A/N: In Memory of Devon and in honor of the sons he left behind.
What was Missing
Part Two
When Ezra woke the next morning, the bedroom was empty. The Aladdin wall clock read ten 'o clock in the morning.
For a moment the young boy was unsure where he was and what was going on. But, being used to waking up in strange places, his mind quickly adjusted.
With a long sigh sounding far too old for the small child, Ezra concluded "Mother." With a shake of his head, he decided "Might as well get it over with." Stretching, he yawned, then slowly climbed out of bed. He took a moment from getting dress to take a good look at the finger shape bruises on his arms.
The ones on his shoulder were already fading. But the ones on his arm were deeper. Those would take a couple extra...
"I have some cream that will make those feel better."
The boy spun about to stare wide eyed at Sarah.
She was leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest. A small, round, white container was held in one hand.
Ezra was quick to recover, offering a not quite steady smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Larabee. It is a pleasure to see you on this wonderful morning." he said, quickly turning his back to her and glancing about for his shirt.
Sarah walked into the room and sat on the bed beside him. Seemingly unaware of what he was looking for, she moved the shirt behind her and out of reach.
Ezra stopped moving. Standing very still, he looked at her from the corner of his eye, wondering what exactly was she doing. He wasn't sure if she had moved the shirt on purpose or not. Was she playing him? Conning him?
Sarah reached out and gently took him by the chin, turning his head until he was looking directly at her. "It doesn't smell or hurt or anything else. It'll just dull the ouch a bit and help heal the bruises." she continued to sell the cream in her hand. She was already unscrewing the top.
Guessing that he didn't have much of a choice, Ezra sighed. "Yes, ma'am." he excepted. "That would be... appreciated."
Sarah smiled a little more. She gently pulled him to her lap. Dipping her fingers into the cream, she proceeded to rub it into the bruises. She frowned when the boy didn't wince when she added pressure. She had to wonder just how many times does it take for a child to become insensitive to being hurt.
Sensing her concern, Ezra tried to quiet it. "They will not last long, Mrs. Larabee. Little boy color as my mother would call them. Every growing boy has them at one time or an..."
"No, Ezra, they do not!" Sarah cut him off a little too harshly.
Again Ezra stopped cold, freezing in place, and wait.
Sarah closed her eyes, feeling the need to find a little strength within, before continuing. "No, Ezra, little boys do not have bruises the shape of finger prints on their arms... or anywhere else on their body for that matter." she breathed. "Little boys have bruises from falling out of trees or being a little rough at dodge ball. They have scraped knees from running too fast, they have bumps from bouncing on beds that they shouldn't have. They have slivers and little cuts from learning how to widdle. They have blisters on their feet from forgetting to ware socks. They have sunburns, cat scratches, and bug bites. They do not have finger bruises." She ran a gentle finger over the purple marks on his arm. "These are wrong, Ezra, and they should never have happened." She shook her head, sniffing back her own heartache at the sight. "I am so sorry that it did happen."
Frowning, Ezra looked up at her. Was she really going to cry about it? Why would she cry over him? He wasn't even her kid!
Gathering her strength once more, Sarah's smile returned. "What do you say you finish getting dress and come and get something to eat. We have a busy day and nearly half of it is already gone." She handed him his shirt again.
"Half?" Ezra huffed at the absurdity. "It's only ten in the morning! This is early!" he protested. "I'm used to sleeping 'til nearly noon."
"Noon?" Sarah huffed right back. "Well, young man, here abouts morning starts in the AM hours." She laughed when his eyes narrowed in a scowl. Hugging him, she admitted "You are a delight, Ezra. But even delights need breakfast and, apparently, alarm clocks." Then she was on her feet and heading down the hall, calling over her shoulder "Get a wiggle on it, buddy boy. Truck's pulling out in twenty and I want food in that belly of yours."
Ezra stood where he was, a little bewildered at the exchange. He didn't understand Sarah Larabee. She wasn't like any woman he had ever met before in all of his short life. And certainly nothing like his own mother. He couldn't help but wonder if Sarah was what mothers were supposed to be like... wonder what it would be like to wake up every morning, greeted by a mother like that.
Ezra suddenly blushed, realizing that he had been standing there, smiling at absolutely nothing.
Quick as he could, he swung his shirt on, grabbed his shoes, and hurried out of the room.
0o0o0o0o0
Mary Travis frowned at the one slip of paper in the folder. "There isn't a whole lot here to work with, Josiah." she admitted. "You didn't even get her to sign a form of intent. A brief statement saying that she wanted you to have the boy..."
Josiah sighed, but Buck was quick to question the social worker. "What about the abuse?" he wanted to know. "You can take kids away if they're being hurt. Well, both Josiah and Sarah saw her hurt Ez."
Mary leaned back in her seat. "We need to record any bruises and other marks of abuse and we need him to tell us about his life with her, so on and so forth. He'll need a complete physical and an interview..."
"Interview?" Josiah looked up at her.
"By a third, unattached party. Us." Mary tried to be very precise. "We went through this with Vincent. Admittedly, that was easier. His mother had died. There was no chance of anyone protesting his placement. And his previous foster home was directly under our employment. It was almost a simple matter to investigate and shut them down." She tapped the application for placement on the desk before her, reading the sketchy information once again. Then she looked at the men once again. "Josiah, are you sure you want to take on this child? There is a good chance he isn't yours."
"If he is mine, he is my responsibility." Josiah answered quietly. "If he isn't, then he still needs my help." He shook his head. "I can't turn my back on that."
Mary shrugged. "Helping him doesn't necessarily mean taking him in to your own home and raising him as your own. We do have plenty of good, loving homes..."
"Do we have to decide that now?" Josiah cut her off. He didn't like the idea of sending that small boy into the system to be passed from one home to another. But, what if Ezra wasn't his?
Buck patted his big friend on the arm. "Nay, of course not." he answered which earned him a glare from the social worker. He simply glared back, daring her to counter his assurances.
