Amor Vincit Omnia

by FourSilverArrows

Ezra helps Casey after an accident and then must face J.D.'s anger. Deals with a permanent disability and graphic medical procedures.

Amor Vincit Omnia

Beta: Jigamarootoo
Spoilers: Lady Killers, Pilot, Witness, Probably more
Disclaimer: I do not own Mag7 characters and do not seek to profit.
Edited for scene breaks - I just couldn't stand it.

-------

Casey Wells was mad as fire as her eyes scanned the town street for J.D. Dunne. She glanced at the loaded wagon waiting for her by Watson's Hardware and then back to the sidewalks. She didn't have time to wait for the young sheriff. She had promised Nettie Wells that she would be back home by sundown.

The seven peacekeepers of the town guarded the surrounding area, but at the same time, they seemed to draw criminals and confrontations with an alarming regularity. Better to be secure in the home she shared with Nettie than traipsing around the countryside in the twilight hours.

She huffed out a frustrated sigh and reluctantly crawled up to the wagon seat to take off the brake. She gathered the worn leather reins in her hands and clicked her tongue. "Hi-up, Sadie, Clover."

At her voice, the two dust brown mares hitched to the wagon tensed their muscles and jerked the loaded wagon into a smooth roll down the rutted street and out of town.

-------

J.D. Dunne ran as hard as his legs would carry him from his room at the boarding house. Yesterday he asked Buck to wake him so he could meet with Casey to ride with her back to Nettie's place. It was just his luck that Buck changed his duty time with Josiah and forgot to tell the preacher to wake J.D. Currently locked up in one of the rent-per-minute rooms over the saloon with the new working gal, Buck never fulfilled his duty.

'Please, please, please, still be here,' J.D. chanted in his mind as he skidded up to the general store and peeked in.

The only person in sight was Mrs. Cleary from a small farm from outside of town.

J.D. ripped his prized bowler hat off and flung it to the boards in disgust. He circled his hat on the wood with sharp steps with his two hands clutching the white handles of his guns. His mother would have scolded him if she were still on the Earth to hear the caustic words coming lowly and vehemently from his mouth.

He would never live this down with Casey. With all that had happened with the lady bounty hunters, things were finally getting back on track between him and the willful tomboy. She knew how he felt about her and he was positive how she felt about him, but this give and take of a relationship was new to him.

They were new enough in the feelings that missteps like this seemed insurmountable obstacles in the way of their love. Even the smallest slight felt like a mortal wound to their hearts.

He angrily picked up his hat and dusted it for a moment before jamming it on his head and heading to the saloon to seek out one of the others to say he would be out of town for a while.

A good citizen of the town who thought it was a wonderful time to complain waylaid him before he could make the boardwalk. J.D. suffered through the farmer's rant about the neighbor's bad habit of stealing good farm equipment out of his barn.

J.D. let his gaze go to the edge of town and sighed. He was going nowhere but to look into the thieving of a certain man at a nearby farm. Talking to Casey would just have to wait.

-------

While six of his companions in justice paraded around town looking for 'bad elements,' Ezra Standish was looking for 'bad elements' out in the bad elements.

He was about a mile from town and it was about hot enough to bleach all the red color right out of his favorite jacket.

Ezra was on the last leg of his circuit around the countryside. The trip had taken most of the day and a lot of his energy as the heat leeched out his strength.

The gambler took off his black hat and fanned himself briefly before deciding it was no use to try to battle back the heat of the day. He resettled his hat on his newly cut dark chestnut hair and looked around with squinted light jade eyes.

Ezra was a few feet off the wagon rutted track that most of the farmers, ranchers and stagecoaches used to get to town. He slowly reined his horse around for a 360-degree view of his surroundings and saw nothing but grass, brush and rocks.

He was about to move on to his next stop when the rattling of harness and wood caught his attention. Ezra turned his head to see Miss Wells and her wagon appear from behind a low-lying hill.

Ezra straightened up in his saddle and swept off his hat again, holding it over his heart. He was still a little unsure of how to act around the young lady since her recent unhappiness with J.D. and the bounty-hunting woman.

He snorted to himself. The glass of libations that adorned his face as the petite girl stormed from the saloon hadn't helped a thing. In Ezra's confusion after his confrontation with Casey, all he could gather from Vin Tanner was that the girl had been looking to 'sow some wild oats' to have a little revenge on J.D.

Since the incident, he hadn't had a chance to talk to the girl in private about what happened.

"Hey, Ezra!"

Ezra let out a relieved breath. Apparently, all was forgotten since J.D. was back to sparking her energetically. "Miss Wells. How is it you are all alone here in this vast nothingness?"

Casey looked at the handsome gambler for a moment and then absently flipped a braid that peeked out from under her hat over her working clothes clad shoulder. "Oh, that J.D. was supposed to come with me. I swear I don't know if he's a-comin' or a-goin' most of the time."

Ezra relaxed a little in his saddle and replaced his hat. "I'm sure the young man will steady up before long. It takes a while for a young man to break himself to the harness, so to speak."

"I suppose," she muttered as she played with the leather in her hands.

Ezra turned his chestnut horse to keep pace with the wagon as it jarred down the road. "If you don't mind, I'll see you to Mrs. Wells' property line."

The dark haired, dark eyed girl smiled with such an inner glow that Ezra felt happy to be near her to see it. "Sure, Ezra. It would be right nice for a gentleman to show me home."

Ezra bowed his head and touched his black hat brim with his left forefinger. "A gentleman to the last, Miss Wells . . . to the very last."

-------

An old Indian, so old that his eyes were dim and his step was slow, walked the side of the white man's road. His body appeared bent, his hands curled inward with age and his flesh hung on him like oversized laundry.

He didn't know where the white man's road led, but wherever it ended would be his final resting place. One last journey across the land of his father and his father's father before he took his final step into the next life and joined his ancestors.

He had no one. His wife of many summers was dead to the lung spirits and his three sons scattered to the winds, joining what bands of roaming young warriors that still clung to the old ways of the forefathers.

He no longer used a name when he met others in his journey. He was the dirt, the sky, the sun – none of these things needed names, so who was he to be so arrogant?

The wind picked up, blowing his long graying hair into his face.

He felt a pain in his gut and stopped his walking to place a trembling hand over it.

The old man raised his eyes from his pain to the wandering white man's road and then sighed.

The distance was too great and his time was now. He would never see what lay at the end of the road.

As he moved to leave the road and walk toward the surrounding trees, the pain grew until his breath was gone and his vision was dim.

He didn't even see the dusty ground as it came up to met him.

-------

The wind kicked up plumes of dust from the wagon road that Casey traveled and she looked at the sky to see gathering clouds. "Ezra, looks like a gully washer a-comin'. We need to get out to the house as fast as we can."

Ezra studied the low hanging sky and its dark slate color. "I believe you are right." He may not have the weather sense of Vin Tanner or even Chris Larabee, but he knew a potential danger to his wardrobe when he saw it.

Ezra came out of his contemplation by a sharp yell from Casey Wells as she whipped up her team into a gallop, bouncing the supplies in the back of the wagon from side to side.

