often enough to have seen it in times of chaos and trial, as well as its days of calm and comfort, and feels this allows her some small understanding of what is normal for the town and its guardians. When she'd arrived, mere hours after Ezra had been wounded and just a short time before Nathan had finished his work, the people of the town had been visibly tense and eerily quiet. No children laughed, no women clucked and giggled and sighed, no men stood outside the general store discussing whatever it was frontier men gossiped about. In fact very few people had been on the streets at all, those who obviously couldn't avoid it, and those few went about their business with silence and speed.
Of course the streets hadn't empty because life must and does go on, but they might as well have been.
She'd stepped off the coach, surprised that not one of the gunslingers was there to greet the stage, as she knew was their habit, and thought," This is a town holding its breath, afraid to move or breathe, trying frantically to hold on to this moment. They know they're utterly unprepared for what might come next. What probably will come next."
Well, Ezra survived the surgery, and at that very moment lay in Nathan's clinic listening to young J.D. read to him from one of the ever-popular dime novels. And though she would never have laid a bet on it, she didn't doubt he was enjoying his time with the young sheriff, more because of J.D. himself than the drivel the boy was reading to him, a fact for which she thought she should be thankful, but wasn't sure if she was.
Yes, Ezra had survived, the town released its breath, the moment passed, and everybody moved on.
But not everybody.
It isn't always Nathan, yet there is at least one of the Peacekeepers with Ezra during anytime of the day and most of the night. And when they weren't with him their minds were always turned toward him. When they came to the saloon they commandeered the very table she now occupied, but, to the last man, angled their bodies just so, most naturally and in such a way that has convinced her they are unaware of it, until they faced the direction of the clinic. They did this when standing or sitting outside the Jail, the Church, the Boarding House, and, she supposes, anywhere else they happen to be. When they are on the street their eyes always drift to Nathan's place above the stable, and maybe they don't fix there, but they always drift back.
They didn't talk or joke with one another as she'd known them to do, weather they were on duty or off. She thought they might while sitting with her son, but she never caught them at it anywhere else.
They reminded her of the walking wounded, men who'd lost a limb or taken a great hurt, yet continued ahead. It was like watching someone trying to conceal an invisible limp, disturbing in ways she didn't understand, and, she realized, it scared the hell out of her.
The women, Mary Travis, Gloria Potter, Nettie and Casey Wells, Inez, she can at least understand. They don't walk with the same limp as the men, those five women who are, if anyone in town can claim to be, closest to the Peacekeepers, yet what they carried is a species of the same malady. If they don't care for Ezra personally, she's unsure as to where those women stand regarding her son, then they care about the men who obviously do, and she'd seen the worry in their eyes often enough to know what it is about.
Looking at the cards laid out before her she thinks about that. She's playing solitaire, something Ezra would've told his friends she did rarely and only when she needed to work out something far more important than her usual business, ( she could've further explained she only ever did when trying to work out any dilemma involving her son but no one ever asked and she never did) and she played with her own deck. The cards are worn and faded and much loved, the deck having been a gift from the man who would later become her son's father; whatever else she'd lost, including the man himself, she'd kept hold of his cards and his son.
She draws the Jack of Diamonds and places it over the Queen of Spades, considering that last thought with a cynic's eye.
Kept the man's son, had she?
It would seem not. It would seem, to both the mother's heart and the business woman's mind, that she's lost her son. Not to the town, or not mostly the town (there was an idea that it mattered only because of its occupants and she wouldn't dismiss it), but to a motley and unlikely group of gunslingers.
She hears the voice in the back of her mind that says she lost him long before this town and these men and she marks it, but she's listening to another voice, the one that's explaining to her how and why such a thing could happen.
And so Josiah finds her.
As he takes a seat across from her she has a brief and wistful wish that Larabee had come instead He, after all, is the reason her son is here, and she wants another chance to see what it is that drew Ezra in and now keeps him complacently standing by. Relief comes next. Josiah at least likes her and she knows he feels guilt for spending his money on her when he should've invested in Ezra's business. There will be no blame cast here, for which she is grateful. Chris Larabee, who was once a parent himself, does not and possibly cannot understand her. She thinks that Josiah will at least try.
From Larabee she wouldn't even receive that much.
The large man sits across form her, silent and patient. He's watched her for the last two days and knows she's ready to speak and will do so without his prompting.
He's not mistaken.
"I love my son, more, perhaps, than you would think, and I have always thought we were of a kind. Two sides of the same coin, as it were. I raised him the only way I knew how, and took care of him in the only way I found acceptable. When he was with me, he was often staying with relatives, I taught him what I knew and he was a fast learner," Maybe too fast, she can see that now, can almost feel his earnest need to please her," and he enjoyed much of it. He took every lesson to heart.," And wasn't that the bitter irony of it all? The damn bitter core of it? ," I thought that we were alike and now I see that I was wrong, that we became alike because my son thought it the surest and only way to my affections., "She paused. ," He was wrong Mr. Sanchez. My affections were never something he needed to earn. When I bought the Standish Tavern I told Ezra that I had a mother's advantage, that I'd know him better than anyone else, himself included, until he or I died... I was wrong. After thirty two years I have been made to realize that I don't know my son at all. That I've spent his life making the worst mistake any gambler could. That is to say sir, that I've been taking him at face value."