Mary sighed. Reaching behind her desk for a new form in a filing cabinet, she answered "Since the Larabees already have certification as foster parents, I will place Ezra Standish in their temporary custody."
"Alright." Buck clapped his hands excitedly.
Mary frowned at him, wondering just why he was there in her office anyway.
"What do we do to get him something permanent?" Josiah wanted to know.
The social worker quickly turned her attention back to Josiah. "Now that we've decided where Ezra will be spending his time during the investigation, we need to prove his parentage, one way or another. And gather evidence of the possible abuse and the abandonment, which, at this time, we are going to call it." She paused. "Is there any chance that we can find Mrs. Standish and get her to sign a letter of intent? Right out sign the child to your care?"
Josiah stiffened.
Again, Buck leaped to with the answer: "With any luck, she's long gone. Farther the better."
"Maybe, maybe not." Mary responded. "Simple fact is, if she doesn't sign him over, showing that it is a voluntary action, then we'll have to use the accusations of abuse and abandonment to win custody. That means going through family court, possibly criminal depending on the extent of the abuse. And court means the mother needs to be present and/or represented. She has the right to face her accuser."
This time Buck frowned. "Josiah or Ezra?" he wanted to know.
Mary glanced at him. "Both." She shrugged. "Do you see now why we should try to find her? End this now and quickly, rather than dragging it through the court system for months, possibly years."
Buck looked up at his big friend. "Okay." he sighed. "I'll find her. You take care of your boy."
Mary nodded her agreement. Buck might have been an odd ball, but he was an odd ball that never lost sight of the goal... particularly when children were involved. If Maude Standish was to be found, Buck Wilmington would do it. On to other business. "In the meantime, Josiah, I need to meet with Ezra, but somewhere he feels comfortable."
"Come on out to the ranch. We're having a bar-b-que this weekend." Buck suggested.
Josiah smiled slightly, though it was a distracted expression. "It would be nice to have you out. Sarah has been going stir crazy with nothing but men to keep her company. And the boys have been asking about Gramps Travis.'"
Mary smiled at the reference to her father-in-law, a family court judge who had placed the two boys with the Larabees. He had spent several hours interviewing Vin and J.D. about the time they had spent with Chris and Buck. The boys had come out of his chambers calling him Gramps.' The affection had been mutual. "I'm sure he would enjoy the visit as well. Let's say tomorrow? 10am?" With confirmation from both men, Mary rose to her feet. "Tomorrow then, gentlemen. I will find out what I can about the boy in the mean time. Have a good day."
"Well, better, anyway." Buck mumbled, and the two men left the office.
o0o0o0o0o
Ezra stared at his sandwich... well, if one could call it a sandwich. Fried lard held together by a few tendons of protein (what type of protein he shuddered to consider) slapped between two grainy (flour? dust? mold?) pillows of air, smeared with artificially colored, artificially flavored, artificially artificial condiments, and garnished with the rejects from the hog slop.
"I just love fast food." Sarah Larabee admitted. "Could eat this stuff 24/7!"
Ezra's responding look was of horrified, disgusted shock.
Sarah laughed. "Yea, that's what Nat says." She begun to dig about the greasy fast food sack. "Got something for you."
The boy groaned. "Oh, heavenly saints preserve me... before the preservatives do."
But, to his amazement and his growling tummy's glee, the woman produced a...
"Salad!" Ezra practically pounced on it.
It wasn't a great salad, but it wasn't dripping in anything and, after viewing his choices, that was good enough for him.
Laughing again, Sarah moved the rejected burger out of the way. "Looks like you and I are gonna have to get together to discuss the menu. Though, it's gotta be said, you're missing out." She was about to take a bite out of the burger when she froze.
A pair of big, hazel eyes blinked at her over the edge of the picnic table.
"I thought you were still napping." Sarah admitted.
"I wokes up." J.D. answered around a yawn.
Sarah smiled. "So you did. Hungry, sweet pea?" She offered him the burger.
To her dismay, he shook his head. "I want what Ez's havin'."
"Humph." Sarah glanced at Ezra. "Corrupting him already, eh? Next thing you know you'll have him turning off Dragon Ball Z and readin' Hamlet."
Ezra grinned. And it was a full out mischievous little boy grin that pleased Sarah to no ends. "Hamlet is a good play. A classic." was his answer.
"What's a classics?" J.D. wondered. Crawling up on the bench beside Ezra, he sniffed at his salad. "What's that?" Then he glanced around. "When's Buck comin'?"
Sarah pointed. "That's a salad, all vegies."
The little boy frowned. "Vegies?" he wined. His eyes quickly found the lone burger, his little hands quickly following his eyes.
Again Sarah laughed, pushing the sandwich within reach. "I knew I could count on you to stand fast to the junk food."
Eagerly, he dove into it, ravaging it like a starving wolf would latch onto a raw steak.
Ezra glanced over Sarah's shoulder and frowned.
Sarah's eyes narrowed. "Something wrong, sweety?" she wondered, picking at a dish of fries.
Ezra's eyes snapped back to her. He smiled. "Nothing what so ever, Mrs. Larabee." He carefully rose to his feet. "If you will excuse me..."
"Wheres you goin'?" J.D. wanted to know. "Can I come? I wanna come too!"
Ezra stopped, glancing down at him. But, thinking it would raise suspicion if he denied the child, he shrugged. "If you wish, Mr. Dunne. Though I am only planning a visit to the gentlemen's lavatory." When the only response was a confused, little frown from the younger boy, Ezra sighed. "Bathroom." he translated.
"Okay." Like even the public bathroom at the city park could entertain the five year old.
Sarah was frowning, but she shrugged. "Alrighty, boys. Keep an eye on each other and hurry back.." she said before popping a French fry in her mouth.
Ezra smiled his best, nodded his assurance, and climbed to his feet. With little J.D. bouncing after, he crossed the picnic area to the public bathrooms.
As he had thought, the bathroom was filthy, smelly, but empty. After all, kids were in school or day care, most parents at work. The park had been nearly empty. There were two doors, one at each end of the long, cement building. Six stalls lined one wall, six sinks on the opposite wall.