"Miss Wells! I don't think that's such a good idea—"

As the warning left his mouth, Casey cleared a gentle bend in the road lined with trees and came hard upon an old Indian in the middle of the road. She shouted at the old man and pulled hard on the reins to guide her horses to the right to miss the human body.

The old man didn't hear her or the jangling wagon. His mind was on other things as his soul left his body, leaving the flesh to fall to the ground in a heap. His old walking stick fell to one side and his small pack of dried meat and berries fell to the other. His old, watery eyes peered sightlessly into the dark, stormy sky.

Casey Wells didn't have time to notice that the old man was now on the ground. Her team left the relatively flat surface of the road and began to run in the grassy hills. As they angled up the slope, the barrel of flour and the barrel of cornmeal shifted their weight in the back of the wagon. Twine snapped with sounds like gunshots, spilling the load of supplies from its neat packing.

Gravity began to drag at the wagon. The now lighter right side on the upslope was slowly tipping upward, its wheels barely touching the uneven ground. The heavier left side was starting to dig into the grass and soil, leaving a rut behind to blaze the hectic flight of the horses.

The front left wheel finally hit a rock in its path. It wasn't a large one, but just enough to disturb the delicate balancing act. The right side of the wagon went high into the sky as the left side nosed into the ground. The horses screamed as wood and leather snapped around them, dragging them down.

Casey screamed as the ground leaped up as she fell forward into the harnesses of the struggling horses.

It was over in a second. If Ezra had blinked, he would have missed it all. He took in the carnage with startled green eyes as he stood in his stirrups as if to go to Casey's aid when the whole mess began.

Even his quick reflexes as a gambler left him wanting as he didn't even have time to urge his horse forward.

Time came back to him as the wagon and horses suddenly stopped.

He flung himself from his horse and ran to the pile of wood, leather and horseflesh. At first, all was quiet. Everyone involved in the accident was stunned into silence.

Just as Ezra reached the wreck, air returned to the horses and they began to kick and roll, trying to regain their footing. Almost immediately after that, a high-pitched scream from a human throat joined into the chaos.

The female scream raked nails down Ezra's back as he drew his boot knife to cut the traces of the horses.

"Casey, darlin', where are you?" His voice was also high and strained.

The top horse was writhing on its back, all four legs waving in the air. Ezra dove at the horse and began cutting as quickly as he could as he dodged the flying hooves. When he was done, he laid into the horse with all of his weight trying to push the horse off the pileup. The mare rolled over with a flip and scrambled to her feet, snorting out air and shaking her coat.

Ezra forgot the first horse as soon as she was away from the wreck. He looked down to see where to cut next and froze.

Under the heavy weight of the second horse was Casey Wells.

Blood smeared the hide of the horse nearest to the girl. With every kick of the horse, Casey screamed.

Ezra had seen many things in his life, from beaten saloon girls to carnage on the battlefield. Nothing made him want to throw up as much as this frail girl being crushed under the weight of a panicked horse.

Casey's already pale skin was the color of powdered flour and her usually rosy lips were as white as her skin. Her hair was coming out of its braids in long strands.

Ezra pulled his gun and then stood unsure of what to do. The horse was franticly rolling on top of the young lady, causing her great pain and damage, but if he shot the horse, he would have the Devil's own time getting the damn thing off her.

He took two seconds to think about it and then raised his hip gun to shoot the horse between the eyes. Blood sprayed from the mare's nostrils, the muscles locked and the legs straightened out in death. The horrible movement came to a sudden halt with the dead weight of the horse pinning Casey to the ground.

"Casey, darlin'," Ezra whispered as he put up his gun and scrambled to her side. The girl lay on her back in the midst of leather harness, wood splinters and scattered supplies. Covering her left side and most of her legs was the dead mare. Casey's dark eyes were now closed and her breathing was a harsh sound in the relative silence.

Blood shown wetly on the mare's amber coat and Ezra ran a hand over Casey's body to find the source of it.

As he ran his hand down her neck and left shoulder trying to get to her pinned left arm, he found the blood he was looking for.

He pulled his hand out to see the bright red stuff dripping from his fingers.

"Oh, Casey." He stood and surveyed the destruction trying to think of something, anything he could do.

He spotting the freed mare a little ways away still looking put out by her ordeal. Not far away from her was his own horse with pricked ears that flicked for each sound that Ezra made.

He turned suddenly and started to ransack the supplies, looking for the rope that usually sat tucked in the wagon under the seat. Ezra knew this from the times he had rummaged around in the wagon when no one was looking. What was the harm in looking; it wasn't as if he was going to steal anything.

What rope he found in the pile wasn't terribly long, but it was long enough for his needs.

Ezra built a loop on one end and approached the confused wagon mare. She snorted at him as he uttered soothing sounds to calm her. After a moment of persuasion, she allowed him near enough to throw the loop over her head and lead her back to the wagon.

"Lord, give me strength to do this. I shan't ask you more for the next year if you help me in this," he muttered as he backed the heavy mare up to her dead wagon mate.

He pulled the two hind legs of the dead mare together and tied the free end of the rope to them. Ezra then struggled with the heavy wagon mare to get her turned around so she could throw her shoulders into the task of pulling the bulk off the suffering girl.

"Casey, if you can hear me, this will be painful. Lord, I know it will, but hold on for me. We don't have time for anything else—"

He cut his own words off as he turned and smacked the living mare with the palm of his hand to get her moving. She snorted in surprise and threw her weight against the rope tied to her neck. She balked when she felt the resistance on the other end, but was urged to pull again by Ezra.

The human scream was horrible as the heavy weight of the mare was dragged across the broken body of Casey Wells. Ezra steeled his nerves and refused to look at the girl until the deed was done.

After hearing the sound of horsehide scraping the ground, he cut the rope on the living mare and frightened her into a gallop away from the accident. Ezra faintly hoped that the mare would run to the comfort of her lodgings at the Wells' property. It would be an added bonus if the lone animal alerted the old woman to trouble with her niece.

Forgetting the mare for now, he turned back to Casey and almost lost his late lunch of whiskey and biscuits onto the grass. He closed his eyes against the horror as the skin of his face, neck and shoulders turned hot and a sick feeling ran from the bottom of his stomach to the top of his throat.

Ezra swallowed hard and tried to control his breathing. If there was one thing he would not tolerate from himself it was the act of disgracing himself by throwing up. Just the feeling of being out of control, with his neck muscles working outside his mind's command, was abhorrent to him. The smell and the mess afterwards were also very good reasons to steady himself.

He took a last deep breath and turned to the slim girl. Despite his silent demands for his body to obey him, he turned quickly and lost his last meal. The sudden rush of the partially digested stomach contents made his head pound and his eyes to water. When he was done, he took out his ever-present whiskey flask and a handkerchief and wiped his face and mouth clean.

Ezra turned back to Casey with weak knees and trembling hands.

'Lord, give me strength . . . and if you can, give me Nathan Jackson,' he whispered in his mind as he lightly touched the girl on her forehead and his eyes swept her body.