She waits and still Josiah says nothing.
"I don't know my son at all, do I Mr. Sanchez?"
How is he to answer that? Lord, there are times he thinks Ezra doesn't know who he is and knows this isn't far from the truth. He answers the only way he feels, in truth, that he can, "Does anybody know him? Sometimes, there are some things, I think I know of him, but he almost always surprises me. A thousand times or more I've seen him do things that set me worrying after his soul, yet time and time again I've watched him step into a blow or bullet for another. I've seen him risk his life and wealth and pride for the sake of others, most often for stranger's he'll never see again, and with precious little thanks or appreciation."
"I would never expect that of him, nor can I say that I approve. , "It is better, she feels, to be honest now. She has ever made it clear that she believes Ezra should have long since moved on.
Josiah's nodding, as if he'd expected these words and given which of the seven she's speaking with that's probably true. He adds, "I believe, "it's obvious his words are being chosen with deliberate care now, "that though he's been resigned to his actions he never expected them, nor does he approve of his bouts of honest courage and selflessness. Indeed, I do believe he's positively disgusted with them, or was, to begin with at any rate."
She pulls an Ace from the deck in her hands, crowns one of her Kings with it ,"Yet he persisted, persists still."
"Against his good sense and his will. To begin with."
"To begin with.," Her eyes scan the barroom and she is thinking of her son's past, her past. She should have been there for him more. Would've been, had their life been different. ," You keep saying that Mr. Sanchez, to begin with. Have things changed then? Has he changed?"
Josiah's not so sure he has. Something tells him that the "new" Ezra was there all along, hidden behind his selfish indifference, his obviously superior vocabulary. True, he'd stayed on only because Judge Travis would've had him behind bars at one point otherwise. But the deal had been for a month and a month only. Thirty days and he was free to do as he would. Two years past that month had come and gone, yet here he remained. His reply, when it comes, is decidedly ambiguous," Situations and circumstances dictate our actions and character, as they change so do we all."
Only later does she not how the ex-preacher's eyes shift to some point behind her . "Why, if you love your son, did you purposely drive his business, the only God-damn thing he cared bout, into the ground?"
The question, and the deep menace behind it, comes so unexpectedly that she nearly drops the deck in her hand, she's so surprised. She had neither heard nor seen Larabee arrive, was unaware of his presence at her back, and now wonders how much he has heard and what conclusions he might draw from it.
Josiah, she realizes, feeling something akin to betrayal, must have known he was there. Could not but have seen him.
Rising to her feet and turning to face the gunslinger she abandons the candor she would've used with Josiah, yet does not fully lie to the man, "It was Business Mr. Larabee, nothing else."
He watches her, just watches her, and she ponders that this man should frighten her as easily as he does, even as she recalls her earlier wistful thought. She should, she concludes, show far more caution in her requests.
She hears herself adding, somewhat defensively, "My son is very much aware of my motives."
He's not satisfied with that; she knows this as a certainty. Not for the first time it occurs to her that if anyone in this town has the ability to bar her from Ezra's presence, it is this very volatile man before her. Yes, Josiah, Nathan and J.D. would feel wretched for turning her away, but turn her they would.
What does her son mean to this man to earn not only his respect but this fiercely protective loyalty as well?
"What kind of mother, "She cannot know that this question comes more from Buck and Vin than from himself, but he's thinking of Sarah and how she was with Adam as he asks, "how could any mother do that to her son?"
"It was a game Mister Larabee, one not so different from those we've always played. Eazra was aware of the stakes."
"You are a selfish, heartless, bitch."
She feels, actually feels, herself blanch, his words cutting right to the core of her. Selfish she may be, and perhaps some do consider her something of a bitch, but heartless? How can he call her heartless now, when all she can feel is the throbbing ache of the thing, knowing Ezra could've died, could still die, knowing that he had not called for her but for this man and the others while in his delirium, knowing that she might well lose her son for good to this place and these people?
Her shock and hurt must show on her face, distantly, as if standing a full mile away, she can see Josiah react to the cruel words, see him readying himself for her defense. Apparently so does Larabee, who shoots the ex-preacher as hard look, face implacable, that speaks volumes.
Another amazing and disconcerting thing about these men, Ezra included, is the silence in which they communicate. She thinks it is stronger between certain people, yet they can all of them say to each other in one look what others can barely express with spoken words. Suddenly she feels very sorry for the women who will one day find themselves tied to these men. How awful it would be to stand on the edge of that silence, never to break through.