Ezra walked straight to the stall nearest to the far door. He paused before entering to look at J.D. "Go into one." he instructed.
J.D. sniffed. "You going potty?" he wanted to know.
The older boy frowned at the choice of words, but, being in con mode, he played along. "Yes, and so are you. Go in, lock the door, go... potty... and don't come out until I come for you. Understand?"
J.D. nodded eagerly. No, he didn't understand, but it sounded like a game to him... and he was always interested in playing a game. So, he ducked into a stall and closed the door behind him.
Ezra waited until he heard the bolt snap into place, before adding one more time "Stay there!" He glanced about quickly, double checking that no one was about, then hurried out the door.
A hand snagged at his shoulder and threw him back against the hard, cement wall.
"Ow." Ezra hissed, squeezing his eyes closed as he slid down the wall.
Ignoring the hurt she had caused, Maude glanced around the corner of the door, making sure that her son hadn't been followed.
"Mother..." Ezra spoke softly.
Maude held up a hand, silencing him. When she was sure they were alone, she turned her attention to the boy. "Where's the money?" she demanded, reaching down to grab him by the collar and dragging him to his feet.
Ezra didn't hesitate. "Humboldt Bank." Digging into his pocket, he produced the deposit slip he had snuck out of Sarah's purse when she had been putting J.D. down for his nap. "Her pass code is 5683."
Maude huffed. "Figures."
Ezra tilted his head to one side. "What?" he wondered.
"5683 spells love." She shook her head. "That pathetic little bitch has always leaned toward the sappy side." She snatched the slip of paper out of his hand and began to read it over.
Ezra watched her for a moment. He couldn't help but compare her to Sarah. Sarah who's touch was gentle and warm, her words kind and encouraging. His mother's hard, painful touch, her words full of hate and lies, were suddenly very ugly to him. "I don't think she's pathetic." he mumbled under his breath.
But it wasn't quiet enough that Maude didn't hear. Her eyes snapped up from the deposit slip to bore into him. Her lip curled up in a sneer. "Well, perhaps that is because you are just as pathetic as she is." She snatched his collar again, yanking him to her. Her free hand waved the slip at him. "This is mere pennies! Where's the rest of the money?" she demanded.
Ezra blinked. "The rest?"
"Don't be stupid!" She shook him angrily. "This is just the Redwood Guides business account. It's just a filter account. It is the savings account and their personal accounts where the money is. Where! Are! Those! Accounts?"
Each shake whipped his head about until his neck muscles burned. "P... Please, mother..." Ezra pleaded. He resisted the urge to twist free, knowing it would only make her meaner. "We have enough. We can go anywhere with that!" he protested.
"Anywhere? Anywhere poor!" Maude snapped. She dropped him to the ground with a thud, ignoring the crack as his knee hit the hard cement walk. She spread her hands, her voice taking on a pleading tone herself. "Is that what you want? Is that how much you love me? You want this old, gentle body that pained and suffered to bring you into this world to live the anguish and humiliation of poverty?" She shook her head sadly. "That must be it. You wish me dead."
"Mother..." Ezra groaned. He knew it was a con. Even at eight he knew his mother was conning him. "It will be enough to get us to the next game." he promised. "There's nothing here. These people spend too much money being nice to everyone." he tried to reason with her. "We'll have better odds at the next game."
Maude rose up suddenly. "Fine, then, my unthankful whelp. You may explain that to Benton."
Ezra's eyes went big. "B... Benton?" he whispered. He glanced about quickly, searching for the dangerous man.
Maude nodded once. "He found us. Now, do you really want to tell him that you were too stupid to wrap your fingers around the money sitting at your little fingertips?" She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. "You know what he will do to me. What he'll do to you."
Ezra dropped his eyes. "But... I don't want to do it... I don't want to hurt Sarah and Mr. Sanchez. It isn't fair. They've been so nice. Please... we have enough. I'll make it more than enough." He held up his hands, as if making an offering. "I won't eat. I don't need to eat. And I'll sleep in the trunk. I'll hustle the lot. I can pick pockets again. I can! I can make more than enough. We can go right now! Benton will never find us!"
"Ezra?" came a voice from inside the bathroom. "J.D.? Where's Ezra?"
Ezra's head snapped about. "Mr. Sanchez." he breathed, almost relieved. They had to go now. It would never work when Josiah found out Maude was still around.
Maude's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing.
"Ezra?" Josiah called again, his voice coming closer.
The woman grabbed her son's arm in a vise like grip, yanking him close to her face, and snarled "Do what you are told, you little fuck! or I will tell Benton all about your little, happy family life. How long do you think sweet, gentle Sarah will survive Benton's attention? Huh? How long you think Josiah and the others will want you around when they find out that it is all your fault that Benton had to kill your precious Sarah?"
Ezra bit his trembling lip, his eyes wide and shiny as he stared up at her.
She was genuinely surprised to see tears well up in the boy's eyes. Maude couldn't remember the last time she had seen him really, honestly cry.
Taken back, she released him and straightened up.
"Ezra!" came Josiah's voice, a hint of frantic sounding. They could hear him banging the stall doors open, looking for him.
Regaining her composure, Maude leaned over her son again. "Tonight. Go to their office. There was a filing cabinet marked Humboldt Bank. It must be their bank files. Get the information. I will come for you tomorrow." She cupped his face in a surprisingly gently hand and she whispered "Do as you are told, my son." Then she spun about and hurried around the corner of the building.
Sniffing, Ezra watched her go. His mind frantically racing, sorting through his mother's words.
Oh, god! What if Benton came after Sarah? What if he hurt her? Or hurt J.D.? He'd seen Benton do it before. He had seen Benton do all sorts of horrible things. He had done horrible things to both Maude and Ezra.
Swallowing hard, the little boy wiped at his eyes, straightened his jacket, and set his jaw. He had made his decision. He would do whatever it takes to make sure Benton never, ever, EVER hurts Sarah...
... even if it meant sacrificing himself to do it.
