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Renaldo, Miriam, and Emma all belong to me, but none of the others do.

I am making no profit from this story.

This story is my third in the Standish House AU. It tells of how Josiah came to live with Ezra.

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Renaldo Sanchez thumped his already battered pulpit with a powerful fist. His congregation watched with wide, awed eyes and listened intently to his message of fire and brimstone. They were totally drawn in by the handsome features and flashing dark eyes of the big preacher.

Two other sets of eyes were filled with fear rather than awe. These eyes belonged to the Reverend's seven year old twins Hannah and Josiah. They knew from experience that when their father got this wound up at church they'd suffer for it later.

They weren't wrong.

That night, while he was struggling with the stubborn hand pump at their sink, Josiah's small hand slipped and he knocked a vase off the kitchen counter. It fell to the floor with a horrifying crash, making both the boy and his sister jump. Both knew what was coming when heavy footsteps could immediately be heard from the direction of their father's room.

Josiah thought quickly. "Hannah, get out!"

"No, Jojo, I won't leave you."

"Get out now or he'll hurt you too. Go hide in the barn 'til I say it's safe." When she still hesitated, he grabbed her and shoved her towards the back door. "GO!"

Hannah went.

After their mother's death two years earlier, the children's father had gotten more and more violent. It seemed that she was the only thing standing between him and the devil he so adamantly preached against. He nearly went insane after she was taken away. Though on Sunday morning he ranted and raved about the demons in alcohol, on Sunday night he could be found passed out in his living room, empty whiskey bottle dangling from calloused fingers.

It was the in-between times his children feared.

Members of the Reverend Sanchez' flock had seen the bruises and scars on the children's bodies, of course, but had turned a blind eye because they couldn't believe such an awful thing of their beloved preacher. Unfortunately, even those who were suspicious were too cowed by the will of others to do anything about it. So, each night, Josiah and Hannah went home in fear and nearly every morning they woke up with a new bruise to add to the collection. Josiah protected his twin sister as best he could, but he was still only seven and even though he was big for his age he was no match for the huge man that threatened them.

This night was no different than any other. Josiah knew what had been happening in the bedroom: his father had gotten out his mother's picture and been drinking whiskey to try to dull the pain that cropped up whenever he saw her face. As usual, he blamed Josiah and Hannah for her death. Miriam Sanchez had died while trying to give birth to the couple's third child. Neither had survived. Renaldo completely overlooked the fact that he'd caused his wife's pregnancy to begin with. Instead, he saw his remaining children and hated them for coming from the same painful process that stole his wife away. So, naturally, when his anger cropped up they took it as was their rightful due, at least in his alcohol clouded mind. It never even occurred to him that sometimes such things just happen and no one was to blame.

Josiah frantically tried to clean the vase up before his father arrived, but it was no use. There were simply too many miniscule fragments. He never noticed the cuts adorning his small fingers, only the fact that he'd failed once again to stave off his father's violence.

Renaldo took in the scene through narrow, bloodshot eyes. He snarled silently and grabbed his young son by the front of his shirt. "You worthless little piece of...! What the hell did you do?"

"I-I'm sorry, Father. It was an accident. I'll clean it up."

"You're damn right you will! Clumsy little brat, aren't you? I'll beat that devil outta you yet, boy."

He threw Josiah forcefully against the cabin wall, knocking the breath from his lungs with an audible 'oomph.' Even before the boy had regained his breath, his father was on him, driving those huge fists into his thin body and kicking his unprotected ribs. Josiah squeezed his eyes shut and prayed fitfully for a release from the hell that was his life. The relief never came but at least the effort kept him from crying out in pain, something that would only anger Renaldo further.

When the preacher's anger finally ebbed away, he left Josiah in a broken heap on the floor.

It was quite some time before the seven year old worked up the courage and energy to struggle to his feet. He knew all too well the feeling of broken ribs, and recognized it now. He gingerly prodded his face and came to the painful conclusion that his cheekbone was broken...again. The rest of his injuries seemed to mainly consist of bruises, which he quickly dismissed as unimportant. His slight limp he ignored as he cleaned the rest of the mess up as swiftly as his ribs allowed and carried it out to the trash pile behind the house.

He then fetched Hannah from her hiding place in the barn. "Hannah!" He hissed in a pained whisper, hoping his father wouldn't hear. He didn't want her to get hurt too.

A tousled blonde head peeked around the door of the loft. "Jojo?"

"It's safe now. I think Father went to bed."

She crept down and gasped in horror when she saw the mess that was her twin's face. "Oh, Jojo!"

"I'm okay, Hannah, let's just go in to bed. I'll be better in the morning."

Her small face twisted in anger. "I'll kill him."

Josiah's blue eyes widened. "Hannah, ssshh! If he hears you..."

"I don't care." Righteous anger filled the high-pitched voice. "I'd like to stab him in the heart with a knife."

Josiah was speechless with shock. He had somehow convinced himself that he deserved what his father gave him. It honestly didn't occur to him that his father was wrong; only that he was stupid and clumsy and needed to behave better to avoid the beatings. Hannah, on the other hand, would not be cowed. She fought back every single time her father attacked her, and would never believe that he was in the right. Her spirited denials only made Renaldo angrier, but she hadn't backed down yet and it made her twin afraid for her.