Josiah sees the look in Chris's eyes, reads the message, Stay and watch and tell the whole damn town for all I care, but sit down and shut up if you do. You helped her, you're supposed to be his friend and you helped her.
The strain between the three people who betrayed Ezra and those who did not has yet to become openly apparent, yet it, and the guilt, are there, as faithful as any hound had ever been. Like an open wound that's just been poked with a stick it lances through him, locking his jaw against words of defense and he subsides in its wake.
Josiah is retreating and Maude does not blame him for it. Whatever has passed between the two men certainly had nothing to do with understanding or forgiveness and she is not a woman to let men fight her battles. She rallies her wits and prepares to reply, but is cut off when Larabee continues.
"All I've ever seen you do is cause trouble and pain. Every time you come around you pick at him, pick at us and then go on your merry way. , " he takes a step forward, his face fierce enough that she must force herself not to flinch away, "That's the last God-damn time you do though! The last time you use us against each other and the last time, the last FUCKING TIME you hurt him!!"
"Mister Larabee..."
"How the hell can you sit here talking about how much you love him?! You took the only thing he'd ever tried for, honestly tried for, and not only did you destroy it, but then you took it for yourself! , "His face twisted into the ugliest sneer she'd ever seen, "Love him any more and you'll probably kill him."
Her eyes narrow and she draws herself up, "Ezra and I have often owned competing enterprises, why should I have believed this to be any different? Not once did he indicate to me such a venture might hold some pride of place for him. ," She feels something that is very close to shame for the lie but discards it without further notice.
"How many times before this, "his hand, she notes with some worry, is actually resting on the butt of his gun now, his voice low and hateful, "did he ask you, all but beg you, not to interfere? Not to compete with him? How many times has he asked you for any damn thing, let alone that?"
She feels herself crack, feels something in her break, most likely it's her temper, "I didn't know! I thought it was just the same old game, friendly competition to keep one another on out toes. He used his own money though! He's supposed to know better than that! It's almost impossible to walk away when it's your money! He knows that! And damn your hide the Ezra I know wouldn't have done it! The Ezra I know would've been gone from this town well over a year ago! He most certainly would not be throwing himself in front of bullets or knives or what-have-you and making almost weekly visits to the local surgeon! He wouldn't bother earning you trust for the sake of being trusted, and he most definitely wouldn't give a damn what you or anybody else in this place thought of him!"
And, she almost misses the thought as it creeps forward, the Ezra I know never said anything to me about owning his own tavern. Why should he tell you people that he never tells me?
"Bullshit."
She blinks at him, mentally grabbing for the fraying strand of her composure, "I beg your pardon?"
"You knew something was different with him, knew enough to come running to spout your disapproval at him. I know what he told you, but he lied and you're a smart lady., "his voice is ripe with contempt and distaste, "How long before you realized not only was he lying to you, but had no intention of doing what you wanted him to? How many weeks or months to realize that he wasn't moving on and he sure as shit wasn't getting any richer where he was? Now I'd bet, "she hadn't thought it possible but his face grows even colder, his eyes darker, harder, "you came to the conclusion that he liked it here, might intend to stay here, working for a paltry thirty bucks a month for as long as he could, right about the time you came back to town. Just after he'd bought the Tavern."
For the most part she has told him the truth thus far, perhaps Ezra hadn't owned a business before the Tavern and perhaps she should've known the importance of that, but she did not and acted as she would have in any case. Yet, in her defense, she had not known that he'd used his own money, hadn't begun to realize how terribly important this one business was to him, and by the time she had it was too late. By then she'd won and the only thing to do was move ahead. Now he is accusing her of striking out to punish her son, to wound him for not doing as she wished, and while she willing admits to carrying the game too far, she does not believe that anger and punishment were a part of it. No, she did not and does not want Ezra to remain in this town, squandering himself and his talents, spilling his blood for people who look down on him easily enough, and maybe the leveling of his business had possessed something of this, but her intent had never been to harm.
She didn't know, she wants to protest once again. She didn't know.
Less than two heartbeats have passed and Larabee is facing her now with his near-hatred unveiled. It emanates from him in almost visible waves and she is not surprised to feel herself wilt under the force of it. Josiah, she notices from the corner of her eye, flinches away from what he sees in his leader. She wonders if he feels he should be included in this regard.
When he speaks there is something very dangerous in his voice, something she can't, or won't, name, but realizes, just the same, that what he now says takes him very close to hating her indeed. She is not surprised, the simple, unquestioning way in which he states it very nearly makes her hate herself. , "You broke him lady."
No, she thinks, surely he overstates the matter. It couldn't possibly have meant so much...
"You broke him and we, "he includes Josiah in his regard as he corrects himself, "Some of us were left to pick up the pieces hoping they'd fit together. You're not doing it again."
Why isn't she speaking? , she wonders, Why does she not open her mouth and defend herself against these horrible accusations? Surely there must be something...Ezra is not so frail as that, he would've accepted the situation...He must've realized that she didn't know, that she hadn't meant too... There has to be something she can say.