"Ezra! There you are." Josiah laid a big hand on his son's shoulders. "Where are you running off to, little man?"
Ezra blinked. "Nowhere, Mr. Sanchez." he answered in a dull voice. "Apparently nowhere."
Josiah eyed the boy suspiciously. What an odd thing for such a little guy to say, he thought. Then again, there hadn't been much that Ezra had said that wasn't odd. But there was something else here.
The big man reached out and touched the small cheek with his thumb. "Were you crying?" he wondered.
Ezra flinched, stepping back, his emerald eyes snapping about to lock on the hand.
Josiah sighed. Crouching down in front of him, he set his hand gently on his son's shoulders. "I know this must be hard for you. New place, new folks... you must feel all alone. But you aren't. Sarah and the boys... and me... we're here for you..."
Ezra held his hands up, silencing the man. "Mr. Sanchez! I just fell down! See?" He waved a hand at his torn pant leg over his knee.
Josiah glanced down and winced. "Ow. How did that happen?"
Ezra shrugged as he turned and head back into the bathroom. "Little boy color."
Josiah stopped cold at the words. A sudden anger filled his chest until he could feel his heart shrink back in fear. Every massive muscle in his body went ridged, his fists balled up so tight his knuckles popped and cracked in protest.
Ezra had continued on, unaware of Josiah's change. He wrapped an arm around little J.D.'s shoulders and headed out the other door, starting back for Sarah and her picnic table.
When they were out of ear shot, Josiah snarled "She was here."
Buck stepped out of hiding around the corner. "Ol' man, you gotta take a deep breath. You don't want to go chatting with the boys looking like your head's gonna explode goo all over."
Josiah's head snapped about, his usually soft and caring eyes hard and cold with rage. "She was here! She hurt him! Again! That wasn't a scraped knee. That bitch hurt him!"
"And I would love to go pick up the trail while it's still fresh and slam her prissy butt in jail for it all." Buck quickly explained. "But I am not gonna leave you looking like you're gonna kill something. That's not gonna help Ez any."
Josiah's eyes narrowed.
"Come on, buddy... deep breath, do some meditation somethin', yoga... whatever it takes! But you can not face that boy like this!" Buck continued. "Hell, you're scarin' the britches offa me. What you think you all pinched up and growly is gonna do to Ez? Which, I might point out, is already afraid of you..."
A huge fist suddenly smashed into the cement wall between the two men. So powerful was the blow, that it had crumbled a fist size print into the cement.
Startled, Buck jumped back. "Holy shit!" he cursed, staring at his friend with big eyes.
Closing his eyes, Josiah exhale, letting his excess anger out. After a quiet moment, his eyes opened again, and he pulled back his fist to examine it. "I think I broke a knuckle.
"I sure as hell hope so!" Buck exclaimed. He looked at the damage to the wall. "If you hadn't broke somethin' you ain't even human! Hell, you ain't even a freakin' elephant!"
Josiah turned to him. His voice softer, his eyes calm again, he asked of his friend "Brother Buck, find her. Make sure she never hurts my son again. Anyone's son!"
Buck smiled. "Hey, chasing women is one thing this ol' hound dog does well." He tilted his head in the way the boys had gone. "Go see to your kid's knee... and that knuckle." Assured Josiah was back to his big, teddy-bear self, Buck turned and started off across the park.
There was a Lincoln over there. That was a damn good spot to start.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Buck Wilmington tapped his finger on the steering wheel of his truck. He was getting rather annoyed with all this following around and waiting crap.
First he had followed the Lincoln to the Wabash Hotel, only to find out that, though it had indeed carried Maude there, it had not been her destination. Oh, no, the snake of a woman had walked right on through the hotel and hooked up with her Sedan waiting in the back.
If Buck hadn't looked out the window just at the right time, he would have lost her all together. But, he had always been a lucky S.O.B.
Buck huffed. "Lucky S.O.B. my rosy back side." he grumbled. "If I'd been the lucky one, it'd been my kid and 'Saih would be the one sittin' out..." He paused tilting his head to one side. "It'd be Chris' kid and 'Saih..." Again he paused, before finally shaking his head angrily. "Hell, I'd still be the lucky S.O.B. Me and my big, lovable, sappy self."
Well, there was an up side. What ever happened, he knew Mary would be up and waiting for him with one of her famous cookies, glass of milk, and a demand for information.
With a sigh, he shrugged. "Well, there is that cookie."
Not to mention little Ezra. Buck was with Josiah on this one. He'd fight that woman all the way to hell and back to make sure she didn't ever hurt that child again.
After two hours of what seemed to be mindless driving about, the Sedan pulled in front of an all frills, richi-rich hotel. The door man rushed forward and opened the back door and Maude Standish stepped out.
"About time." Buck grumbled, glancing down at his watch. "Freakin' 7:30... you'd think she'd at least stop for something to eat... or something."
o0o0o0o0o
Maude Standish didn't even notice the doorman as she hurried up the steps to the hotel and, without even glancing to see if the door was going to be opened or not, she walked right through. After all, she looked rich, she walked rich, she smelled rich. The very air around her was rich.
If the door wasn't open by the time she passed through, hell would be had. Not to mention jobs, and, if she raised enough of a stink, perhaps even jail time.
If only they knew who and what she really was.
"Mrs. Grant." greeted the spit and polished manager of the hotel, hurrying forward to take care of this fine lady himself. "Welcome to the grand Paramount Hot...."
"Is my suite ready?" the woman demanded, her tone crisp and immediate. She pulled her long, white gloves off one finger at a time as she walked right by the manager.
"Um..." He hesitated, taken back by the abrupt woman.
Maude's eyes snapped about to slap him with a glare.
Instantly, the man responded. "Yes, of course, ma'am!" He hurried forward, directing her to the private elevator. "I, personally, opened and prepared your suite. Everything that you have asked for is waiting for you... including an unopened, still in the wrapper deck of New Orleans playing cards." He paused to chuckle, before unlocking the elevator and holding the door open for her. "And those were not easy to find."
