~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
Emma, Mrs. Cahill, and Old Man Anderson (no, not the Colonel) all belong to me, but none of the others do.
I am making no profit from this story.
This is technically Nathan's story, though we find out a great deal about Ezra as well.
~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
When 23-year-old Ezra Standish stepped of the train in Atlanta, Georgia, he did not expect the first thing he would see to be a slave auction. Slave traders and plantation owners were everywhere, bartering over prices and bickering over the quality of the human goods they dealt.
The young man looked around in confusion. He had been told that his mother would meet him here, but it appeared she had either changed her mind or been delayed somehow. With a longsuffering sigh, he gathered up his baggage and headed to the nearby train depot to ask directions to lodgings for the night. He was directed to a clean and well-cared for, if rather small, boarding house owned by a widow named Mrs. Cahill.
As it turned out, the widow's husband had been killed some years earlier in a small outbreak of mumps and had left the house to her as his only legacy. Ezra was more than happy to take a room, as he had no idea how long his mother would be or if she would actually show up. He had slept on the street before but had not particularly enjoyed the experience and did not care to repeat it.
Once Ezra was settled in his room, he departed to explore the city he hadn't visited in many years. He received several odd looks, which didn't bother him unduly. He knew that most young men his age were soldiers fighting for the Confederacy, but Ezra had never been much of a fighter. He preferred wits to guns as weapons, besides which he wasn't entirely certain he agreed with the South beyond a certain loyalty to the land of his birth. For him, the practice of keeping slaves was abhorrent and the treatment said people received even more so. But, being a proud Georgian, he could not allow himself to join the Union, and so he fought not at all.
Ezra's wanderings brought him back to the auction, where he walked around more to see the sights than experience the buying and selling going on around him. He had grown up with slavery, and while he didn't particularly like it, it certainly wasn't foreign to him.
However, one piece of 'merchandise' caught his eyes and he found he couldn't tear his gaze away. Said item was a small boy, perhaps three or four years of age, with cocoa skin, glossy black curls, and eyes like pieces of charcoal. Those eyes met Ezra's and he was powerless to stop the quickening beat of his heart he felt as he looked into them. There was something ageless in those eyes, something that he recognized from the face he saw in the mirror every day.
It was called Dignity.
Ezra had developed it as a defense mechanism against the constant disappointments life had thrown his way. His mother had never been what you might call maternal; indeed in his early years he'd rarely seen her. At some of the houses he'd stayed at he'd been treated no better than the captive people he was now surrounded by. Dignity was something he'd clung to, the only thing his abusive uncles, stepfathers, and sometimes strangers couldn't take away from him. He suspected that this boy had developed it for the same reason.
Upon closer examination he realized that the child's clothes were ragged and he had no shoes. Though September in Georgia was not as cool as in some of the more northern states, there was still a distinct chill in the air and the boy had to be cold. Ezra shivered in sympathy.
He almost didn't recognize his own voice as it impulsively asked the hawker, "What can you tell me about that boy?"
"Ah, the gentleman has made an excellent choice. This slave is four years old. He has been trained as a house slave, but he is young and can be taught other tasks. He is healthy and strong, and is good for many years of work."
Ezra turned his expressionless face to the merchant. "Where is his family?"
The rather portly older man shrugged. "Sold away or dead, I expect. He came into my possession alone."
"What is his name?"
"His last master's name was Jackson, but you can call him whatever you want."
Ezra didn't show it, but the man's callousness sickened him. This was a child, for pity's sake, scarcely more than a baby, and no one even cared enough to learn his name. There was no excuse for such crude behavior. Well, Ezra could remedy that immediately. "How much?" The price named by the slave trader was nearly every penny Ezra currently had, but to him it was worth it. "Done."
The man grinned greedily and practically snatched the gold from Ezra's hand. "Get down here, boy!" He yanked the child rather roughly from the crate he stood on and held his shoulder with an unnecessarily tight grip. "You belong to this man, now, hear? You do whatever he says."
Ezra removed the man's hand with a painful move he'd learned while traveling in East Asia with one of Maude's many husbands. "You take your hands off that boy; he doesn't belong to you anymore."
The salesman winced and tried to weasel out of Ezra's hands. "Yes, sir, he's yours now. I am sorry."