Her left arm was horribly twisted above the elbow, blood coating the ground and the material of her long sleeved boy's work shirt. There were rips in her shirt and her pants, showing the boy's long underwear she wore underneath.

In more of the tears than not, there was blood.

"Casey, I'll be right back. I need to find some things."

She didn't move or speak, so he rubbed her forehead and then turned away to search his saddlebags and her scattered supplies for something that would be of use in this hour of need.

With a roll of thunder, stray raindrops began to fall.

-------

J.D. stood at the edge of town looking at the darkening sky. It only added to the gathering darkness of nightfall. The wind picked up and raised a cloud of street dust that was again beat down by the rising moisture and raindrops that scattered from the clouds.

The youngest member of The Magnificent Seven, protectors of this little piece of the West, grew concerned. He pulled up the collar of his brown suit jacket and hugged himself against the wet wind.

Ezra Standish, the resident gambler, was overdue to return to town by almost an hour.

J.D. turned slightly to look at his leader, Chris Larabee, as the grim man leaned against one of the last posts at the end of the town with a cheroot in his mouth. The cheroot between his lips wasn't lit. He was trying to cut back on the habit seeing as how Mary frowned on him smoking around her or her son, Billy.

"Whatcha think, Chris?" asked J.D. softly.

Chris Larabee frowned around his cheroot. At any given moment, he liked to be certain of where his men were, in town and out.

Vin Tanner was in the jail watching the thief J.D. had dragged into town, who was now waiting for trial by Judge Travis. Josiah Sanchez was helping Nathan Jackson at the clinic with a cowhand who accidentally tore off his right thumb in a roping accident at one of the nearby ranches. Buck Wilmington was done with the new working gal at Digger's. He was currently trying to catch a few winks at the table in front of the saloon. J.D. Dunne was right beside Chris, looking at the coming storm with nervous energy that he was trying to contain in the presence of his idol.

Ezra Standish . . . well, Ezra was the reason they were both at the edge of town looking at the storm.

"Don't know, J.D. Maybe he stopped off to get some supper at one of the farms."

J.D. turned from Chris to look at the horizon. "Maybe. Or could be trouble."

"Not always in trouble, J.D."

J.D. snorted, sounding a lot like Buck. Chris took a moment to contemplate how much the youngster was beginning to mirror his tutor to the West. Maybe in a few years J.D. would grow a mustache . . . Chris smiled to himself at the mental image. "More likely than not."

Chris took the unlit cheroot from his mouth and put it back in his shirt pocket under his black, flowing duster. His right hand then moved back the right side of the duster to touch his gun that rested in the black and silver holster that rode high on his hip.

"Trouble," sighed Chris. Would there be a day with these men that they didn't see some kind of trouble?

"Go get Buck up, J.D." J.D. turned to hurry away when Chris's voice stopped him cold. "And see if Nathan is freed up yet. May need him."

With a nod, J.D. ran to do as his leader asked.

-------

Ezra was slowly settling down in the face of the accident as his mind went to old days almost forgotten. Thirteen long years spent drinking, conning and gambling were almost enough to dim the memory of filthy field hospitals and amputation tents. Still, The War Between the States lingered in the shadows, ready to grasp him at unguarded moments like this. Images of bloody places that literally cut the souls out of men like the bone saws cut away flesh and bone came up behind his green eyes.

He had placed the scavenged supplies to the side as he carefully lifted the girl from the ground to a spread blanket to get her out of the grass and dirt. With her on her back, he reached to the pile of stuff and got out three new wool blankets. Ezra began placing the blankets to elevate Casey's limbs in an attempt to slow down the bleeding from various gashes and cuts in the skin. The left arm he left alone for now, as he hadn't quite made up his mind on how to handle the disfigured limb.

He took a moment to get the container of vinegar that had somehow escaped breaking in the accident and steeled himself. Ezra tipped it to pour the caustic fluid onto the open wounds and listened with a shuddering heart to the gasps it brought from Casey.

The gambler swallowed back his rising fear. The gasps were a horrible sound that echoed back to bloody days on the battlefield. With supplies short at the end of the war, the worn out Confederates had learned to use whatever was at hand for wounds. Vinegar was one substituted item that Ezra had a clear memory.

Ezra then opened his silk handkerchief and being sifting the flour into the various free flowing cuts and wounds to slow down the girl's bleeding. White powder quickly turned red as the blood tried to move the temporary dams. Ezra went back to the busted barrel for more flour. By the time the bleeding slowed down, the cuts were packed with gummy red flour.

With that tended, Ezra turned to carefully look over her face and scalp for problems and found a slight wound in her hair just over her left eye. He blotted it lightly with vinegar and tied a piece of store bought cloth around her head. The bold red and white check pattern contrasted markedly with her pale, moist features.

Blushing slightly to himself, he tried to determine if there were breaks in her bones. His sensitive hands ran over her ribcage and abdomen then moved them over her legs and right arm. Nothing was poking the skin from the inside, but he really couldn't be sure.

The last chore he set himself was to look at the left arm. He once again took out his boot knife and carefully cut the bloody material away from Casey's arm at the shoulder. He gasped loudly at the sight of the twisted thing that lay revealed before him. He dropped his knife and put his bloody hands to his face, smearing his face with the red stuff of her life.

"Lord, lord, she's so young. Don't take this away from her. She's just too young—"

As the same time he was muttering, he was taking off his coat and vest. He tossed them to the ground and took off his suspenders. Ezra hesitated for a second before bending back to his task of stopping the bleeding from Casey's left arm.

"Forgive me," he whispered to the closed eyes as he tightly wrapped the suspenders high up on her left arm, cutting off the main artery that provided the blood to the tissues of her arm. Almost immediately, the blood reduced in volume. He did no more with the arm. There was no way he could set the bones or sew up the torn flesh. That was for someone more skilled than he was in art of medicine.

"Nathan . . . now would be a good time to show yourself," he whispered against the dark wind. Rain began to fall with more force causing Ezra to lean over Casey's face to offer some protection. "Damn, as if the child doesn't have enough trouble."

As the spilt flour and cornmeal became lumps of mush in the grass, Ezra's mind worked overtime on how to get help for Casey Wells.

-------

Nettie Wells looked out of her open doorway and into the darkness and rain. Casey was well overdue in getting back with the supplies that were to last them the next three months.

The old woman who spoke her mind, with or without approval of others, picked up her long gun and reached for her hat on the wall peg.

As she stepped out with a lantern in her left hand and the gun resting in the crook of her right arm, the beating of hooves could be heard in the night. She sat down the light and readied her gun as the sound grew closer.

From the darkness that pressed in on the circle of light thrown from the lantern raced a worn out mare trailing the remnant of a rope and leather harness from a wagon.

"Ho! Ho up now, Clover!" yelled Nettie as she stepped in the mare's path and held up her left hand.

Nettie only took time enough to make sure it was indeed Clover and to hobble the horse with leather hobbles that hung from her porch. She then went for the old saddle that she kept in the back room.