Maude stepped into the elevator, turned on her toe, cutting him off before he could enter, and held her hand out for the key.
The manager hesitated, but, alas, handed her the key. "Is there any thing else I or the Paramount can do for you, Mrs. Grant?"
"Yes." Maude answered. "Privacy. And, sir?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"If it is ever easy, it is not worth the request." With that said, she let the elevator close.
The manager's eyes narrowed. "Bitch." he hissed, then turned to go back to his station.
"Hey, there."
The man stopped as a big, rancher looking man stepped in front of him. Frowning, he wondered how such a rough looking... person got pass the door man. "May I help you... sir?" he managed, sounding as if he was spitting out something horrible. Hell, he couldn't possibly grind Mrs. high-&-mighty Grant into the ground, but this guy... well, this guy was another matter.
"Um, yea... Names Buck Wi... Standish. I'm lookin' for my wife."
The manager huffed. "Your wife?" he repeated with disbelief. "You are mistaken, sir. There is not a Mrs. Wi... Standish registered here. Perhaps at the Best Western? Or, humph, Motel 8?"
"Really?" Buck pushed his stetson back on his head and throwing on his best Southern accent. "But I jus' saw her goin' on up that there elevator!"
The man's eyes went big. "Mrs. Grant? You must be joking, sir! Mrs. Grant has come to us from Miami on...."
"I'll be damned!" Buck suddenly roared, throwing his hands in the air. Spinning about he stomped off a few feet, before throwing his hands in the air again and crying out at the top of his lungs "Dear lord, have mercy on ma poor, ailin' heart. Ma wonderful girl's gone an' doin' it to me again! Oh, lord, save her, save ma Muady's beautiful soul from her cruel an' evil, black, black heart!"
"Sir!" The Manager rushed forward to try and calm him as the hotel's guests and staff pause to look at the commotion.
But Buck wasn't done. Ripping his arm free, he dropped to his knees and screamed. "Oh, god, why do ya test me so? Why must ma dear wife stray so?"
"Alright!" The manager grabbed him and dragged him to his feet. Smiling and nodding slightly to patrons who stared at the scene, he quickly pulled Buck back behind a large potted plant for some form of cover/ "Fine! tell me this then, sir: if Mrs. Grant..."
"Wilmington." Buck corrected. "My sweet, cruel Maudy Wilmington."
The man shook his head, just trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. "Whatever. If she's your wife, then who's that waiting for her in her suite?"
Buck gasped, stepping back, his hand clutching at his chest. "A man? Already? Oh, dear god.... why does she carry on so? Why must she betray our vows so flagrantly?" He gripped the manager in a vice like grip, begging "Please, sir, oh, so kind sir, you must tell me... did ya... oh, heavens, do ya know.... has she surrendered her.... lord, help me.... her body to him.... Him! this devil who would foul his neighbor's wife?"
The manager blinked. "um... I... I don't think so." he mumbled, shrugging. "I mean, she just got here and...."
Buck threw his head back and began to quote the bible at the top of his lungs. "Oh heavens be... Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that thy neighbor's. Oh.... oooooh, and thou shalt not commit adultery!"
"Alright, alright!" the desperate hotel employee begged. He was ready to do anything to shut the man up, get him out of his hotel, and anywhere else but here!
But then another thought came to mind. Maybe he could stomp Mrs. not-so-high-&-mighty Grant after all. "Bitch." he grinned.
Buck stopped, glancing down sharply at the man. "I beg your pardon?"
The man quickly shook his head. "I understand completely, dear sir. I feel your pain." He glanced around quickly, before directing Buck towards the elevator. "Now, if you promise me.... swear to god... that you will not commit any act of violence on the premises of my hotel...."
"Thou shalt not kill!" Buck quickly agreed.
"Yea, well, blood letting isn't too great either. Just ruins the carpet." He wiggled his fingers in the air at him, giggling as if what he had said was funny... somehow.
And Buck stepped back, frowning. He wasn't sure if this dude was just trying to be cute or, heaven forbid, coming on to him.
The manager pursed his lips and opened the elevator. In hushed tones, he explained "This will take you straight to her room."
"Oh, you are an angle, dear sir." Buck cried. "Thank you, oh thank you."
"No need, Mr. Wilmington." the manager answered with a self satisfied smile. "Can't have any commandment breaking and sinning going on in the grand Paramount Hotel. Not with Motel 8 just down the street to do all that for us." And, with that, he closed the elevator doors and sent Buck Wilmington to the top floor.
0o0o0o0o0
Even after a wasted day, a simple, verbal slap in the face of the local stooge was enough to lift her spirits to all sorts of giddy heights. Oh there was nothing like messing with the little guy. If she died ugly and poor, not a penny to her name, she would die happy knowing that she, Maude T. Standish, had spent not a single breath as a stooge, a yes man, a groupy, the person everyone else paid to step on. No, siree, she was her own woman, her own mast..."
"Benton!" Maude gasped, grabbing the frame of the archway seeking its support.
There he was, laid out on `her' king size bed in `her' suite, tossing `her' hard to get, never before opened New Orleans playing cards into a trash can one at a time. Beside him on the bed was a blue-silver plated 9mm Colt revolver.
"Hey, Maudy. Nice digs." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, girl, you are amazin'!" He paused to belch loudly. Smacking his lips as if tasting the lingering flavor, he asked "Got my money? Or do I gotta go an' mess up that pretty, li'le face of yers?"
Maude swallowed hard, momentarily wondering just how did a rock that big get stuck in her throat.
Benton flipped another card, making a perfect basket, all hoop. "Don't make me ask twice, Maudy."
Maude straightened up again. Brushing at an imaginary speck of dust on her skirt, she continued into the bedroom of the suite. Turning away from him, hoping it would hide her fear, she dropped her gloves on the dressing table. "Really, Benton. Just appearing in a lady's chambers is hardly the means to developing trust and..." She yipped when Benton stuck his boot in her back and kicked, slamming her over the dressing table and into the mirror behind.
