Part Three.

To say Chris had been surprised to find Annie Evans preparing breakfast for Ezra would have been an understatement. He and Vin were seated at a table in the corner of the saloon, watching as the rising sun cast ever-changing shadows across the dusty floor.

They watched the woman setting up a table setting of some sort for a while before asking what she was doing, her reply, when it came, was grudging, suspicious, and angry. Everything they had expected, and yet, not quite what they had expected at all.

"Can't you people mind your own business? I'm making breakfast for Ezra Standish."

As she bustled back into the recesses of the building to prepare the food, Chris and Vin shared startled glances, each man fairly speechless.

Ezra too seemed fairly surprised as he clunked sleepily down the stairs, eyes still drooping groggily in the glare of the morning sun.

"I trust the morning finds you well gentlemen," he drawled lazily, heading slowly towards him,

Vin looked up at him,

"Well the morning finds you with your own cook," he waved his hand, indicating the table setting, and Ezra turned, spotting the arrangement and groaning.

Chris' eyes narrowed in unamused confusion,

"What's going on Ezra?"

The gambler removed his hand from his face in exasperation and flapped his hand at them warily.

"As soon as I find out, you'll be the first to know," he muttered, taking up a glass and bottle from the bar, and heading to take a seat at their table.

The doors to the back of the saloon banged open, and Annie walked in holding a large jug and a steaming bowl of something, which she set down carefully at the empty table she had prepared in Ezra's absence.

As the smell of the food wafted past his nose, Ezra tried not to retch, the thought of food so close to having woken up making him feel decidedly fragile.

"Come on Mr. Standish," Annie's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp, but at the same time tender, like a scolding mother, only the formality of his surname standing out.

Ezra kept his back to her, raising a hand and using the other to cup at his head in weariness.

"I regret to inform you madam, that food so soon after waking leaves a lot to be desired. Although I'm...appreciative of the effort."

Annie's hands moved to her hips, and a frown spread across her face.

"Don't be ridiculous! Breakfast's the most important meal of the day. Stop being silly and sit down and have something. Come on!"

Chris and Vin blinked at Annie's attitude, exchanging looks of pure bewilderment. As Ezra remained silent, and took up the bottle to pour himself another drink, Annie almost growled,

"Ezra Standish! You come and have breakfast now! You hear me son?"

Everyone stopped as an awkward silence fell over the already quiet establishment, and slowly, Ezra turned to Annie, a slight frown flickering across his face at her expression. Her face was pale, and she seemed to have shocked herself with her outburst.

When Ezra spoke, his voice was calm with a slight edge of warning,

"I am not your son madam, and until I become so, I will not take orders from you. Now, I appreciate your efforts, but please, I have no need for a servant. You do not owe me anything, so do not try to repay me."

Something inside of him was being pushed, something that didn't usually happen unless his mother was around. He felt, helpless, controlled, repressed even, and, along with these feelings, was something else. Annie Evans was getting to him, but she wasn't annoying him, she was unnerving him.

Here she was, this, stranger, performing tasks he had dreamt of his mother doing for him ever since he was a tiny boy. Tidying, preparing, cooking. Mothering. It was as if someone had listened to his childhood pleas and answered them decades later, only, instead of rosy cheeks, and a warm smile, Annie Evans had been thrown into his life, and, as someone who had struggled for the best part of his adult life to leave his confusions about his mother him, it was making Ezra feel as though someone had found his Achilles' Heel, and was chipping away at it.

He didn't feel in control, and he couldn't handle it. He stood up, draining his drink and donning his hat in rather a grand gesture.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see you around Miss. Evans. Gentlemen."

The swing-doors flapped behind him as he breezed out, and Vin turned slowly to look back at the elderly lady. Her eyes were clamped shut, and she suddenly seemed to be swaying unsteadily on her feet. She gripped at the table for support and Vin slowly stood.

"Miss. Evans?" he asked softly.

Her eyes flew open in response, eyeing him coldly.

"I don't need your charity Mr. Tanner," she spat, however her gaze softened as she turned to look at the swinging doors, and Chris narrowed his eyes as he looked at her watery eyes, shimmering with unshed tears. As she put a hand to her eyes and turned to scurry from the room, he shared a look with Vin.

Something was up.