No matter the rain and no matter the darkness, somewhere out there was her flesh and blood in a heap of trouble and Nettie Wells would stop for nothing or no one until she found Casey.

Casey'd damn well better be alive or there would be hell to pay from those that caused her harm.

-------

The darkness and the rain were making it difficult for Chris, Nathan, Buck and J.D. to muddle through and ponder on where Ezra Standish had hidden himself.

Vin Tanner, the group's tracker, had tried to make a case that he should tag along, but Chris told him to stay with the prisoner. There wasn't much tracking to be done in the rain soaked terrain.

Josiah Sanchez was staying with the injured cowhand. Nathan left him some wolfsbane tea to keep the cowhand sedated and some extra lint bandages in case the bleeding began again. Josiah prayed that the expected fever would not come about from the sewn flesh around the place where the man's thumb used to be while the healer was off looking for Ezra.

The four men on the road stopped to look around. Rain pattered through the tree limbs and rustled the leaves. The only other sounds were from the horses stamping their hooves in irritation at being rousted from their warm stalls to trek around the countryside.

"I had the last route through here yesterday. Didn't see anything out of the ordinary," remarked Nathan as he tried to pierce the gloom with his dark eyes. The clouds were coving up the starlight and the moonlight.

"Well, things happen right quick out here. Something could have happened when Ezra rode this way today," remarked Buck as he laid a hand on his booted rifle in an unconscious gesture of protection.

The healer nodded his head. "True."

Chris was leaning forward on his horse, his left forearm lying across the saddle horn and the reins loose in his left hand. "He usually starts here." He tipped his head to a misshapen tree that had been hit by lightning three years ago. "Then he circles around town, across the road and then back to this spot."

Four heads turned to look at the tree. The poor tree was a good marker to go by. Most everyone in the area knew what you were talking about when you mentioned the 'Lightning Cracked Tree.'

"Let's get to it," said Buck as he kicked his horse forward.

-------

Ezra's guts were getting tighter and tighter with the choices he was forced to make.

A gambler in his heart and soul, he was willing to bet just about anything when it came to himself. These choices were about a poor girl who was very dear to a member of his group. She was also very much loved by a very hard old woman who carried a very big gun.

They should be here to make these decisions for her, not a confidence man from the Deep South.

The rain was steady and Ezra, growing tired of providing Casey with cover with his own body, had retrieved his groundsheet from his bedroll. He carefully covered the girl, leaving a small space for fresh oxygen. Otherwise, she was covered like a body waiting for burial.

He shuddered at that image and took a sip of his whiskey to calm his nerves.

Now was the time to think hard. It was almost an hour since the accident that crushed Casey's small body. It was long past his expected discovery beside the very public road. Surely the surviving mare had reached home at the Wells' homestead by now. Where was the surly old crone toting her gun? Maybe he had miscalculated and the old woman wasn't home to see the horse.

Whatever had happened, he could no longer linger by the girl and wait to be discovered. Although the bleeding was controlled, he was not a doctor, and that was exactly what the girl needed now. She did not need a reprobate that only had a passing knowledge of how to tie off a tourniquet and elevate bleeding limbs.

He stood up and away from the pitiful sight and faced his horse. "Get me there and back again," he whispered to the liquid brown eyes. "She needs an angel, not a devil like me." He mounted his horse with little wasted motion and swung the horse's head to face town.

Ezra's glace took in the road and the dim vision of the dead Indian laying by the road. He didn't know who the man was, not that it mattered now. The man had proven to be quite dead when Ezra checking his body during his search of the wagon and supplies. It only took a moment to drag the frail body from the road to prevent other such accidents as befell poor Casey.

"Look over her, old man," whispered Ezra toward the body as he kicked his horse. He angled his horse down the side of the gentle hill. He was almost to the road when a sharp, high voice stopped him.

"Who's that? Who's there?"

Ezra's heart fluttered and he gave silent thanks. Casey would not be alone while he went to town after all.

"Mrs. Wells, it's Standish from town."

Nettie Wells didn't have a hand on her mare's reins as she held her long gun with both hands. It was pointed at the slight outline of a man on a horse. "What're you doin' out here, Dandy? Ain't you got no games to be goin' on about?"

The words stuck in Ezra's throat and he cleared it. "I've been providing assistance to Miss Casey." He pointed with his right hand up the hill. "She's there."

Nettie turned and tried to see what the man was pointing. "Where?"

"Up the hill a ways. She's not doing very well—"

Nettie didn't wait as she clucked to her horse and urged it up the wet, grassy hill. She jumped down from the horse with a few creaking bones and felt her way to the lump of cloth that shone faintly in the night.

She gasped when she saw that the waterproof cloth covered the face of her niece. "What's this?"

"She's alive," answered Ezra, knowing exactly the thoughts that were conjured up by the covered body and face. "I was just keeping the rain off of her."

"What ever happened?" asked the old woman as she carefully peeled back the cloth and tried to see in the dark to examine Casey.

Ezra fidgeted on his horse. "Mrs. Wells, time has become precious. I must go to town and find Nathan."

The old woman's eyes came up to look at the dark figure on the horse. She could hear the strain in his voice. "Very well. I'll stay here."

Ezra's only reply was to kick his horse into a canter toward town.

-------

Buck was on the ground with a match in his hand, trying to see something, anything, that would give them a clue as to what was going on.

He suddenly cursed and threw down the spent match. "This is getting us nowhere! I can't see worth a damn. It's darker'n a witch's heart out here."

Chris agreed silently and sat his horse to think.

They started out with good intentions, but the rain and the clouds were keeping them from accomplishing anything. They couldn't see ten feet in front of them, let alone a lone gambler that was missing.

"Maybe we best call it and come back out in the mornin'," said Chris in a soft voice.

"What if he's nearby . . . hurt or something," replied J.D. with his own soft voice.

"Can't be helped, J.D. We can't see a thing. We won't find him like this."

J.D. let his shoulders slump a little as Buck got back on his white horse and they turned back to town.

It was quiet riding as the four men silently watched the tree marker being lost in the gloom.

Nathan pulled up his jacket to keep the rain from running down the back of his neck. He almost opened his mouth to caution the others to keep their jackets buttoned against the cold wind. The healer shut his mouth with a shake of his head. It usually didn't do a bit of good to give any of them advice about their health.

He was still contemplating that thought when a sudden rush of hoof beats reached their ears and they all pulled up and set their hands to their guns.

-------

Once Ezra reached the muddied dirt of the road, he let his horse free and let it run as fast as it was comfortable with in the bad weather. He wasn't so far away from town that a horse killing speed was necessary.

He was surprised when figures loomed in front of him on the road to town. He pulled up sharply on his horse's reins almost causing the horse to sit down in the mud.

Even over the commotion of his horse and sudden stop, Ezra could clearly hear the clicks of guns.

Without thought, he responded in kind, both of his nimble hands filled with guns, "I generally hit where I aim." His voice was low and intent, his accent more pronounced with stress.

There was general silence in the rain as Ezra contemplated the shapes before him and the others tried to shake off the shock of hearing the missing man's voice.