Instantly he was on her; one hand was on the back of her head, pressing her face into the mirror, the other grabbed her flailing wrist and pulled it up her back until she cried out. Leaning over her shoulder, he spat in her ear "Where's my money, bitch?"
"Please.... you're hurting me!" Maude cried, tears streaking mascara down her cheeks. "I'll have your money. I will! Tomorrow. The boy... it was his fault! It was Ezra's fault!"
"Really?" Benton twisted her hair, pulling her head back until he could see her eyes. "What the hell da ya think I am, Maudy? That bastard of yers could steal the president's pocket watch right outta his hand an' the secret service not even know he's in town!"
"He chickened out. The little idiot's fallen in love with the family." She tried to shake her head, but Benton's grip tightened.
"An' how'd you solve that li'le problem?"
"I.... I... told him about you."
Benton suddenly released her, stepping back to sit on the side of the bed. With a little, but proud, smile, he asked in awe "An' that worked?"
Her hand on the back of her head, Maude turned to face him. Sniffing, she nodded. "Yes... of course it did." Without his hands on her, her confidence was quickly returning. Taking a tissue from the dressing table, she began to wipe away the tear marks. "My son may be many things, but stupid is not one of them. He knows that he can never out run you. He knows that you are far too smart for him. And he knows what will happen to him if he does not pay up." She nodded. "Ezra will come through for us." she promised.
"For me." Benton corrected. He leaned back, setting his hand on the gun, almost as if he hadn't noticed that it was there.
Maude never missed a beat, smiling her most sparkling best. "Why, of course, my darlin' Benton. I only meant that by bringing the money to you he would be paying my debt."
The big man smirked. "Yea... I bet."
"Ah, Benton, you know I'd never leave you hanging."
Benton laughed. "Yea? Why'd you change hotels? Why'd you registered at eight hotels in this stinkin', little town?"
Maude shrugged. "Options." was her very simple explanation.
Benton opened his mouth for a retort, when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. He leaped to his feet, gun in hand. "Who's that?" he demanded. He threw a glare at the woman. "Who'd you tell you'd be here?"
"No one!" Maude protested. "It's probably just that nosey stooge down stairs, wanting to beg a tip." She held out her hands. "Just stay out of sight. I'll get rid of him." she assured.
"You do that, Maudy." Benton ordered, waving at her with the barrel of the gun. "An' don't you forget that I got this here pistol to make sure that's what you do." He stepped back behind the corner of the bedroom arch.
Maude watched him for a fearful moment , before, gathering her courage, she went to the door. Taking a moment to check her face in the mirror beside the door, she made sure she looked close enough to perfect that no one would ever guess that, only a moment ago, a mad man was threatening to kill her... or still was. Then she opened the door.
"Hiya, Maudy." Buck Wilmington greeted. "How's it going, sweetheart?"
Maude frowned. "Mr. Wilmington. Now what do I owe the displeasure of your company to?"
Buck grinned. "Ah, Maudy, you know I was always your favorite."
"Humph!" The woman turned and walked back into the main room of the suite and to the bar. Pouring herself a stiff drink, she turned back and leaned against the bar. "Is there something I can do for you? Or isn't taking my son from me enough?"
Buck shrugged. Snapping out a paper, he walked into the room and laid it out on the table. Taking out a pen he held it out to her. "All I need is your John Hanncock, sweet cheeks. Then me, myself, I, Josiah and little Ez will be out of your life for good."
Maude tilted her head to one side. "You want me to sign that?" She indicated each noun with a tilt of her glass. Chuckling, she shook her head. "You came far too early, my dear man. This is just my first drink of the evening."
Buck took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked at her, all amusement draining out of every ounce of his body. "What do you want?" he wanted to know, no longer playing any games. This was it. He wanted this over with. For his sake. For Josiah's sake. For the boy's sake.
"What do I want?" Maude glared at him. "I want my son! I want my life! I want what every mother wants: a good life for her son!"
"If you gave a piece of shit for little Ezzy, you'd leave him with 'Saih and never show your face again!" Buck snapped back. Jabbing the pen at her, he continued "You think we haven't seen the bruises? Seen the scars? You've beaten that boy! You've screwed up his head! And you are not going to get him back! Now sign the damn paper or we'll call the cops right here and now!" Putting his hands on his hips, he shrugged. "Easy or rough, whatever melts your chocolate. You ain't getting that boy back!"
Buck heard a metallic click. Turning his head he saw a strange man standing in the bedroom arch, pointing a gun directly at him.
Benton shook his head. "Now, ain't you one dumb ass. Shouldn't o' brought the cops into the chatter."
o0o0o0o0o
Little J.D. leaned his forehead against the big front room window. His hands flat against the glass, he gazed into the dark.
Ezra frowned at the boy. "What is wrong with him?" he wondered, throwing a glance at Vin who sat on the carpet a few feet away playing with long cords of leather. "What is he waiting for?"
Vin huffed. Shaking his head, he answered "Buck ain't back yet. Buck don't go off all night without callin' J.D."
Ezra continued to frown. The concept of a father checking in with his son was foreign to him. Of course, there were quite a few concepts in this odd little family that were foreign to him. He didn't think he would ever fully understand them. Nor should he. In his life, his life with his mother, the one that would began again just as soon as he betrayed these people, there was no room for such concepts.
Still he wanted to know. So, he asked "Why?"
Vin looked at him. "Why what?"
"Alright, boys." Sarah called as she came into the room. "Time for bed."
Obediently Ezra climbed to his feet with a polite "Yes, ma'am."
But Vin protested. "But Sarah…." he started to wine.
"Hey!" Chris growled, stepping around his wife so that he could lean over his son and remind him just what he thought about wining. "But what, young man?"
Vin gave an exaggerated sigh. "Yea, sir." he mumbled, turning away, dragging his feet.
"Yea?" Chris' eye brows raised.
"Yessssss, sir." Vin hissed, tossing his father a smirk, which, in turn, earned him a playful swat on the rear.