Ezra dismissed him with a sniff and knelt to face the boy he'd just purchased. "What's your name?"
"Mama called me Nathan." He talked remarkably well for someone so young.
"Alright then, Nathan, my name is Ezra and that is how you may address me."
"Yes, sir, Master Ezra."
The young man regarded the child he now owned, wondering what on earth he was going to do with him. Another, even more frightening question popped into his mind. 'What will Mother say?'
Without even giving thought to the appearance it would present, Ezra took the small hand and began leading the child towards his boarding house. He was oblivious to the scandalized whispers and venomous stares sent his way by others on the street.
Ezra sat down on his bed, still staring at the small boy who was now standing uncertainly by the door. It was several minutes before he realized his scrutiny was scaring the child. "Nathan, come here." Nathan walked over slowly and stood next to his new master. "Do you know where your Mama and Daddy are?"
Ezra caught the telltale shimmer of tears in the soft brown eyes before Nathan dropped his head. "Mama went to Heaven and Daddy went away."
Well, that did it. Black or white, slave or free, Ezra had never been able to stand the sight of a child in pain. He reached out and gently drew the small body close to his own. "It's okay now. I'm here. I'll take care of you."
At first the skinny body was stiff in his arms, but then all of a sudden Nathan allowed himself to relax into the embrace and great, wracking sobs overtook his small frame. Ezra simply hugged him closer, whispering mindless words of reassurance and rubbing the heaving back in comforting circles.
This went on for nearly thirty minutes, and when Nathan finally pulled away his small face was damp but nowhere near as frightened. "You're not like the others."
"What others, Nathan?"
"The other men. They were mean. They hitted my Mama and made her go to Heaven."
Ezra sucked in a horrified breath. Sonofagun. Nathan's mother had been beaten to death, probably by her master or his overseer. "No one can ever hurt her...or you...again. I promise, and a Standish is a man of his word."
He was rewarded with a flash of brilliant white teeth as Nathan smiled his gratitude, and in that moment Ezra's frozen heart started to thaw.
~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
Maude Standish, aka Mary Simpson, aka Marge Smith, checked into the finest hotel Atlanta had to offer. While the hotel clerk was arranging for the care of her bags, she surreptitiously checked the register and recognized none of the names as a potential alias for her son. She scowled. He'd been told to meet her here. The thought that he's stay anywhere but the best never crossed her mind.
However, knowing in her devious heart that he'd never be able to resist spending time with her, she set off in search of her only child. She went first to the train depot, correctly assuming that he would have asked here about lodgings. The clerk behind the desk told her that he'd directed the young man she was describing to the Widow Cahill's boarding house.
She stalked off down the street, her striking green eyes flashing. A boarding house? Maude Standish's baby boy was staying in a common boarding house? What was he thinking? Didn't he even consider what such a thing would do to his reputation? To hers?
By the time she arrived she had worked up a right good anger. She entered the boarding house as if she were the Queen of England and it and all its residents were her subjects. "I demand to know the number of the room in which my son is staying!"
The Widow Cahill was unimpressed by Maude's superior carriage and her demanding tone. "Madame, I own this establishment and I don't give out information about my boarders without their permission."
Maude gave her the once-over and summarily dismissed her. "Then I shall find him myself." She turned towards the stairs but was immediately gratified to see her boy already coming down them "Ezra!"
The young man winced, fully aware of the reaction his mother's voice was having on both him and the child now cowering behind him. "Mother. Good to see you."
She grabbed his arm and pulled him the rest of the way down the stairs and into a private sitting room. "What are you dong here?" she hissed.
Ezra straightened his lapel nonchalantly. "I was under the impression, dear Mother, that you wanted to meet me here."
Maude wanted desperately to slap the smug look off her son's face, but as she was constantly reminding him, appearances were everything. Her genteel charade would be shattered if she let her temper get the best of her. "I mean, why aren't you in a hotel?"
"Mother, contrary to what you might think, neither one of us is rich. This place is the best I could get with my limited funds. Not to mention I made a rather impulsive purchase earlier today that just may demand my departure from even these rather," He searched for the right word, "...Spartan accommodations."
The older woman narrowed her eyes. "What sort of purchase?"
Ezra gestured to the urchin still clinging to his leg. "Mother, meet Nathan."
