Chapter Four.

The day that followed the dramatic events of the night was much the same as the one before it, perforated with the constant squabbles of Danielson and MacReedy, who, consumed by new realms of greed, were fighting over whose land it was that had the gold in it.

Danielson, when not engaged with his sparring partner, was, in his own words, "a-lookin' out," which, as far as Ezra could follow, comprised of taking pot-shots at what ever moved, including rabbits, birds and assorted shrubbery.

By the time the trio reached the outskirts of the town, the last rays of warmth were beaming down, creating long shadows, and bright patches of heat in the late afternoon sun.

"Your land! Why would anyone be stupid enough to put gold on your land?"

Ezra rolled his eyes as the illogical, yet scornful voice of Danielson rang out loud.

There were passing rough buildings, wooden structures pieced together unevenly, and at the sound of the heated voices, small faces were peering through the windows, and people out sweeping their steps were turning to look as the row passed them by.

As the trio headed for the centre of the town, Ezra turned to hiss at the pair, keen not to draw too much attention, and therefore, trouble.

"I believe this would be a conversation best suited to 'when' and not 'if' something of value is found on either of your areas of ownership. Until then, I would greatly appreciate your co-operation in keeping as low a profile as possible."

Both Danielson and MacReedy stared at him open mouthed, and he nodded at them,

"Thank you."

However, when Ezra turned back around a voice broke out across the empty street, a voice that told Ezra his long speech had been a wasted effort, because trouble had found them already.

"So, got yourself a fancy little gun have you?" the voice was accompanied by a figure riding a tall bay horse, and three others who flanked him as he trotted into the street.

At once, doors around them shut as fearful inhabitants took shelter from what was headed their way.

Ezra's hand went slowly to his gun, his hand sitting on his hip as he pushed back his jacket and eyed the newcomers closely,

The man who had spoken turned to a similar looking man beside him, who then took on the task of group spokesperson.

"You shot Brannigan,"

He was looking at Danielson, who kept a stony silence. MacReedy however, pointed a shaking finger in Ezra's direction which the gambler ignored coolly.

Danielson spoke up,

"Yeah, and we'll shoot the rest of you good fer nothins' too," with that, he took aim and fired.

As the gun clicked uselessly, Ezra cursed the farmer's earlier trigger-happy approach, and the resulting lack of bullets. Danielson too seemed to quake as he realised he was defenceless.

As Ezra threw his eyes to the heavens, the four men in front of him began to laugh, and Danielson turned a mortified shade of crimson.

It was as they were all beginning to contemplate the next move, that, to the surprise of everyone, MacReedy drew a gun from his saddlebag with surprising speed, and fired towards the group.

It was a remarkably speedy assault that shocked everyone. However, for all its speed, there was a distinct lack of accuracy, and the bullet thudded uselessly into a metal trough, ricocheting back towards the three.

Ezra tipped sideways off his horse with a groan as the bullet caught him across the side, and rolled slowly onto his back with a gasp, the dust sticking to his neat black coat.

Danielson couldn't hold back his anger,

"You shot him! You idiot! I promised you I'd shoot you!"

The two Ross brothers found the whole scene fairly amusing, and one of them called to the panicking farmers with a laugh,

"You don't got no bullets left!"

Danielson flushed again.

It was as Ezra rolled over to face the four riders that he noticed the saloon behind them. Perched on top of the roof was a large wooden sign, alerting the townspeople to the presence of the establishment. Also, more importantly, it was fastened with a thick rope that threaded back to a ring embedded in the roof. A rope that was frayed.

Slowly, the Ross brothers and their accomplices stopped laughing, and drew their guns,

"Well, this has been fun and all, but we want our land now,"

At that moment, Ezra, trying to ignore the pain in his side, and resolving to shoot MacReedy himself were Danielson not to beat him to it, took his own gun, and fired up at the thin rope.

Everyone stopped for a moment, trying to work out whose gun had gone off, and where the target was. However once the Ross brothers realised that none of their company were injured, they smirked once more, aiming again at the two farmers, and laughing at their continued fortune.

That however, was a mistake. As they cackled to one another, the sign for the saloon lurched forward, and came crashing down upon them, taking them from view.

Danielson and MacReedy looked over in astonishment as the gambler tried to pull himself to his feet.

MacReedy looked fairly embarrassed, the gun still limply in his hand,

"Err...I...err..."

Ezra held up a hand,

"Please, Mr. MacReedy, lets not make the situation any worse."

Danielson reached over to swat at his neighbour,

"You idiot! I bet he's in shock,"

They both scrambled down from their horses to rush towards him. MacReedy seemed clueless,

"How'd we stop that then?"

Danielson put a hand to his chin, deep in thought,

"I know," he suddenly decided, raising his finger into the air. At that moment, Ezra, for the first time in his life, wished that Nathan was there to attend to him. He tried to quell any ideas that were brewing by shaking his head,

"I'll be fine gentlemen, I assure you,"

However Danielson over-ruled him quickly, grabbing his arm,

"No no, it's an old remedy. My pa told me...or at least I think it was him..."

Ezra began to feel a sense of dread rising as Danielson continued,

"...Now, we just need ourselves a stream..."

ooooooooooooooooooo

Well, only one chapter left after this one...poor Ezra, I am mean to him!

Anyway, please review! Thanks!