"Well, hell, Ezra! We do too!" exclaimed Buck as he reholstered his gun and moved his horse forward until Ezra could see the distinctive glow of the man's white horse.

Ezra let his pent up breath escape as he put away his own guns. "You wouldn't perhaps have Nathan with you?"

Nathan straightened up in his saddle. "You hurt, Ezra?"

Ezra turned his horse away from them and looked over his shoulder. "Not me. And I think that someone should go to town for a wagon."

"How bad is it?"

Ezra took a moment to think about it. He didn't want this to be a shock to J.D., but he also didn't want the young man to ride hell for leather in the darkness to find his girlfriend. "Bad," he said in a low voice. "I hope not worse than when I left her a few moments ago."

Nathan took the lead with Chris not far behind them. J.D. and Buck were sent back to town for a wagon and some lanterns for light.

They traveled at a good clip, but let the horses pick their own way.

"Nathan, it's Miss Wells."

"What?"

Ezra kept his face forward, not looking at the shocked healer. "It's Casey Wells."

Chris let out a curse behind them.

-------

Nettie made sure Casey was as comfortable as she could be and then went to the wreck of the wagon to search for fire building materials. She found a few relatively dry pieces of broken wood under the wreck and pulled out lucifers from the busted box that usually rested under the seat in the wagon. The box of matches was soaked but the sticks inside were hardly damp.

She went close to Casey and began to build a fire. It was slow going, but it would be worth it to be able to have a little heat and light near the girl.

She coaxed the smoking wet wood, sticks and grass into a small flame and spent the next five minutes shielding it until it was big enough to fight off the rain by itself.

When the flame reached for the dark sky, Nettie got her first good look at her kin.

"Lord, child!" Nettie ran a hand lightly over Casey's face after pulling back the cloth again. Black, blue and purple-red marks covered the girl's face and neck. Blood smeared her forehead and Nettie could clearly make out the print of a male hand in the blood on Casey's cheek. "Bless him for taking care of you, girl."

-------

"Come on, Buck! We gotta go!"

"I'm comin', J.D. I just want to get this for Nathan," replied Buck as he gathered up some oilcloths and blankets. As Buck was walking out the door, Josiah stepped up with a black leather bag and sat it on top of the blankets.

"Nathan might need this."

Buck nodded and pushed out of the door and hurried down the steps to the waiting wagon. He threw the stuff in the back and mounted his horse.

J.D. had already lighted two lamps and had them hanging from iron hooks mounted on each side of the wagon. The cheery pools of amber light cast back the darkness for a good ten foot around the front of the heavy wagon.

"Ready. Let's go."

They jangled out of town with Vin standing on the walk in front of the jail with his left hand on his belt and his right on his mare's leg. As the light faded down the road, Vin turned and went back in to sit at the desk and wait for someone to come tell him what was going on.

-------

Nathan saw the fire on the hill first and took a chance to kick his horse into a canter. "Nettie! Nettie!"

"Land sakes, Nathan. Hurry! The child is near cold as snowmelt."

Nathan threw himself from his horse, jerking his saddlebags down as he went to the circle of fire light.

"Chris, Ezra, I need some shelter," he barked out as he knelt by the figure on the ground.

Chris dug out his groundsheet and secured one end to his saddle. He urged his horse until it was next to Casey and then jumped down. He motioned Ezra to get on the other side of Nathan. He threw the other end of his large groundsheet to Ezra and Ezra secured it to his saddle. Chris stood at the free end of the sheet with a steadying hand to make sure the wind didn't blow it off. Thus was born a temporary open-air tent.

Ezra got down and crawled under his horse to peek at Nathan as he began to examine Ezra's earlier handiwork. "Nathan, I wasn't sure what to do."

Nathan nodded his head as he pulled back the sheet to expose Casey's elevated arms and legs. He could also see the red, gummy flour in the wounds, soaking up the blood. "This is fine, Ezra. Kept her blood in her and not outside her."

"But, her arm—"

Nathan leaned forward in the flickering light of the fire. He could see the flesh below the tourniquet was bluish white. The blood flow to the arm was gone. "Is exactly the way it has to be." He lightly touched the compound fracture just above the girl's elbow. "Won't be no saving this."

Ezra bowed his head in response.

Nettie glanced between the two men and down at her kin. The left arm was a horrible mass of flesh and bone, crushed almost flat by the fall and the mares. "No saving it?"

Nathan's dark, rich eyes looked at the old woman. "No. There's nothing to be done but take the arm."

The old woman bowed her head and let the rain run off the brim of her hat. "She's a strong girl. She'll survive this."

Nathan nodded. "She'll have plenty of help."

"What do you need to do, Nathan?" asked Chris from his position behind the horses.

"Hoping that wagon gets here soon. Can't do what I need to out here in the country and the dark. I'll do what I can for her head and her scrapes until then."

-------

Buck rode ahead of the wagon, scanning the darkness for a sign of where to go. Then in the distance he saw a fire above the road. When they neared the hill, a body was revealed in the pools of light from the wagon. Buck took a moment to study the dead Indian, wondering what the story was and then moved on.

"Come on, J.D. I think I see 'em."

They pulled the wagon as close to the fire as they could and then jumped down to find Nathan for instructions.

J.D. was met by Chris Larabee about twenty feet from the bloody mess. "What's goin' on, Chris?"

Chris looked down at the "Kid" from his three inches of extra height and sighed. There was no easy way to tell J.D. that the woman he loved was tore up bad. It almost killed Chris when he found out his wife and son died in a fire.

Chris held out a hand and gripped the younger man's shoulder. "It's . . . it's Casey, J.D."

J.D. turned his head from his leader to the fire lit figures on the hill. "Casey?" he asked in a breathless tone. It suddenly seemed that every bit of air had been sucked from the area. "Casey?" he asked with a stronger voice, trying to walk past Chris to get to her.

Chris gripped J.D.'s shoulder a little tighter. "Easy now. She's still alive, but Nathan's got a lot of work to do."

J.D. started to twist his shoulder and raised his right hand to pry Chris's hand away. Chris followed him move for move, maintaining his calming grip. "Don't panic, J.D. It won't help."

His advice fell on deaf ears as J.D. pushed him away, breaking his hold. He ran forward and scuttled under the horse-hung sheet to see Nathan hovering over the pale girl in boy's clothing. Bloody boy's clothing.

"Casey!"

Ezra shrank back from the anguished voice, letting the darkness swallow him back up. Nathan, on the other hand, stood his ground and kept his place by the girl. Nettie kept her place at her niece's head, soothing the child by rubbing the unblemished part of her forehead and cooing calm words.

"Now, J.D. It won't help at all."

J.D. ran his eyes over his love and gasped when he saw her left arm. His hands went immediately to the tight suspenders to take them loose. Dark skinned hands stopped him.

"No, J.D. It's been too long now. We can't let up on that tourniquet. I'll take care of it when we get back to town."

J.D. had a fire in his eyes when he looked at Nathan. "Who?" he asked with a trembling voice, "Who did this to her?"