To say Maude Standish was astonished would by like saying the Atlantic Ocean was a little damp. "You...you...bought a slave? Ezra, whatever were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that I could not let a defenseless child be subjected to the cruelty of inhuman bondage any longer than he already had been. It was foolhardy, I admit, but my conscience would allow me to do nothing else."
"I thought I had taught you not to let a little thing like that control your actions," she said of his mention of conscience.
"Apparently you were wrong."
Maude was actually trembling with fury. "Well, congratulations. You have successfully ruined my plans. I cannot care for a child. I had hoped you could help me woo a certain gentleman I've been keeping tabs on, but now I see that won't be possible. Ezra, I simply cannot understand why you delight in seeing me impoverished. We made such a good team, and now you have chosen a stray darkie waif over your own mother." She rubbed her forehead delicately, looking for all the world like a helpless wilting flower about to swoon.
Ezra knew better. His drawl was brittle and cold as ice when he replied. "Mother, I do not expect you to care for this child, since I remember quite well how inept you are at that particular task. In addition, just to clarify, I do not care about your plans or your mark, or whether you get to wear fine silk or cheap cotton. You know as well as I do that you would never allow yourself to starve, so I have nothing to worry about there. I am a man now, Mother, and I do not have to play your little games anymore. Good day." Just before Ezra strode out the door, Nathan at his heels, he turned for one last comment. "Oh, and Mother? Do be a dear and watch what you say about my boy."
Ezra and Maude didn't speak again for four years.
~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
Six months later, Ezra Standish and Nathan Jackson stepped off the stagecoach and gazed around the dusty town in which they'd arrived. Ezra looked down at his small charge. "Doesn't look like much, does it?"
Nathan shrugged, slipping his little brown hand into Ezra's pale one. "It's smaller than Denver."
"Is that good or bad?"
Nathan looked up. "Denver had too many people."
Ezra smiled and nodded. "Let's stay here a while, then, and see what happens. How does that sound?"
Nathan nodded his agreement, and, as had become their custom, they headed to the nearest building to ask directions for a boarding house. That building happened to be a saloon.
Inside the dim and smoky room, cowhands and working girls seemed to fill every corner. Nathan inched closer to Ezra until he was pressed up against the young man's leg. Ezra patted his back softly. "It's alright, I'm here. I won't ever let anything happen to you."
Nathan didn't look up but his quiet voice met Ezra's ears nonetheless. "I know."
Though those two words sent a thrill of happiness through Ezra's body, he pushed the feeling away until he could deal with it properly later. He now searched the place for someone who looked as though they would be helpful. The barkeep seemed as likely a prospect as any, so the bar was where Ezra and Nathan headed. Halfway there, their path was intercepted by a tiny child, barely able to walk, with dark hair and mischievous blue eyes. He was closely pursued by a working girl in a low-cut maroon dress, a few years younger than Ezra. "Buck! Bucklyn James Wilmington, you stop right there!"
The baby looked up at Ezra, grinned wickedly, and toddled on his way. The woman followed, casting a quick apology up at the amused Southerner. "I'm sorry, sir, but my Buck does have a mind of his own."
"Quite alright, madame, I have a boy of my own and I know exactly what you mean."
She flashed him a smile, which faltered when she saw the boy to which he was undoubtedly referred. "He's your son?"
"Well, not by blood, obviously, but close enough. I'm all he has." And vice- versa, he added silently.
She momentarily stopped her chase and stood up straight to face him. "Sir, I think it'd be best if you left now."
Ezra bristled. "Excuse me?"
She hastened to explain. "Not that I care. You're welcome here as far as I'm concerned, but there's others who aren't so accepting. A white man with a colored child isn't exactly something you see around here every day. There's those who might do something drastic to make you move on."
Ezra glanced around, noticing for the first time the openly hostile glares being sent his way. "Perhaps you are right. Is there a boarding house of some sort in town we could occupy for a few days? We had thought of settling here."
She nodded. "About five miles west of here there's the old Anderson place. It's not much, but it'd be a roof over your head and I think you and your boy would be safer there than here in town. Feelings have been runnin' high since President Lincoln freed all the slaves."
Ezra smiled. "Thank you. You've been most kind, Miss...?"
"Wilmington. Emma Lou Wilmington."