Despite her resolve to kill her father, though, Hannah couldn't do it, not while he was sleeping. For one thing, she wasn't strong enough. She had always been small for her age, and though they were both seven, she looked about four where her brother was the size of most ten year olds. In addition, she wanted to take her revenge while the Reverend was awake, so she could enjoy the look in his eyes as she got him back for every single bruise she'd ever received. A bit bloodthirsty for a seven year old, true, but her mother had always said that Hannah had more gumption than most grownups. She was as set in her way of thinking as her father, though her beliefs were quite the opposite of his. So she waited for the day she was big enough to fight her father off in one of his drunken rages and end the beatings once and for all.

That day was another year in coming, and it didn't work out quite as she'd hoped.

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Only three weeks had passed since the twins turned eight. Both had grown in the past year, especially Josiah. He was tall and already had the beginnings of the powerful shoulders and broad chest adulthood would bring. Hannah was still quite small, though her strong will more than made up for her stature.

Renaldo had not gotten over his habit of drinking, and both Hannah and Josiah had the marks to prove it. Josiah still sent his sister to the barn whenever their father got angry, and so spared her a great deal of the pain he suffered.

One unseasonably warm night in May, however, that all changed. Renaldo was raging about the fact that Hannah had burnt his biscuits and was busy working up a good anger by smashing furniture when Josiah thrust Hannah out the door. As always, he assured her, "I'll come get you when it's safe."

However, this night, Hannah had no intention of waiting. She went to the barn, alright, but she only stayed long enough to grab the hand-axe her father used to chop wood in the winter. She returned stealthily to the house just in time to see her father backhand her twin across the face. Josiah landed awkwardly on his right arm, and the snapping of bone was unmistakable. She barely heard the cry of pain Josiah let out, only the roaring that filled her ears. She stormed into the house, axe swinging furiously. She was barely aware when she hit her father in the leg, opening a gash that went all the way to the bone. She didn't notice when he yanked the axe from her hands. A tiny wildcat propelled herself at his face, clawing and screaming in fury. Renaldo responded by grabbing her by the throat and lifting her above his head. Still she would not back down, so he roared like a lion and threw her into their fireplace. Her head cracked on the unyielding stone mantle, and blood instantly began coating the blonde curls.

Renaldo staggered, the blood spurting from his own injury finally coming to his attention. He tried to grab the table to catch himself, but missed, and crashed to the floor inches from his son, unconscious.

Josiah lurched to his feet, blocking the pain of his broken arm from his mind. He stumbled over to where Hannah lay, swallowing back sudden nausea at the amount of blood pooling around her head. He lifted her to his shoulder with his good arm and headed towards the nearest neighbor's house for help.

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Within three months, a federal judge had declared that neither child would ever live with their father again. No legal action was taken against Renaldo, though Josiah received some measure of satisfaction that the axe had been rusty and so infection had set in. The doctor brought in to treat the reverend's injuries had had no choice but to amputate.

Josiah's broken arm had healed with no complications, though the broken heart would take a bit longer. Hannah hadn't been so lucky. When she finally woke up, she had not been the same. She no longer knew her brother. Her talk consisted mainly of mindless ramblings that made no sense to anyone but herself. She had occasional brief moments of clarity, but they were few and far between. The small child had been put in a convent where the sisters hoped her muddled mind would eventually recover, though the doctor left little hope of that possibility.

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Ezra Standish read the letter from Judge Travis with some trepidation. He had been waiting for this day for years, but now that it had arrived, he was quite nervous. Another boy was coming to live with him.

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Dear Ezra,

Thank you for your recent letter. Evie was glad to hear from you. She is bedridden now, you know, so letters are currently the only links she has to the world outside our bedroom. Tell Mary and Stephen we are doing well. And thank them for me for the quilt they sent, it does a wonderful job of keeping Evie warm.

However, that is not why I am writing you. I have heard of a boy who needs a home and was wondering if you were still interested. His name is Josiah Sanchez and he is eight years old, just a little older than Nathan. His mother died about three years ago, and he and his twin sister have been living with their father, a clergyman. Unfortunately, it seems that the Reverend Sanchez turned to liquor after his wife's death and has been beating his children ever since.

Josiah has suffered no permanent damage, at least not physically, but his sister Hannah is now residing in a convent that is better suited to care for her needs. She received a bad head injury and as I understand it, she is now rather simple-minded. Naturally, the children will not be sent back to their father.

We have tried several times to have Josiah adopted, but have been as yet unsuccessful. I am hoping that with a more stable and permanent home he'll be better able to recover from his ordeal. Would you be wiling to try and provide that? If so, please respond as quickly as possible. I do not want that boy in an orphanage any longer than absolutely necessary.

Very sincerely yours,

Orrin Travis

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Ezra may have been nervous, but that did not mean he wasn't going to accept. He began the response immediately.