"Come on, you little scamp." Sara chuckled, taking her adopted son by the shoulder and directing him toward the hall. She paused to glance back at the last boy. "J.D., sweety?" she called.
But the small boy did not reply, his head never turning away from the window.
"I'll get him." Chris assured, shoeing the others on. Then he turned his attention to the youngest of the household. Stepping over to the window, he peered out into the dark night. Absently he gently dropped a hand down on little J.D.'s head, running his fingers through his thick, black curls.
Not that he would ever admit it, but he was beginning to worry too. No way in hell would Buck let J.D. go to bed with out at last a good night phone call. Didn't matter how pretty the gal, how potent the drink, how tight the cuffs…
Last time one of J.D.'s parents didn't wish him good night, she never came back. His mother was killed that night a year and a half ago. And Buck Wilmington made sure his little man never had to wonder a single night since.
With a heavy sigh, Chris crouched down beside the boy. "Hey, little bit. It's bed time."
J.D. turned those big eyes of his up, pleading with his uncle. "Where's my Da? He don't never not say nighty." He glanced out the window for a moment, then looked up at him again. "Did Da go see… go see my momma?"
"Oh, no, J.D." Chris scooped the child up in his arms and hugged him tight. "No, little bit, Buck's just having a long night. He'll be home soon enough."
"But… but…" He had to pause to sniff. "He didn't say good night."
Chris held J.D. out at arm's length and frowned at him. "How do you know he didn't say good night?" He titled his head to one side. "Has your Da ever never said good night?"
Frowning right back, J.D. shook his head.
"So, just because you can't hear him, doesn't mean he didn't say good night. Because I know and you know that your Da would never not say good night." As if adding the punctuation mark, Chris tapped the end of J.D.'s nose. He was rewarded with a little giggle. "Now, did you tell your Da good night yet?"
J.D. blinked at him, then shook his head.
Chris hefted the small child up onto his hip and pulled back the curtain. Pointing out, he told him "Go ahead then. Say good night."
The boy looked out into the dark. Licking his lips, he called softly "Nighty, Da. Love you." His voice dropped. "Nighty, mamma."
0o0o0o0o0
Ezra pretended to fall right to sleep. He listened to Sarah whisper sweet dreams to Vin, and Vin answer with a whispered "Night, Mom." Through slitted eyes, he watched as Chris carried a nearly asleep little J.D. to his bed, slipping off the Spider Man slippers, tucking him in with his stuffed Woody, the Cowboy.
Their boys tucked in all safe and sound, the two stepped over to Ezra's bed. Ezra laid very still, concentrated on keeping his breathing slow and steady. Chris ran his fingers through his hair. Sarah kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"We're very happy that you're here, Ez, sweety." Sarah whispered to him, apparently not buying his sleeping act. "Have sweet, happy dreams."
Ezra felt a sudden sick pang in his belly.
Then they slipped out, turning off the light and closing the door as they went.
Ezra squeezed his eyes closed, his small fingers gripped his pillow in such a tight grip his fingers hurt.
Why'd she say things like that? Why'd she make him feel like she could actually, just maybe, possibly love him? Could she really, genuinely be nice? To him? He wasn't even her kid.
He could hear his mother's voice echo in his head: "You know better than that, Ezra. No one is nice. Nice is just another con."
He knew he should believe her. He had always believed her before. At least about the world of trust and love and good things. If all Ezra's years taught him anything, it was that a world of trust and love and good things didn't exist.
His mother had always told him that.
Had always shown him that.
Had proved it time and time again.
Still, when Sarah touched his cheek, or when Chris smiled at him, when little J.D. offered him half his cookie, or when Josiah laid a big, strong hand on his shoulder without threat…
Josiah Sanchez… his father.
Ezra shook his head angrily.
It was a lie!
It was all a lie!
It was always all a lie!
Everything was always a lie!
Just do the job and get out.
Get out and away before he started to believe in trust and love and good things.
Get out and away before his mother and Benton reminded him why he could never believe.
o0o0o0o0o0o
Josiah stepped in the front door just as Chris was making his rounds through the house, turning out lights and locking doors and windows.
When Chris looked at him, he shook his head. "No sign anywhere. Checked all the haunts, both Buck's and Maudy's. No one's seen either. Maudy isn't checked in at any of the hotels… least not by any name I know of." He dropped into the couch and kicked his boots off. "I don't know what else to do, Chris. If Buck's hurt hunting down that witch for me…"
"Buck can look after himself." Chris huffed. "No way in hell Buck's leaving J.D. an orphan."
Josiah looked up at him. It didn't take a whole lot of profiling skills to know Chris was trying to assure himself as much as Josiah.
Leaning against the arm of the couch, Chris told his friend "Nothing more we can do tonight. If he doesn't show up by morning, we'll go out in force."
Josiah put his head back and rubbed his hands over his face. With a tired sigh, he admitted "I just can't seem to make sense of the world. Is it that I'm just tired? Or am I in shock? Or…" He groaned.
Chris chuckled. "Well, having a son dropped on your front door step has a habit of turning a man's world up side down and in side out." He pushed off the couch and headed for the front door to check the lock.
"Ezra." Josiah breathed. "I have a son." he whispered as if just realizing who that small person he had spent the day fighting for was. "I never thought that I would have a son… an heir… a future beyond myself…"
A rush of cold air snapped him out of his thoughts. Sitting up Josiah glanced around for Chris, but his friend was gone and the front door stood open.
o0o0o0o0o
Pen light between his teeth, Ezra picked out the proper tools and began work on the lock. Like the office door, the file cabinet lock was simple. It took him only a few seconds and a twist of the wrist before the drawer slid open with a rattle. Standing on his tippy toes, the boy peered into the drawer and began thumbing through the files.
"Something I can help you find, boy?"
Chris Larabee!
Ezra froze, hands still in the drawer. He would have cursed if it wasn't for the pen light between his teeth. He considered dropping everything and running.
But Chris was standing in the door. The man was too big and too fast to get by him.
Maybe he could lie out of it.