"I am Ezra Standish and this is Nathan Jackson."
And so a new and very dear friendship was born.
~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
Over the next year, Ezra and Emma grew closer and closer, He had asked permission to formally court the girl several times, and had even gone so far as to propose, but each time she refused. She wouldn't expose him to further ostracism because of her profession. He suffered enough from the prejudices of townsfolk who objected to Nathan. Though Lincoln had freed the slaves, it would be a long, hard road before Negros earned equal rights, and there would always be people who looked down on them for the color of their skin.
However, her refusals did not stop him from spending as much time with her and Buck as possible. The little boy's first word was Mama, but his second was Ezra. And, Emma had withdrawn the promise from Ezra that if anything ever happened to her, he'd take in her boy and raise him as his own.
~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
Exactly a year after moving in to old man Anderson's boarding house, Ezra was shocked and saddened to find the kind old man slumped dead in his favorite chair. He had no living relatives and, since Ezra and Nathan had been his only boarders in years, he left the big house to them. When Ezra recovered from that unexpected blessing, an idea started to form in his head. As a child, he'd often been left with total strangers while his mother had been running a con. However, on one or two occasions, he'd been forced to spend a short amount of time in orphanages. He remembered all too well how squalid and unwelcoming those places could be. He remembered the nights he went to bed hungry and cold because there weren't enough blankets and food to go around.
Finally he came to a decision. He and Nathan didn't need such a large, roomy house just for themselves. So, he would open a sort of orphanage, for boys only, where they could run and play and be normal children. He still gambled enough to keep up a decent income, supplemented by various ranchers that hired him to break their more troublesome horses. He'd always had a way with animals and children, and this way he figured he'd have the best of both worlds.
A young couple named Travis had just moved into town and opened a newspaper. He was becoming friends with both Stephen and Mary, and was rather fond of their baby boy, Billy, who was a little younger than Buck. He'd heard that Stephen's father was a federal judge and began wondering if perhaps the older man would be willing to help him put his thoughts to action.
It would take two more years, but his vision would indeed come to be with the arrival of the troubled eight-year-old son of a preacher.
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A/N - Josiah's story coming soon!
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Emma, Mrs. Cahill, and Old Man Anderson (no, not the Colonel) all belong to me, but none of the others do.
I am making no profit from this story.
This is technically Nathan's story, though we find out a great deal about Ezra as well.
~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
When 23-year-old Ezra Standish stepped of the train in Atlanta, Georgia, he did not expect the first thing he would see to be a slave auction. Slave traders and plantation owners were everywhere, bartering over prices and bickering over the quality of the human goods they dealt.
The young man looked around in confusion. He had been told that his mother would meet him here, but it appeared she had either changed her mind or been delayed somehow. With a longsuffering sigh, he gathered up his baggage and headed to the nearby train depot to ask directions to lodgings for the night. He was directed to a clean and well-cared for, if rather small, boarding house owned by a widow named Mrs. Cahill.
As it turned out, the widow's husband had been killed some years earlier in a small outbreak of mumps and had left the house to her as his only legacy. Ezra was more than happy to take a room, as he had no idea how long his mother would be or if she would actually show up. He had slept on the street before but had not particularly enjoyed the experience and did not care to repeat it.
Once Ezra was settled in his room, he departed to explore the city he hadn't visited in many years. He received several odd looks, which didn't bother him unduly. He knew that most young men his age were soldiers fighting for the Confederacy, but Ezra had never been much of a fighter. He preferred wits to guns as weapons, besides which he wasn't entirely certain he agreed with the South beyond a certain loyalty to the land of his birth. For him, the practice of keeping slaves was abhorrent and the treatment said people received even more so. But, being a proud Georgian, he could not allow himself to join the Union, and so he fought not at all.
Ezra's wanderings brought him back to the auction, where he walked around more to see the sights than experience the buying and selling going on around him. He had grown up with slavery, and while he didn't particularly like it, it certainly wasn't foreign to him.
However, one piece of 'merchandise' caught his eyes and he found he couldn't tear his gaze away. Said item was a small boy, perhaps three or four years of age, with cocoa skin, glossy black curls, and eyes like pieces of charcoal. Those eyes met Ezra's and he was powerless to stop the quickening beat of his heart he felt as he looked into them. There was something ageless in those eyes, something that he recognized from the face he saw in the mirror every day.