Anything.
Yet there is not and she does not.
She remembers that he told Mary Travis about the hidden compartment in her valise, remembers that she'd felt only a twinge of betrayal but a great deal of annoyance. She'd thought in that moment, as he watched the proceeds with the relishing, gleeful smile, that he was taking his upset about the loss of the Standish Tavern too far. Then he'd insisted J.D. imprison her, gaily ignoring her protests, laughing and mocking all the while, and she'd thought he was being spiteful and downright petty.
And isn't that, she wonders, exactly what Larabee thinks of her, only on a much greater scale?
"Mister Larabee, "Her composure is now very frail indeed and a distant part of her contemplates that oddity; if it does not fail her now it will be a very close thing indeed. Once that was a rare occurrence, yet it grows increasingly common with her visits to this place. , "you clearly don't understand..."
Again he cuts her off, she's not sure that she disapproves, even as she spoke she'd been uncertain of what she intended to say, "I don't understand, I don't want to understand, and I'm not going to try. I don't care about you. I care about Ezra .," Something in his expression shifts, she can see the decision as he makes it, "Leave."
She has no illusions as to his meaning and in the face of this abrupt ultimatum her composure fades. It is gone and she doesn't care. She is staring at Larabee, pale, wide-eyed, and disbelieving and she doesn't care, "Mister Larabee you cannot expect me to leave while Ezra lies up in that clinic, his very life no more certain than a coin toss!"
"You're presence hasn't done him any good so far, why should that change now?"
"I can't leave him!"
"That's a first."
There is a loud, sharp, crack. Not, she thinks, the sound of breaking glass and far too quiet to be a gunshot. What then?
For several seconds nobody moves and her brain races to catch up with her motor skills. She feels her hand tingling, sees the ugly welt blossoming on Larabee's face.
Oh. Lord.
Whatever his response might be he is forestalled when the young Sheriff breaks through the batwing doors, coming to a halt not far from them. It is obvious he has run here, and her heart leaps to her throat. J.D. should still be sitting with Ezra. Something must be wrong.
But no, that distant part of her reasons, he did not run to Nathan as he would if something were wrong.
Still J.D.'s words comfort her but little, "Chris, Ezra says he needs to talk to you."
Even with several feet between them she can see the worry and guilt in his young face and she is not blind to the condemnation in the look Larabee sends him. She realizes, in a startling flash, that the boy is terrified Ezra will tell Chris it's done, that he's leaving the town and leaving them as soon as he can ride. And, when the boy merely flushes at Larabee's look, that he, Nathan and Josiah with him no doubt, will shoulder the blame if this happens.
They hold themselves no less responsible than the others hold her.
When he doesn't look at her again, merely stalks out of the saloon and , presumably, to the clinic she understands that Chris is no less disturbed by the prospect of Ezra's departure, only he's grown used to loss in his life and accepts the prospect as J.D. accepts the blame.
Author's Note: Okay, even I admit that's probably a bit over the top, at the very least it's incredibly sappy. My only means of defense is the fact that I wrote it very late one night. As excuses go, it's certainly not the best. And I'm afraid that the sap does continue in the next chapter, though I'll do my best to moderate it. Also I just want to explain that much of this revolves around something I don't think the show dealt with as well as it might have. I mean, come on, the man's been saving up and actually trying to do something legitimate and then not only his mother but three people who are supposed to be his friends just through his efforts to the dogs. Okay, so J.D. was suckered, and Josiah is besotted and we all know nobody thinks straight in that situation, but Nathan seemed not only aware of being in the wrong, but guilty enough that he didn't want to face Ezra. Then after the episode the only thing even approaching a repercussion comes when Ezra puts Maude in Jail. If we're to believe they're as close as has been implied then we have to believe that the actions and reactions of the Peacekeepers and those around them to the events in sins of the past went a bit deeper than the show allowed. Anyway, this is set some month after the end of the show, and I apologize for being as long winded as I know I have. If you've gotten this far thanks for putting up with it.
Two days later Maude Standish sits at the poker table frequented most often by her son and his friends in her near empty Tavern. Sitting at the bar nursing a drink is a middle aged man with the look of a hard drinker, the kind that can start not much after noon (which it is) and will. Behind the bar is Inez Recillos, the woman Ezra hired after she'd purchased the complacency of his first barkeep, and who she'd kept on after procuring the Tavern for her own. She was a treasure, Miss Inez; a woman with brains and talent and grit enough to run a bar on the western frontier, a notable beauty with fortitude enough to withstand the constant advances of her patrons, not to mention the advances of a certain Peacekeeper.
But she was still a woman. Being of the same sort as her employee, and not just the same sex, Maude had, perhaps, a fair understanding of the weak spot of one such as she, and if Buck Wilmington and Vin Tanner don't number on that list, Ezra P. Standish certainly does.