"She had an accident, J.D. The dead man in the road—"

"No! Who did this to her arm?"

"It don't matter, J.D. It had to be done."

J.D. turned his eyes from Nathan and let them bore into the darkness to see the outline of the gambler. "You did this! You were here first. Why did you do it?"

"J.D., she was bleeding out."

"Shut up! You sorry son-of-a-bitch! Do you know what you've done?"

"Saved her life, most likely, J.D.," answered Nathan with a calm, soft voice. "She wouldn't have lasted very long without this. Now, be quiet and help us move her to the wagon or go back to town."

J.D. let his burning gaze trap the Southerner for a moment longer before he turned to his girl.

Ezra slowly stood up and helped Chris Larabee dismantle the makeshift tent. They then moved the saddle horses out of the way. Nathan, with the help of J.D. and Buck, carefully maneuvered Casey down to the wagon and laid her on the semi-dry blankets.

J.D. immediately jumped in the wagon and sat by her with Nettie Wells. Buck tied Nettie and Nathan's horses to the back and gave Nathan the high sign to go. Nathan let the horses pull and got the wagon smoothly rolling back to town.

-------

Josiah Sanchez stood on the deck in front of the clinic and let his eyes travel from street fire to street fire. The lessening rain pattered on his wide brim hat to drip in uneven patterns. He wasn't quite sure what was going on. All indications were that someone was very badly hurt and Nathan needed some supplies.

Buck didn't take the time to say if the one hurt was Ezra or not. The preacher hoped it wasn't Ezra. At the same time, he couldn't wish bad luck on anyone so that Ezra could be free of trouble.

He ended up here on the deck looking without hoping at the street for an answer to his question.

"Mr. Sanchez?"

Josiah turned from the railing and looked back into the clinic. Jud Cleaver, the unfortunate cowhand that lost a thumb, was standing in the door with his shirt open and barefoot. "Yes, Jud?"

"You think I need to go? Not much room here for more'n me."

"You in any pain?"

"No, sir."

"Now, Jud, lying ain't gonna help any."

The cowhand had the sense to look shamed. "Well, it don't hurt that much anymore. That tea helped some."

Josiah leaned on the rail as he looked over the flushed man with the wrapped up hand. Small spots of blood scattered the bandage from the trauma. "I guess we'll wait for Nathan before I kick you out, Jud. We'll see what he says."

Jud nodded. "I could get a room if he don't want me to go back to the ranch. Mr. Laster gave me some money to stay in town until I got myself better."

Josiah sighed. "That's fine, Jud. We'll just wait for Nathan."

A smattering of noise down the street brought Josiah's head around. His gray-blue eyes squinted to make out the activity in the night.

"Here they come now, Jud. Go sit in that chair in the corner, out of the way until I can speak to Nathan."

"Yes, sir." Jud scooted back into the clinic and dragged the wooden chair into the farthest corner to be out of the way.

"Nathan!" shouted Josiah in his deep voice when the wagon pulled up even with the steps to the clinic. "Who you got there? Ezra?"

Ezra pulled his horse up next to the wagon and got a glare from J.D. for his trouble. "Unfortunately not, Mr. Sanchez," said Ezra in a weary voice. He had been out of town all day and then worked through to help Casey. It was enough to wear out the strongest man.

Josiah breathed an inward sigh of relief. Once again, the men of the Seven beat back the odds. Eventually, the odds would catch up with then, but not tonight.

"Well, who then?" he asked as Nathan jumped down and went to the back to lower the gate.

"It's Casey, Josiah," said Buck and he helped pull the pallet of blankets with Casey on it to the end of the wagon.

"Lord God," breathed Josiah.

Nerves were close to breaking as they gave her legs to Buck. Nathan and J.D. held Casey under her back, careful of her left shoulder and arm.

It was at this moment that Casey Wells decided to wake from her long, gray sleep.

She jerked with the memory of being pinned under heavy horses. She opened her mouth to scream for help, knowing that Ezra was nearby. "Ezra! Ezra!"

"Damn!" shouted Buck as Casey's legs began to kick. She might be a little bit of a thing, but working a homestead made even the smallest of people strong.

J.D. almost screamed himself when Casey began to screech at the top of her lungs and it wasn't his name that she was calling. "Casey, it's J.D.! Casey!"

She wasn't hearing and she wasn't seeing anything but what happened in the accident. She could feel and hear the horsehide scrubbing her into the ground. She could smell the horsehair getting into her mouth and nose as she tried to breathe and scream.

"Josiah! Get some cloth and the chloroform!" shouted Nathan as the struggling girl began to bleed from her various wounds. There was no way they were going to get her up the long stairs this way.

Josiah raced into the clinic and grabbed up a white towel and the eight-ounce square container of chloroform. He was folding the towel into a cone as he thundered down the steps and into the muddy street.

"Ezra, give me some help!" shouted Nathan as he tried to get Casey's head into position for the anesthesia. Her twisting was making things difficult.

Ezra stepped up and laid both hands on her face to push the back of her head against Nathan's shoulder. Josiah poured a small amount of chloroform on the cloth and put it over her face.

Not having the time to prepare her for the chloroform, blisters began to appear on Casey's mouth and nose.

She began to choke as her air felt like it was being cut off. Casey gasped against the feeling and felt her heart begin to race in panic.

"Casey, it's just to help you," soothed Nathan. "Just breathe, girl. That's right."

Casey's eyes flew open and the whites were visible all the way around her irises. She cried out as she started to struggle again, all the while gasping.

J.D. was almost beside himself as he held Casey under her back. Every gasp she let out was a knife into his heart. He finally couldn't watch her face anymore and instead turned his hot gaze to Ezra as Ezra continued to hold Casey's head against Nathan.

Ezra, being a man who took his own safety as priority one, knew he was being glared at by his youngest friend. Now was not the time or the place to deal with the rancor coming from the young man from the East.

"Okay, Josiah, back off. I think that's enough."

Josiah took the cloth away to see Casey's eyes once again closed and her body limp. Her breathing was shallow and the pulse in her neck was slow.

"Let's move it," snapped Nathan.

Ezra let the girl's head go as Nathan, J.D. and Buck pulled away and started up the stairs. J.D.'s gaze moved from Ezra to the steps as he concentrated to reaching the top without tripping.

Nettie Wells followed, still holding her gun.

Chris moved up beside the shorter Ezra and hooked a hand in his black and silver gunbelt. "Might be trouble."

Ezra inclined his head as he watched the progress up the stairs. "True enough. True enough."

"I can put you in the jail with Vin or send you out of town." Chris took a moment to spit on the muddy ground before taking his chewed cheroot out of his pocket and putting it in his mouth.

"No. This will happen eventually. Let's see where it leads us before I take off to parts unknown. He needs to be here for her, not out hunting me in a strange saloon."

"Your decision," replied Chris. "Just don't let it get you or him killed."

Ezra wanted to say that it would never happen. They were all friends after the two years of working together. There was no more happy or enthusiastic man than J.D. Dunne. Ezra hated to think that something would invade that happiness and cut it to the bone.

