Part Seven.

In Chris' opinion, Ezra had not been acting like himself in the days since Annie Evans' death. The gambler had barely been out of his room, and when he had appeared he had gone to great lengths to avoid people.

Chris and the others didn't crowd him, they knew better than to take that approach, especially with the gambler, who was difficult to read at the best of times.

It was four days since Annie Evans had died before them, and the warm orange of the late afternoon sun was casting through the skies, thick with dark grey, menacing clouds. The whole effect was a surreal natural light show, with dark, suppressing colours overhead and yet warm oranges and reds playing through the chinks and across the yellow ground. Chris, standing on the boardwalk beside Josiah, nodded his head towards the red-jacketed figure crossing the street further down.

"Think he'll be ok?"

The tall preacher shrugged,

"You know Ezra," he replied, with a shrug, "It's up to him. Something about that woman shook him up like I ain't see no one do. I don't what's going on in his head."

Chris nodded, his face tight and firm. He had no idea what Ezra was going through, and even less of an idea how to change his black mood.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ezra knew they were watching him, and he didn't like it. Things were hard enough for him to figure out without the other six constantly keeping tabs on him and asking how he was. He sighed, letting go of his frustrations as he realised that at least now he had someone to show concern for him. The other six men were a family to him, not that he'd ever admit it to them, or, truly, himself. Annie had tried to fill the role of his mother, but she couldn't do it. Ezra was a lot of things because of his mother, but self-sufficient and independent was one of the things he'd taught himself to spite her. Annie had tried to take what few barriers he had built away, and terrified him at the same time.

"Mr. Standish!"

Ezra turned. A small man clinging onto small-rimmed spectacles was running across the street towards him, holding a flapping letter in his hand and clutching at something under his arm.

Ezra stopped as the man puffed up to him, still flapping the letter. After a brief respite he paused, took a deep breath, and hitched up his glasses.

"Mr. Standish?" he asked again, giving a sigh of relief as Ezra nodded, "Good. This…" he produced a book from under his arm, waving it around before Ezra's face, "…was left to you by the late Miss. Evans. Not stated in her will, but left among her personal effects might I add," he sniffed, clearly put out by the violation. Eventually, after sensing no similar response of outrage in the gambler, he handed the book over and turned sharply on his heel like a soldier and walked off.

Ezra let his surprise sink in, and ran a thumb over the worn leather cover of the thick volume, almost afraid to open it. His fingers played along the binding, before finally he took a chance, and opened up the volume.

It was a diary, a notebook of thoughts, events and what looked like poetry. He let a smile of genuine surprise slide across his face as he let each page paint another picture of the Annie Evans he thought he'd known, and who in death was still surprising him.

As the pages flicked past his fingers, a note written on the first page caught his eye. The ink seemed a darker colour here, as if the scribblings were new. He narrowed his eyes to look at them.

"Never let anything in the past destroy your future. Learn from your mistakes to improve the decisions to come. Life is what you make it. Make it good."

He smiled. A wide grin forming on his face as he let the words sink in, and fill his heart. As thunder rumbled off somewhere in the distance, Ezra let his gaze drift upwards to the clouds. As he did, his eyes caught something that was floating down, towards him, swinging back and forth on the breeze. He blinked as it rocked past his eyes and dropped to his feet.

It was a large white feather.

He bent down to pick it up carefully, watching each individual soft white branch ruffle in the wind. Involuntarily, the grin spread back across his face, and he looked up at the sky with a knowing smile.

Life was whatever he made it.

He was going to make it good.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

JD joined Chris and Josiah on the side of the boardwalk, sticking his hands into his pockets, and using his head to gesture towards Ezra.

"He gonna be all right?"

Josiah watched as Ezra bent to pick something up from the ground, a smile spreading over his face.

The preacher sighed, a relieved smile of his own forming.

"You know. I think he will be. I think he will be."