Maybe because he'd hired her when she'd been at her lowest, weakest point, when she'd been at her most vulnerable, perhaps because he'd never made her feel lower or weaker or vulnerable, and almost certainly because he is himself.
In any case Maude is very much aware that if the woman is grateful for her continued employment, proud of the trust and respect her employer has given her, no small amount of her loyalty lies with her former employer, and, much as she might like his mother, if made to stand she would stand with the three Maude can point to and the one she's not quite certain of.
If this makes for a strain on the quite atmosphere of the Tavern the old hand at the bar gives no notice and Maude supposes that he wouldn't.
She has spent the last two days thinking. Thinking and observing the six Peacekeepers not laid up in Nathan's clinic, and wondering.
She has visited Four Corners many times in the past, or, at least, often enough to have seen it in times of chaos and trial, as well as its days of calm and comfort, and feels this allows her some small understanding of what is normal for the town and its guardians. When she'd arrived, mere hours after Ezra had been wounded and just a short time before Nathan had finished his work, the people of the town had been visibly tense and eerily quiet. No children laughed, no women clucked and giggled and sighed, no men stood outside the general store discussing whatever it was frontier men gossiped about. In fact very few people had been on the streets at all, those who obviously couldn't avoid it, and those few went about their business with silence and speed.
Of course the streets hadn't empty because life must and does go on, but they might as well have been.
She'd stepped off the coach, surprised that not one of the gunslingers was there to greet the stage, as she knew was their habit, and thought," This is a town holding its breath, afraid to move or breathe, trying frantically to hold on to this moment. They know they're utterly unprepared for what might come next. What probably will come next."
Well, Ezra survived the surgery, and at that very moment lay in Nathan's clinic listening to young J.D. read to him from one of the ever-popular dime novels. And though she would never have laid a bet on it, she didn't doubt he was enjoying his time with the young sheriff, more because of J.D. himself than the drivel the boy was reading to him, a fact for which she thought she should be thankful, but wasn't sure if she was.
Yes, Ezra had survived, the town released its breath, the moment passed, and everybody moved on.
But not everybody.
It isn't always Nathan, yet there is at least one of the Peacekeepers with Ezra during anytime of the day and most of the night. And when they weren't with him their minds were always turned toward him. When they came to the saloon they commandeered the very table she now occupied, but, to the last man, angled their bodies just so, most naturally and in such a way that has convinced her they are unaware of it, until they faced the direction of the clinic. They did this when standing or sitting outside the Jail, the Church, the Boarding House, and, she supposes, anywhere else they happen to be. When they are on the street their eyes always drift to Nathan's place above the stable, and maybe they don't fix there, but they always drift back.
They didn't talk or joke with one another as she'd known them to do, weather they were on duty or off. She thought they might while sitting with her son, but she never caught them at it anywhere else.
They reminded her of the walking wounded, men who'd lost a limb or taken a great hurt, yet continued ahead. It was like watching someone trying to conceal an invisible limp, disturbing in ways she didn't understand, and, she realized, it scared the hell out of her.
The women, Mary Travis, Gloria Potter, Nettie and Casey Wells, Inez, she can at least understand. They don't walk with the same limp as the men, those five women who are, if anyone in town can claim to be, closest to the Peacekeepers, yet what they carried is a species of the same malady. If they don't care for Ezra personally, she's unsure as to where those women stand regarding her son, then they care about the men who obviously do, and she'd seen the worry in their eyes often enough to know what it is about.
Looking at the cards laid out before her she thinks about that. She's playing solitaire, something Ezra would've told his friends she did rarely and only when she needed to work out something far more important than her usual business, ( she could've further explained she only ever did when trying to work out any dilemma involving her son but no one ever asked and she never did) and she played with her own deck. The cards are worn and faded and much loved, the deck having been a gift from the man who would later become her son's father; whatever else she'd lost, including the man himself, she'd kept hold of his cards and his son.
She draws the Jack of Diamonds and places it over the Queen of Spades, considering that last thought with a cynic's eye.
Kept the man's son, had she?
It would seem not. It would seem, to both the mother's heart and the business woman's mind, that she's lost her son. Not to the town, or not mostly the town (there was an idea that it mattered only because of its occupants and she wouldn't dismiss it), but to a motley and unlikely group of gunslingers.
She hears the voice in the back of her mind that says she lost him long before this town and these men and she marks it, but she's listening to another voice, the one that's explaining to her how and why such a thing could happen.
And so Josiah finds her.
As he takes a seat across from her she has a brief and wistful wish that Larabee had come instead He, after all, is the reason her son is here, and she wants another chance to see what it is that drew Ezra in and now keeps him complacently standing by. Relief comes next. Josiah at least likes her and she knows he feels guilt for spending his money on her when he should've invested in Ezra's business. There will be no blame cast here, for which she is grateful. Chris Larabee, who was once a parent himself, does not and possibly cannot understand her. She thinks that Josiah will at least try.