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Josiah was a tall boy. That was the first thing Ezra noticed when he stepped off the stage two weeks later. Judge Travis was right behind him, gently steering the obviously frightened child towards his new guardian. Ezra smiled at him, hoping to release some of the tension he could feel radiating off the boy. Josiah would not meet his eyes, nor would he consent to shake Ezra's hand.

The Judge sent him an apologetic look, but Ezra shrugged it off. He well remembered the fear he'd felt every time he'd gone to a new home, and also the uncertainty that followed the type of abuse Josiah had suffered. They'd get through this; it would just take time.

Upon further examination, Ezra could see that Josiah was a very handsome boy. His black curls were shiny and tousled. Pale blue eyes looked out from underneath a wide forehead and the strong jaw and broad shoulders told of the power to come with adulthood.

But it was the hesitation in those blue eyes that caught Ezra's attention the most of all. He laid a gentle hand on Josiah's shoulder, pretending not to notice the involuntary flinch that resulted. "Hello, Josiah, my name is Ezra. I'm very glad you're coming to live with me. There's another boy already living at my house. His name is Nathan and he's real excited to meet you. He's seven, just a little younger than you and I bet you two will get along quite well."

Josiah listened silently, but didn't reply except to offer a nearly whispered, "Hello."

Ezra sighed. This might be harder than he thought. 'But,' he thought, 'Not to worry, Ezra. He'll come around. You must be patient.'

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Ezra's patience won out after all, but he wasn't the one to bring Josiah around. That particular honor belonged to Nathan and Nathan alone. The young ex-slave was the one to include Josiah in all the nonsense that boys love so much. He was the one who helped the boy find his way around the orchards and stables on the property. He introduced Josiah to Chaucer, Ezra's horse, and to Patty and Jake, the big draft horses used to pull the wagon. He dragged Josiah to town with them and that's where the boy met the Travises and Emma and Buck.

However, it was to Ezra that Josiah went one night six weeks after he'd arrived. The first big storm of the season was coming up and, though he wouldn't admit it, the boy was scared. He appeared in Ezra's doorway late that night. "Mr. Ezra?"

Ezra was only half-awake, but he recognized the urgency in Josiah's tone immediately. "What is it, Josiah?"

"I...Well, it's storming outside and I wanted to make sure you and Nathan were okay."

Ezra nodded solemnly, the slight humor in the situation not even entering his mind. "Did you check on Nathan?"

"Yeah. He's okay." After a moment, Josiah asked softly, "Are you okay?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, it's a little bit scary in here with all that thunder. Do you mind keeping me company for a while?"

Immense relief shown on the young face. "Sure, I don't mind." Josiah clambered into Ezra's bed, at first keeping his distance. However, with each clap of thunder he scooted closer until he was tucked up close to the gambler's side. He looked up, startled, when he realized what he'd done, but Ezra's easy smile reassured him that he'd done nothing wrong. He relaxed then and was soon asleep. Ezra soon followed.

A short time later, vibrations under the arm Ezra had eased around Josiah's shoulder brought him awake once more. He looked down to see those shoulders jerking in silent tears. Gently Ezra jostled the boy to let him know he was awake. "Josiah, son, what's wrong?"

It took a few minutes for him to reply. "I miss my mama."

Ezra gathered him up then and held him close, much the same as he'd done to Nathan several years earlier. "I know you do, Josiah. But you know what? I'll bet your mama is watching from Heaven right now and smiling."

Josiah looked up and sniffled. "You think so?"

"I'd bet on it."

"Mr. Ezra, is your mama in Heaven, too?"

"No, Josiah, my mother is still alive." Ezra hesitated, then revealed something that he'd kept close to his heart for a long time. "But my father went to Heaven when I was even younger than Nathan."

"What happened?"

"He...he was shot while he was trying to stop some bad men from hurting my mother and I." Ezra shifted a bit to get more comfortable, and smiled when he felt Josiah shift with him. "I was just six years old. He was a banker, my father. He was so smart. I remember that he always used to take me to work with him and sometimes I got to help count the money and put it in the safe. The night he died, he came home whistling. He had just helped a new young married couple buy their first house and he was just about to bust at the seams. He just loved helping people like that, making others happy." Ezra's voice wavered, but he didn't stop. "I miss him so much sometimes."

He felt Josiah's head nod against his chest. "My mama was so pretty. She had hair like leaves."

"Leaves?" Ezra didn't quite understand.

"Yeah, you know. In the fall when the leaves all change color and it looks almost like the trees are on fire it's so bright? That's what her hair was like. Sometimes when she'd come to tell me and Hannah goodnight she'd bend over my bed and her hair would be all around me and it smelled like the kitchen right after she baked bread."

Ezra hugged Josiah. "You know, Josiah, if you just hold on to that memory, she won't ever really leave. When we remember the people we loved, they live on right in here," he touched Josiah's chest, "and in here." Then he touched the unruly curls. "They won't ever really die if we don't forget."

Josiah didn't reply again, and within a few moments his breathing evened out. Ezra knew he'd fallen asleep. He placed a soft kiss on the dark head. "I'll always be here if you want to share another memory, Josiah."

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Author's Note- Chris' story is mostly done, though I am going to do a little bit more tweaking. It should be posted within the next week or so.

Remember, feedback is much appreciated!