However, underneath, Ezra knew that love caused some to do odd, unexplained and unthinking things.

He just wasn't sure when this would all lead.

-------

Casey was held until Josiah could strip the bed and tossed a fresh sheet over the mattress. The men carefully lowered her until she was resting on her back.

"Get my shaving kit, Josiah," ordered Nathan. "And some water."

Nathan gathered up a waterproofed tarp and as much lint, linen and towels that he could find. "Buck, did you bring that black bag back in from the wagon?"

Buck checked around and then raced down the stairs and was back in a flash. "Here," he puffed out.

Nathan pulled a small waist high table from the wall and carefully laid out the tools from the bag.

J.D. gasped when a screw tourniquet, three different kinds of scalpels, a bow saw and a long, thin knife were revealed. The last object unpacked was a rongeur to smooth the cut bone before closing the stump.

"Nathan, I don't think this is necessary," gulped J.D.

Nettie came up behind the young man and placed a hand on his elbow. "Child, this needs to be done. There's no help for it. She either keeps the arm and goes to her grave or we get to keep her alive."

Nathan allowed a moment to catch his breath and then picked up a piece of linen and slit it halfway up the middle. "It's time."

Chris and Ezra didn't have places to stand in the clinic so they stayed just outside the door. They both watched as J.D. jumped in front of the former slave and former stretcher-bearer in the Union Army.

"Stop!"

"Buck, get him out of here," ordered Chris from the doorway.

Buck tried to get a hand on J.D., but the younger man kept him away with an outstretched arm. Chris moved forward and into the developing fight. Both of the older men grabbed an arm and J.D. was bodily dragged from the clinic. The boy's rare swear words floated back to the others in the clinic.

"Shave her arm, just above the tourniquet, Josiah."

Josiah began to shave the area with a straight razor. He used cool water to wash away the suds and then patted the area dry with some linen.

"Anyone that don't have a strong stomach, then out with you," said Nathan in a tight voice.

No one looked up from Casey's face and no one left.

"Fine, then give me a hand. Josiah, keep her under with the chloroform." He handed the cone of material and the container back to the ex-preacher. "Nettie, I need you to hold the skin back on her arm for me. Can you do that?"

Nettie allowed a tear from her left eye and then wiped it away with her sleeve. Nathan gave her a look and then shook his head. Family shouldn't have to do this. He turned his dark eyes to Ezra, who was still in the doorway. "Ezra?"

Ezra didn't want to do this. That first year in the hospitals of the War, just the memory was enough to make him sick to his stomach. "I—"

"I don't got no one else here, Ezra."

Ezra swallowed hard and stepped forward.

Jud took this moment to speak up. He just lost his thumb and didn't need to see a young girl loose her arm. "Uh, Mr. Nathan? Can I go get a room?"

Nathan looked over at the pale face of the cowhand and nodded. "Go on. Don't stay out in the rain too long. And put on your coat and boots before you go."

Jud gathered up his things and raced out of the door.

-------

"Get off of me! Buck!"

Vin Tanner heard the noise before he could see it. He got up from the desk and peered out of the window. To his surprise, he saw J.D. being dragged toward the jail between Buck and Chris.

Vin stepped back to the desk and sat down. After a second of thought, he put his feet up on the desk to watch the coming show.

The door burst open with J.D.'s feet barely touching the floor. "Dammit! Let me go!"

"Keys, Vin," said Chris as he held out his hand.

Vin lazily tossed the keys to Chris just before they passed through the first iron door and up to the cells. The first cell still held the thief who tipped his hat up from a sleepy face to see what all the fuss was.

Chris opened the second cell and with Buck's help, they shoved a furious J.D. in and slammed the door. Buck was holding the two guns that were usually at J.D.'s waist.

J.D. came back at the barred door with his top lip drawn back from his teeth. He gripped the bars until his hands turned white. "You can't do this! I need to be at the clinic!"

Buck and Chris drifted back from the cells until they were even with the wooden desk.

"Trouble, boys?" asked Vin with cornflower blue eyes wide.

Buck turned away from J.D. with a pained look. "Yeah, Casey's in the clinic. We had to take J.D. out of there before he did something foolish."

Vin took his feet down and sat up in the chair. "Casey?"

Chris rested his hip on the edge of the desk. "She had a little accident. She's gonna lose her arm."

Vin sat back in the chair with a thud. "Her arm? She's so young."

"Yeah," muttered Buck.

-------

Ezra laid his jacket and vest to the side along with his hat. He considered taking off his shirt until he noticed the blood stains on it from his earlier attention to Casey's wounds.

Nathan picked up the screw tourniquet and put it just above the suspenders on Casey's arm. He turned the big screw until the strap was tight enough to cut the blood flow. He then cut off Ezra's suspenders and tossed them to the side. He handed the split linen to Ezra, who threw it over his shoulder. They wouldn't need it at first.

Ezra put the waterproof tarp under the girl's arm to protect the bed from the coming blood.

Nathan then picked up the long, thin knife and held it to Casey's shaved arm. "Ready?" He looked at Josiah and Ezra and they both nodded.

The ex-slave pushed down on the knife to start the cut. Ezra moved forward and held the arm above the bed so Nathan could run the knife around the arm, opening the skin and some of the muscle.

Ezra breathed in deep and moved his grip so that his right hand was above the cut and his left hand was below it. He applied pressure and opened up the cut to expose the red muscle. Nathan leaned in and made another cut, this time cutting to the bone.

Blood seeped out of the torn and cut flesh and dripped down on the tarp.

"Ezra, give me the linen."

Ezra nodded and pulled the linen from his shoulder and handed it to Nathan as Nathan tossed down the bloody knife. As Ezra kept the two sides of the cut flesh apart, Nathan wrapped the rent cloth around the bone and pulled.

The flesh pulled back from the bone to expose a nice cutting area. Nathan handed the cloth ends back to Ezra.

"Keep that as tight as you can," said Nathan as he turned to the table and picked up the bow saw. He looked up at Josiah. "Doing alright with that chloroform?"

"She seems fine."

Nathan nodded and got a glance at Ezra's pale face before setting the saw to the bone. "Here we go. Pull that cloth."

The sound of metal cutting into bone filled the clinic. Ezra pushed down the feelings of nausea and closed his eyes. At the head of the bed, Josiah kept his gaze on Casey's face and a prayer in his heart. Nettie didn't restrain herself and prayed aloud in a chanting voice that was soft in the silence and high when the saw squealed on bone.

After an eternity, the bone parted and Ezra's left arm dipped with the free weight of Casey's forearm and elbow. He gasped at the sight and quickly flung the limb away and into the corner.

Nettie Wells gasped and shielded her eyes from the sight. She forced her eyes back to the girl. "Josiah, now would be a good time to pray out loud for us. I'm not sure I'm getting the words right and she doesn't have time for me to figure them out."

Josiah nodded and began to pray as he kept the girl under during her operation.

"Keep the linen tight, Ezra!"

Nathan quickly put down the saw and picked up the rongeur to make sure the end of the bone was as smooth as it could be. When he was satisfied, he nodded to Ezra to take the linen away from the remaining flesh.