But Chris was too smart to fall for some half thought lie pulled out of his hat.
He stood very still when he heard the heavy foot falls as Chris crossed the room to stand beside him. He closed his eyes, every muscle in his little body tense, ready for the beating.
Chris towered over him, considering what to do. After a long, silent moment, he reached around the child and pulled a file out of the drawer.
Ezra flinched so violently at the unexpected move that he stumbled back as if he had actually been hit.
Chris paused, glancing back at him, then continued on to the desk. He took a piece of paper and copied down numbers from the file.
Ezra's eyes darted to the door, judging the distance, estimating the time it would take him to get through it. Did he have enough time before…
"You won't make it." Chris spoke softly, not bothering to look up from his writing.
Ezra felt a flash of panic, but he forced it back. Fine. He couldn't run. Next option. Clearing his throat, he said "I can explain, Mr. Larabee…"
"You will lie." Chris told him before he had a chance to do just that.
"I…" Ezra started to protest, but, a glance from those hard blue eyes stopped him. Swallowing, the boy dropped his eyes. His mind raced through all the possible actions, each was as quickly tossed aside.
Chris was too big. Too strong. Too smart. Too…
His eyes burned. He quickly wiped at them, desperate not to show tears. Again he forced the fear down. "What… what are you doin'?" he asked, his voice cracking under stress.
Snapping the file close, again making Ezra flinch, Chris turned and handed the paper to him.
Ezra stared at the paper, and, when Chris shook it at him, took it. "What is this?" he wondered, reading the numbers written on it.
"What you came for." Chris told him as he put the file away and closed the drawer. "That is the bank account numbers, both business and personal, of the Redwood Guides."
The boy's eyes widen with disbelief. He looked up at Chris. "Why…?" he tried, but the words just didn't seem to be there.
Chris crouched down so he could be eye level with him. "You're a smart kid, Ezra. You know the difference between right and wrong, good and bad. And I'm pretty sure you know the difference between loved and not loved." He tapped the paper with one finger. "You have a choice right here and right now, Ez. You can take those numbers and run, go back to the life you've been living, the one where you think, you expect that a man's first reaction is to beat you." Chris rose up and turned, heading for the door.
Ezra took a step after him. "The other choice?" he wanted to know.
Chris looked back at him. "You can go back into the house, back to the father that loves you. Stay with us, where you will be warm, protected, and very much loved and very much wanted."
"What if…" Ezra started, but stopped. He bit his lip. He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay so badly. Stay with Sarah who wished him sweet dreams, and J.D. who offered half his cookie, and Buck with his big laugh, and Chris with his towering strength, and Josiah with his gentle smile and caring eyes…
But Benton would come. He would kill him. He would kill Sarah. Kill little J.D. and Vin. He would kill them all! Might even kill Chris.
Taking a deep breath, he whispered "What if me stayin' meant bad things will happen?"
Chris shrugged. "You'll be surprised how not so bad bad things seem when you're backed up by a big, overly protective family."
Ezra shook his head, taking another step forward. "Benton's real bad. He's got guns and …." Again he stopped, eyes going big when he realized what he was saying.
Chris frowned. Turning around to face him again, he wanted to know "Ezra, who is Benton?"
0o0o0o0o0o0
Josiah was standing on the front deck, watching as Chris lead Ezra with a steady hand on his shoulder, across the compound and up the steps. With a raised eyebrow, Josiah asked "Little late for a walk about, isn't it?"
Ezra's eyes were locked on the toes of his shoes, looking, for the first time since he had arrived, like a little boy.
Josiah glanced up at Chris.
"Ezra, would you please go wait for your father on the couch." Chris said.
Swallowing, the boy glanced up at them, then, with a single nod, dragged his feet into the house.
When he was out of ear shot, Chris rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans. "I think Buck might have walked in on a mean, Riverboat viper."
Josiah stiffened. "How mean?"
"A son of a bitch named Benton." Chris explained. "Maud partnered up with him a year or something back. Apparently he's a bit of a killer. Has no problem smacking women and kids around. When Maud conned him and cut out, he took chase. He wants his money, he wants payback, and he doesn't give a damn who gets hurt in the process."
"Huh." Josiah shook his head. "Explains why she was desperate enough to come back here." He ran his hands over his face. "Ah, damn."
Chris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yea, well, keeping Ezra safe has just taken on a whole new level." He patted his friend on the shoulder. "Go take care of your kid. Keep him close. I'll call Nathan, fill him in. The Judge will be here in the morning. He can tell us what we can do from there."
Josiah nodded. "Yea…. Yea…" he breathed. Turning, he walked into the house.
Ezra was sitting in the dark on the couch. He looked as if he was somewhere between curling up into a ball and bawling his eyes out and jumping to his feet and making a dash for it. His fingers dug into the couch cushions as if holding himself in place.
Josiah dropped down on the couch beside the boy with a big, heavy sigh. Putting his feet up on the coffee table, he leaned back, and closed his eyes.
Ezra watched him out of the corner of his eye. He still wasn't completely convinced someone wasn't going to start yelling and swinging. He was just waiting, waiting for the other boot to drop and crush him. But when Josiah didn't say anything, when nothing happened, when he couldn't stand it any longer, he admitted "I'm sorry."
"Hmm?" Josiah mumbled, sounding half asleep.
Mustering his courage, Ezra pushed himself to his feet and turned to face the big man. His hands locked together so tightly his knuckles popped. "Mr. Sanchez…" Swallow. "I am sorry for what I have brought down on you and your family."
Josiah opened his eyes and looked at the boy. The tears shimmering in those green eyes broke his heart. Leaning forward, he wrapped his big arms around the thin child.
Ezra stiffened, closing his eyes against the expected wraith. But, when, once more, nothing hurt him, it was just too much. Ezra wrapped his arms around Josiah's neck, buried his face in his chest, and cried.
For the first time that he could remember, he cried. He cried and cried until he cried himself to sleep in his father's arms, warm, protected, loved, and very much wanted.
o0o0o0o0o0o