It was called Dignity.
Ezra had developed it as a defense mechanism against the constant disappointments life had thrown his way. His mother had never been what you might call maternal; indeed in his early years he'd rarely seen her. At some of the houses he'd stayed at he'd been treated no better than the captive people he was now surrounded by. Dignity was something he'd clung to, the only thing his abusive uncles, stepfathers, and sometimes strangers couldn't take away from him. He suspected that this boy had developed it for the same reason.
Upon closer examination he realized that the child's clothes were ragged and he had no shoes. Though September in Georgia was not as cool as in some of the more northern states, there was still a distinct chill in the air and the boy had to be cold. Ezra shivered in sympathy.
He almost didn't recognize his own voice as it impulsively asked the hawker, "What can you tell me about that boy?"
"Ah, the gentleman has made an excellent choice. This slave is four years old. He has been trained as a house slave, but he is young and can be taught other tasks. He is healthy and strong, and is good for many years of work."
Ezra turned his expressionless face to the merchant. "Where is his family?"
The rather portly older man shrugged. "Sold away or dead, I expect. He came into my possession alone."
"What is his name?"
"His last master's name was Jackson, but you can call him whatever you want."
Ezra didn't show it, but the man's callousness sickened him. This was a child, for pity's sake, scarcely more than a baby, and no one even cared enough to learn his name. There was no excuse for such crude behavior. Well, Ezra could remedy that immediately. "How much?" The price named by the slave trader was nearly every penny Ezra currently had, but to him it was worth it. "Done."
The man grinned greedily and practically snatched the gold from Ezra's hand. "Get down here, boy!" He yanked the child rather roughly from the crate he stood on and held his shoulder with an unnecessarily tight grip. "You belong to this man, now, hear? You do whatever he says."
Ezra removed the man's hand with a painful move he'd learned while traveling in East Asia with one of Maude's many husbands. "You take your hands off that boy; he doesn't belong to you anymore."
The salesman winced and tried to weasel out of Ezra's hands. "Yes, sir, he's yours now. I am sorry."
Ezra dismissed him with a sniff and knelt to face the boy he'd just purchased. "What's your name?"
"Mama called me Nathan." He talked remarkably well for someone so young.
"Alright then, Nathan, my name is Ezra and that is how you may address me."
"Yes, sir, Master Ezra."
The young man regarded the child he now owned, wondering what on earth he was going to do with him. Another, even more frightening question popped into his mind. 'What will Mother say?'
Without even giving thought to the appearance it would present, Ezra took the small hand and began leading the child towards his boarding house. He was oblivious to the scandalized whispers and venomous stares sent his way by others on the street.
Ezra sat down on his bed, still staring at the small boy who was now standing uncertainly by the door. It was several minutes before he realized his scrutiny was scaring the child. "Nathan, come here." Nathan walked over slowly and stood next to his new master. "Do you know where your Mama and Daddy are?"
Ezra caught the telltale shimmer of tears in the soft brown eyes before Nathan dropped his head. "Mama went to Heaven and Daddy went away."
Well, that did it. Black or white, slave or free, Ezra had never been able to stand the sight of a child in pain. He reached out and gently drew the small body close to his own. "It's okay now. I'm here. I'll take care of you."
At first the skinny body was stiff in his arms, but then all of a sudden Nathan allowed himself to relax into the embrace and great, wracking sobs overtook his small frame. Ezra simply hugged him closer, whispering mindless words of reassurance and rubbing the heaving back in comforting circles.
This went on for nearly thirty minutes, and when Nathan finally pulled away his small face was damp but nowhere near as frightened. "You're not like the others."
"What others, Nathan?"
"The other men. They were mean. They hitted my Mama and made her go to Heaven."
Ezra sucked in a horrified breath. Sonofagun. Nathan's mother had been beaten to death, probably by her master or his overseer. "No one can ever hurt her...or you...again. I promise, and a Standish is a man of his word."
He was rewarded with a flash of brilliant white teeth as Nathan smiled his gratitude, and in that moment Ezra's frozen heart started to thaw.