From Larabee she wouldn't even receive that much.
The large man sits across form her, silent and patient. He's watched her for the last two days and knows she's ready to speak and will do so without his prompting.
He's not mistaken.
"I love my son, more, perhaps, than you would think, and I have always thought we were of a kind. Two sides of the same coin, as it were. I raised him the only way I knew how, and took care of him in the only way I found acceptable. When he was with me, he was often staying with relatives, I taught him what I knew and he was a fast learner," Maybe too fast, she can see that now, can almost feel his earnest need to please her," and he enjoyed much of it. He took every lesson to heart.," And wasn't that the bitter irony of it all? The damn bitter core of it? ," I thought that we were alike and now I see that I was wrong, that we became alike because my son thought it the surest and only way to my affections., "She paused. ," He was wrong Mr. Sanchez. My affections were never something he needed to earn. When I bought the Standish Tavern I told Ezra that I had a mother's advantage, that I'd know him better than anyone else, himself included, until he or I died... I was wrong. After thirty two years I have been made to realize that I don't know my son at all. That I've spent his life making the worst mistake any gambler could. That is to say sir, that I've been taking him at face value."
She waits and still Josiah says nothing.
"I don't know my son at all, do I Mr. Sanchez?"
How is he to answer that? Lord, there are times he thinks Ezra doesn't know who he is and knows this isn't far from the truth. He answers the only way he feels, in truth, that he can, "Does anybody know him? Sometimes, there are some things, I think I know of him, but he almost always surprises me. A thousand times or more I've seen him do things that set me worrying after his soul, yet time and time again I've watched him step into a blow or bullet for another. I've seen him risk his life and wealth and pride for the sake of others, most often for stranger's he'll never see again, and with precious little thanks or appreciation."
"I would never expect that of him, nor can I say that I approve. , "It is better, she feels, to be honest now. She has ever made it clear that she believes Ezra should have long since moved on.
Josiah's nodding, as if he'd expected these words and given which of the seven she's speaking with that's probably true. He adds, "I believe, "it's obvious his words are being chosen with deliberate care now, "that though he's been resigned to his actions he never expected them, nor does he approve of his bouts of honest courage and selflessness. Indeed, I do believe he's positively disgusted with them, or was, to begin with at any rate."
She pulls an Ace from the deck in her hands, crowns one of her Kings with it ,"Yet he persisted, persists still."
"Against his good sense and his will. To begin with."
"To begin with.," Her eyes scan the barroom and she is thinking of her son's past, her past. She should have been there for him more. Would've been, had their life been different. ," You keep saying that Mr. Sanchez, to begin with. Have things changed then? Has he changed?"
Josiah's not so sure he has. Something tells him that the "new" Ezra was there all along, hidden behind his selfish indifference, his obviously superior vocabulary. True, he'd stayed on only because Judge Travis would've had him behind bars at one point otherwise. But the deal had been for a month and a month only. Thirty days and he was free to do as he would. Two years past that month had come and gone, yet here he remained. His reply, when it comes, is decidedly ambiguous," Situations and circumstances dictate our actions and character, as they change so do we all."
Only later does she not how the ex-preacher's eyes shift to some point behind her . "Why, if you love your son, did you purposely drive his business, the only God-damn thing he cared bout, into the ground?"
The question, and the deep menace behind it, comes so unexpectedly that she nearly drops the deck in her hand, she's so surprised. She had neither heard nor seen Larabee arrive, was unaware of his presence at her back, and now wonders how much he has heard and what conclusions he might draw from it.
Josiah, she realizes, feeling something akin to betrayal, must have known he was there. Could not but have seen him.
Rising to her feet and turning to face the gunslinger she abandons the candor she would've used with Josiah, yet does not fully lie to the man, "It was Business Mr. Larabee, nothing else."
He watches her, just watches her, and she ponders that this man should frighten her as easily as he does, even as she recalls her earlier wistful thought. She should, she concludes, show far more caution in her requests.
She hears herself adding, somewhat defensively, "My son is very much aware of my motives."
He's not satisfied with that; she knows this as a certainty. Not for the first time it occurs to her that if anyone in this town has the ability to bar her from Ezra's presence, it is this very volatile man before her. Yes, Josiah, Nathan and J.D. would feel wretched for turning her away, but turn her they would.
What does her son mean to this man to earn not only his respect but this fiercely protective loyalty as well?
"What kind of mother, "She cannot know that this question comes more from Buck and Vin than from himself, but he's thinking of Sarah and how she was with Adam as he asks, "how could any mother do that to her son?"
"It was a game Mister Larabee, one not so different from those we've always played. Eazra was aware of the stakes."
"You are a selfish, heartless, bitch."