~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
Maude Standish, aka Mary Simpson, aka Marge Smith, checked into the finest hotel Atlanta had to offer. While the hotel clerk was arranging for the care of her bags, she surreptitiously checked the register and recognized none of the names as a potential alias for her son. She scowled. He'd been told to meet her here. The thought that he's stay anywhere but the best never crossed her mind.
However, knowing in her devious heart that he'd never be able to resist spending time with her, she set off in search of her only child. She went first to the train depot, correctly assuming that he would have asked here about lodgings. The clerk behind the desk told her that he'd directed the young man she was describing to the Widow Cahill's boarding house.
She stalked off down the street, her striking green eyes flashing. A boarding house? Maude Standish's baby boy was staying in a common boarding house? What was he thinking? Didn't he even consider what such a thing would do to his reputation? To hers?
By the time she arrived she had worked up a right good anger. She entered the boarding house as if she were the Queen of England and it and all its residents were her subjects. "I demand to know the number of the room in which my son is staying!"
The Widow Cahill was unimpressed by Maude's superior carriage and her demanding tone. "Madame, I own this establishment and I don't give out information about my boarders without their permission."
Maude gave her the once-over and summarily dismissed her. "Then I shall find him myself." She turned towards the stairs but was immediately gratified to see her boy already coming down them "Ezra!"
The young man winced, fully aware of the reaction his mother's voice was having on both him and the child now cowering behind him. "Mother. Good to see you."
She grabbed his arm and pulled him the rest of the way down the stairs and into a private sitting room. "What are you dong here?" she hissed.
Ezra straightened his lapel nonchalantly. "I was under the impression, dear Mother, that you wanted to meet me here."
Maude wanted desperately to slap the smug look off her son's face, but as she was constantly reminding him, appearances were everything. Her genteel charade would be shattered if she let her temper get the best of her. "I mean, why aren't you in a hotel?"
"Mother, contrary to what you might think, neither one of us is rich. This place is the best I could get with my limited funds. Not to mention I made a rather impulsive purchase earlier today that just may demand my departure from even these rather," He searched for the right word, "...Spartan accommodations."
The older woman narrowed her eyes. "What sort of purchase?"
Ezra gestured to the urchin still clinging to his leg. "Mother, meet Nathan."
To say Maude Standish was astonished would by like saying the Atlantic Ocean was a little damp. "You...you...bought a slave? Ezra, whatever were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that I could not let a defenseless child be subjected to the cruelty of inhuman bondage any longer than he already had been. It was foolhardy, I admit, but my conscience would allow me to do nothing else."
"I thought I had taught you not to let a little thing like that control your actions," she said of his mention of conscience.
"Apparently you were wrong."
Maude was actually trembling with fury. "Well, congratulations. You have successfully ruined my plans. I cannot care for a child. I had hoped you could help me woo a certain gentleman I've been keeping tabs on, but now I see that won't be possible. Ezra, I simply cannot understand why you delight in seeing me impoverished. We made such a good team, and now you have chosen a stray darkie waif over your own mother." She rubbed her forehead delicately, looking for all the world like a helpless wilting flower about to swoon.
Ezra knew better. His drawl was brittle and cold as ice when he replied. "Mother, I do not expect you to care for this child, since I remember quite well how inept you are at that particular task. In addition, just to clarify, I do not care about your plans or your mark, or whether you get to wear fine silk or cheap cotton. You know as well as I do that you would never allow yourself to starve, so I have nothing to worry about there. I am a man now, Mother, and I do not have to play your little games anymore. Good day." Just before Ezra strode out the door, Nathan at his heels, he turned for one last comment. "Oh, and Mother? Do be a dear and watch what you say about my boy."
Ezra and Maude didn't speak again for four years.
~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*7~*
Six months later, Ezra Standish and Nathan Jackson stepped off the stagecoach and gazed around the dusty town in which they'd arrived. Ezra looked down at his small charge. "Doesn't look like much, does it?"
Nathan shrugged, slipping his little brown hand into Ezra's pale one. "It's smaller than Denver."
"Is that good or bad?"
Nathan looked up. "Denver had too many people."
Ezra smiled and nodded. "Let's stay here a while, then, and see what happens. How does that sound?"
Nathan nodded his agreement, and, as had become their custom, they headed to the nearest building to ask directions for a boarding house. That building happened to be a saloon.