She feels, actually feels, herself blanch, his words cutting right to the core of her. Selfish she may be, and perhaps some do consider her something of a bitch, but heartless? How can he call her heartless now, when all she can feel is the throbbing ache of the thing, knowing Ezra could've died, could still die, knowing that he had not called for her but for this man and the others while in his delirium, knowing that she might well lose her son for good to this place and these people?
Her shock and hurt must show on her face, distantly, as if standing a full mile away, she can see Josiah react to the cruel words, see him readying himself for her defense. Apparently so does Larabee, who shoots the ex-preacher as hard look, face implacable, that speaks volumes.
Another amazing and disconcerting thing about these men, Ezra included, is the silence in which they communicate. She thinks it is stronger between certain people, yet they can all of them say to each other in one look what others can barely express with spoken words. Suddenly she feels very sorry for the women who will one day find themselves tied to these men. How awful it would be to stand on the edge of that silence, never to break through.
Josiah sees the look in Chris's eyes, reads the message, Stay and watch and tell the whole damn town for all I care, but sit down and shut up if you do. You helped her, you're supposed to be his friend and you helped her.
The strain between the three people who betrayed Ezra and those who did not has yet to become openly apparent, yet it, and the guilt, are there, as faithful as any hound had ever been. Like an open wound that's just been poked with a stick it lances through him, locking his jaw against words of defense and he subsides in its wake.
Josiah is retreating and Maude does not blame him for it. Whatever has passed between the two men certainly had nothing to do with understanding or forgiveness and she is not a woman to let men fight her battles. She rallies her wits and prepares to reply, but is cut off when Larabee continues.
"All I've ever seen you do is cause trouble and pain. Every time you come around you pick at him, pick at us and then go on your merry way. , " he takes a step forward, his face fierce enough that she must force herself not to flinch away, "That's the last God-damn time you do though! The last time you use us against each other and the last time, the last FUCKING TIME you hurt him!!"
"Mister Larabee..."
"How the hell can you sit here talking about how much you love him?! You took the only thing he'd ever tried for, honestly tried for, and not only did you destroy it, but then you took it for yourself! , "His face twisted into the ugliest sneer she'd ever seen, "Love him any more and you'll probably kill him."
Her eyes narrow and she draws herself up, "Ezra and I have often owned competing enterprises, why should I have believed this to be any different? Not once did he indicate to me such a venture might hold some pride of place for him. ," She feels something that is very close to shame for the lie but discards it without further notice.
"How many times before this, "his hand, she notes with some worry, is actually resting on the butt of his gun now, his voice low and hateful, "did he ask you, all but beg you, not to interfere? Not to compete with him? How many times has he asked you for any damn thing, let alone that?"
She feels herself crack, feels something in her break, most likely it's her temper, "I didn't know! I thought it was just the same old game, friendly competition to keep one another on out toes. He used his own money though! He's supposed to know better than that! It's almost impossible to walk away when it's your money! He knows that! And damn your hide the Ezra I know wouldn't have done it! The Ezra I know would've been gone from this town well over a year ago! He most certainly would not be throwing himself in front of bullets or knives or what-have-you and making almost weekly visits to the local surgeon! He wouldn't bother earning you trust for the sake of being trusted, and he most definitely wouldn't give a damn what you or anybody else in this place thought of him!"
And, she almost misses the thought as it creeps forward, the Ezra I know never said anything to me about owning his own tavern. Why should he tell you people that he never tells me?
"Bullshit."
She blinks at him, mentally grabbing for the fraying strand of her composure, "I beg your pardon?"
"You knew something was different with him, knew enough to come running to spout your disapproval at him. I know what he told you, but he lied and you're a smart lady., "his voice is ripe with contempt and distaste, "How long before you realized not only was he lying to you, but had no intention of doing what you wanted him to? How many weeks or months to realize that he wasn't moving on and he sure as shit wasn't getting any richer where he was? Now I'd bet, "she hadn't thought it possible but his face grows even colder, his eyes darker, harder, "you came to the conclusion that he liked it here, might intend to stay here, working for a paltry thirty bucks a month for as long as he could, right about the time you came back to town. Just after he'd bought the Tavern."
For the most part she has told him the truth thus far, perhaps Ezra hadn't owned a business before the Tavern and perhaps she should've known the importance of that, but she did not and acted as she would have in any case. Yet, in her defense, she had not known that he'd used his own money, hadn't begun to realize how terribly important this one business was to him, and by the time she had it was too late. By then she'd won and the only thing to do was move ahead. Now he is accusing her of striking out to punish her son, to wound him for not doing as she wished, and while she willing admits to carrying the game too far, she does not believe that anger and punishment were a part of it. No, she did not and does not want Ezra to remain in this town, squandering himself and his talents, spilling his blood for people who look down on him easily enough, and maybe the leveling of his business had possessed something of this, but her intent had never been to harm.
She didn't know, she wants to protest once again. She didn't know.