Inside the dim and smoky room, cowhands and working girls seemed to fill every corner. Nathan inched closer to Ezra until he was pressed up against the young man's leg. Ezra patted his back softly. "It's alright, I'm here. I won't ever let anything happen to you."
Nathan didn't look up but his quiet voice met Ezra's ears nonetheless. "I know."
Though those two words sent a thrill of happiness through Ezra's body, he pushed the feeling away until he could deal with it properly later. He now searched the place for someone who looked as though they would be helpful. The barkeep seemed as likely a prospect as any, so the bar was where Ezra and Nathan headed. Halfway there, their path was intercepted by a tiny child, barely able to walk, with dark hair and mischievous blue eyes. He was closely pursued by a working girl in a low-cut maroon dress, a few years younger than Ezra. "Buck! Bucklyn James Wilmington, you stop right there!"
The baby looked up at Ezra, grinned wickedly, and toddled on his way. The woman followed, casting a quick apology up at the amused Southerner. "I'm sorry, sir, but my Buck does have a mind of his own."
"Quite alright, madame, I have a boy of my own and I know exactly what you mean."
She flashed him a smile, which faltered when she saw the boy to which he was undoubtedly referred. "He's your son?"
"Well, not by blood, obviously, but close enough. I'm all he has." And vice- versa, he added silently.
She momentarily stopped her chase and stood up straight to face him. "Sir, I think it'd be best if you left now."
Ezra bristled. "Excuse me?"
She hastened to explain. "Not that I care. You're welcome here as far as I'm concerned, but there's others who aren't so accepting. A white man with a colored child isn't exactly something you see around here every day. There's those who might do something drastic to make you move on."
Ezra glanced around, noticing for the first time the openly hostile glares being sent his way. "Perhaps you are right. Is there a boarding house of some sort in town we could occupy for a few days? We had thought of settling here."
She nodded. "About five miles west of here there's the old Anderson place. It's not much, but it'd be a roof over your head and I think you and your boy would be safer there than here in town. Feelings have been runnin' high since President Lincoln freed all the slaves."
Ezra smiled. "Thank you. You've been most kind, Miss...?"
"Wilmington. Emma Lou Wilmington."
"I am Ezra Standish and this is Nathan Jackson."
And so a new and very dear friendship was born.
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Over the next year, Ezra and Emma grew closer and closer, He had asked permission to formally court the girl several times, and had even gone so far as to propose, but each time she refused. She wouldn't expose him to further ostracism because of her profession. He suffered enough from the prejudices of townsfolk who objected to Nathan. Though Lincoln had freed the slaves, it would be a long, hard road before Negros earned equal rights, and there would always be people who looked down on them for the color of their skin.
However, her refusals did not stop him from spending as much time with her and Buck as possible. The little boy's first word was Mama, but his second was Ezra. And, Emma had withdrawn the promise from Ezra that if anything ever happened to her, he'd take in her boy and raise him as his own.
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Exactly a year after moving in to old man Anderson's boarding house, Ezra was shocked and saddened to find the kind old man slumped dead in his favorite chair. He had no living relatives and, since Ezra and Nathan had been his only boarders in years, he left the big house to them. When Ezra recovered from that unexpected blessing, an idea started to form in his head. As a child, he'd often been left with total strangers while his mother had been running a con. However, on one or two occasions, he'd been forced to spend a short amount of time in orphanages. He remembered all too well how squalid and unwelcoming those places could be. He remembered the nights he went to bed hungry and cold because there weren't enough blankets and food to go around.
Finally he came to a decision. He and Nathan didn't need such a large, roomy house just for themselves. So, he would open a sort of orphanage, for boys only, where they could run and play and be normal children. He still gambled enough to keep up a decent income, supplemented by various ranchers that hired him to break their more troublesome horses. He'd always had a way with animals and children, and this way he figured he'd have the best of both worlds.
A young couple named Travis had just moved into town and opened a newspaper. He was becoming friends with both Stephen and Mary, and was rather fond of their baby boy, Billy, who was a little younger than Buck. He'd heard that Stephen's father was a federal judge and began wondering if perhaps the older man would be willing to help him put his thoughts to action.
It would take two more years, but his vision would indeed come to be with the arrival of the troubled eight-year-old son of a preacher.
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A/N - Josiah's story coming soon!
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