Less than two heartbeats have passed and Larabee is facing her now with his near-hatred unveiled. It emanates from him in almost visible waves and she is not surprised to feel herself wilt under the force of it. Josiah, she notices from the corner of her eye, flinches away from what he sees in his leader. She wonders if he feels he should be included in this regard.
When he speaks there is something very dangerous in his voice, something she can't, or won't, name, but realizes, just the same, that what he now says takes him very close to hating her indeed. She is not surprised, the simple, unquestioning way in which he states it very nearly makes her hate herself. , "You broke him lady."
No, she thinks, surely he overstates the matter. It couldn't possibly have meant so much...
"You broke him and we, "he includes Josiah in his regard as he corrects himself, "Some of us were left to pick up the pieces hoping they'd fit together. You're not doing it again."
Why isn't she speaking? , she wonders, Why does she not open her mouth and defend herself against these horrible accusations? Surely there must be something...Ezra is not so frail as that, he would've accepted the situation...He must've realized that she didn't know, that she hadn't meant too... There has to be something she can say.
Anything.
Yet there is not and she does not.
She remembers that he told Mary Travis about the hidden compartment in her valise, remembers that she'd felt only a twinge of betrayal but a great deal of annoyance. She'd thought in that moment, as he watched the proceeds with the relishing, gleeful smile, that he was taking his upset about the loss of the Standish Tavern too far. Then he'd insisted J.D. imprison her, gaily ignoring her protests, laughing and mocking all the while, and she'd thought he was being spiteful and downright petty.
And isn't that, she wonders, exactly what Larabee thinks of her, only on a much greater scale?
"Mister Larabee, "Her composure is now very frail indeed and a distant part of her contemplates that oddity; if it does not fail her now it will be a very close thing indeed. Once that was a rare occurrence, yet it grows increasingly common with her visits to this place. , "you clearly don't understand..."
Again he cuts her off, she's not sure that she disapproves, even as she spoke she'd been uncertain of what she intended to say, "I don't understand, I don't want to understand, and I'm not going to try. I don't care about you. I care about Ezra .," Something in his expression shifts, she can see the decision as he makes it, "Leave."
She has no illusions as to his meaning and in the face of this abrupt ultimatum her composure fades. It is gone and she doesn't care. She is staring at Larabee, pale, wide-eyed, and disbelieving and she doesn't care, "Mister Larabee you cannot expect me to leave while Ezra lies up in that clinic, his very life no more certain than a coin toss!"
"You're presence hasn't done him any good so far, why should that change now?"
"I can't leave him!"
"That's a first."
There is a loud, sharp, crack. Not, she thinks, the sound of breaking glass and far too quiet to be a gunshot. What then?
For several seconds nobody moves and her brain races to catch up with her motor skills. She feels her hand tingling, sees the ugly welt blossoming on Larabee's face.
Oh. Lord.
Whatever his response might be he is forestalled when the young Sheriff breaks through the batwing doors, coming to a halt not far from them. It is obvious he has run here, and her heart leaps to her throat. J.D. should still be sitting with Ezra. Something must be wrong.
But no, that distant part of her reasons, he did not run to Nathan as he would if something were wrong.
Still J.D.'s words comfort her but little, "Chris, Ezra says he needs to talk to you."
Even with several feet between them she can see the worry and guilt in his young face and she is not blind to the condemnation in the look Larabee sends him. She realizes, in a startling flash, that the boy is terrified Ezra will tell Chris it's done, that he's leaving the town and leaving them as soon as he can ride. And, when the boy merely flushes at Larabee's look, that he, Nathan and Josiah with him no doubt, will shoulder the blame if this happens.
They hold themselves no less responsible than the others hold her.
When he doesn't look at her again, merely stalks out of the saloon and , presumably, to the clinic she understands that Chris is no less disturbed by the prospect of Ezra's departure, only he's grown used to loss in his life and accepts the prospect as J.D. accepts the blame.
Author's Note: Okay, even I admit that's probably a bit over the top, at the very least it's incredibly sappy. My only means of defense is the fact that I wrote it very late one night. As excuses go, it's certainly not the best. And I'm afraid that the sap does continue in the next chapter, though I'll do my best to moderate it. Also I just want to explain that much of this revolves around something I don't think the show dealt with as well as it might have. I mean, come on, the man's been saving up and actually trying to do something legitimate and then not only his mother but three people who are supposed to be his friends just through his efforts to the dogs. Okay, so J.D. was suckered, and Josiah is besotted and we all know nobody thinks straight in that situation, but Nathan seemed not only aware of being in the wrong, but guilty enough that he didn't want to face Ezra. Then after the episode the only thing even approaching a repercussion comes when Ezra puts Maude in Jail. If we're to believe they're as close as has been implied then we have to believe that the actions and reactions of the Peacekeepers and those around them to the events in sins of the past went a bit deeper than the show allowed. Anyway, this is set some month after the end of the show, and I apologize for being as long winded as I know I have. If you've gotten this far thanks for putting up with it.