When the pressure of the linen was gone, the retracted muscles and skin expanded and covered up the sawed end of the bone. Nathan put a finger to the stump to check the depth of the bone in the hole.

"Good, this is good. Got a good pad of flesh here for the end of the stump."

Ezra gagged slightly and Nathan ignored it.

"Now, I got to tie up the veins and arteries. Loosen up that tourniquet some, Josiah."

Josiah laid the chloroform down on the table and turned the screw to let up pressure from the strap. Blood began to seep from the gaping wound. Nathan tisked to himself as he used catgut to sew up the main areas of bleeding. When he was done with that, he moved on to sewing the ends of the flesh together to cover the raw wound. He used single knotted sutures that were placed a good length apart. The wound was left partially open to allow drainage as it healed.

Nathan ended the procedure by gathering up lint and packing the stump. He then wrapped a piece of linen to hold it all in place.

"Finished. Josiah, start fanning some fresh air into her face."

Josiah nodded and used his wide brimmed hat to push air at the girl's head causing the long, dark hair that had worked loose of her braids to wave in the slight breeze.

Ezra and Nathan stood exhausted by the procedure. The act of physically taking flesh and bone from another person was a hideous and vile thing.

Ezra worked up some spit in his mouth. "As good as it could go, Nathan. I've seen worse. Much worse."

"So have I. Seen some doctors so drunk during the War that they would hack off too much flesh so there wouldn't be enough to cover the end. Then they would have to do it all again."

Ezra shuddered and Josiah crossed himself. They moved back from the sick bed and allowed Nettie to pull up a chair to sit close to her kin. She took Casey's remaining hand and held it gently.

Ezra slowly sat down on the chair in the corner vacated by poor Jud not so long ago in his haste to leave the sick room. He felt like he had faced the whole Union Army alone with only a rock and a stick.

"Best go tell J.D. it's over."

Ezra let his head drop and rubbed his temple with a shaky hand. There was a splash of water and a wet towel hit his head and fell to his knees. He looked up to see Nathan cleaning up in a basin of water.

"Best if you clean off Casey's blood before you get the boy."

Ezra nodded and picked up the wet towel.

-------

"Maybe Nathan needs to give him something," whispered Vin as J.D. began to yell again.

Chris sighed. "I'll ask him later, right now, he's too busy to deal with this."

All eyes turned to the door as it pushed open. A washed out Ezra appeared with dead tired looking eyes. "Gentlemen, the operation is over."

Buck and Chris let out a relieved breath. Since there was no mention of complications, they both assumed she was fine. Otherwise Ezra would have said so.

"You! This is your doing!"

Ezra didn't show any emotion in the face of J.D.'s outburst in the jail cell. "Nathan says you can bring him now." Without another word, Ezra turned and left.

Buck picked up the keys and went to the cell. "Boy, you keep yourself together. Casey don't need you fallin' to pieces right now. Don't do nothin' you'll regret later."

J.D. glared at Buck as he stomped past the older men and into the street, almost running to the clinic.

"More trouble," sighed Chris.

"You got that right, cowboy," whispered Vin from the background.

-------

J.D. Dunne was furious to the point of his vision actually having a red glaze that turned everything in sight a dark amber color. His hands clenched and unclenched over the empty pieces of leather at his waist that usually contained his precious guns.

'If I only had my guns!'

His mind was a dark and ugly thing. Images of holding out his guns and shooting down a man, a friend, ran rampant as he half stomped and half staggered to the town's clinic.

J.D. got to the top of the stairs and stopped, his breath harsh and his pulse trying to punch a hole in his skin.

'I can't do this. I just can't. This shouldn't be happening to her. To me. To us.'

The clinic door opened to reveal a pale Josiah Sanchez. His left hand clutched his beaded cross that hung around his neck. Blue-gray eyes landed on the youngest of The Seven and a silent prayer went to God.

"Son, she's still sleeping. Nathan says everything went fine. Just fine."

J.D.'s moment of weakness burned away in the renewal of anger. "Fine? Just fine? She was fine when she had her arm, Josiah. Before someone I thought was a friend to me – a friend to her – took it away."

"Son—"

"Shut the hell up!" snarled the young man, pulling up to his whole height of five foot, nine inches. His brown hazel eyes were almost black. "The next voice I want to hear is Casey's." J.D. stormed past the solid ex-preacher, almost pushing him out of the way.

"God, we're going to need your help real soon," muttered Josiah, his hand still on his cross. "Protect those that need it."

J.D. entered the small room used as a clinic for the town. Nathan sat wearily in a chair and Nettie Wells was by the bed.

Casey Wells lay in the bed, the checked cloth around her head gone, replaced by a smaller piece of white lint. The blood was gone from her skin leaving only the purple and pink bruises on her pale face.

His eyes went immediately to her left arm, but her body was covered in a gray wool blanket. J.D. didn't think he could have seen the stump in the open and kept his stomach under control. His dark eyes went to the hardened older woman by Casey's bed and then snapped his gaze back to Casey's milk white face.

"Casey, can you hear me?" he whispered, his face close to her right cheek as he bent down to the bed.

"J.D., I don't think you should wake her up. Let the girl sleep," muttered Nathan. His voice was heavy and his eyes were closing on their own craving sleep.

J.D. didn't even look up at that advice. He wanted to talk to Casey, to make sure she was all right and to let her know of the betrayal.

"Casey?"

Casey felt heavy and breathless. The more she came to, the more she bellowed her lungs to get in oxygen. Confusion was dulling her thoughts.

'Where was she?'

There was a voice nearby. A male voice that she recognized, but couldn't put a name to at the moment.

"Casey," the voice was low and desperate. "Son-of-a-bitch."

J.D. was near and he sounded mad.

She opened her lids to show bloodshot eyes to the young man at her side.

"Oh, Casey," cried J.D. as he tried to control his tears. "Ezra . . . Casey, your arm."

Casey didn't know what was happening. She wasn't in her room and she wasn't on the road in her wagon. "Ezra?"

The fear in J.D.'s eyes turned to cold, brown hazel fury. "He ain't here. And he won't be if I have anything to say about it."

She tried to puzzle out his meaning as she let her eyes drift. She saw Nettie beside her and realized that her right hand was being held softly by her aunt's rough hands. Nathan sat in a chair with a hand to his eyes and Josiah was muttering at the door.

She was in the clinic her muddled mind finally worked out.

"J.D.?"

The anger swept away to reveal something deeper. "Casey, I'm here. I'm right here."

"What happened?"

Her dark expressive eyes were confused as she tried to piece together what happened. The last she remembered, she was driving the wagon home and a storm was coming.

"Ezra did something bad. Casey, your arm."

Casey's eyes came back up to study the love of her life. He looked ill, worn and angry to the center of his soul. "J.D.?"

"Your arm—"

Then her confusion and numbness parted like a curtain to let in the pain. Blinding, hot pain ran up and down her body and visions of horses and dirt flew at her face. She gasped and Nettie tightened her grip on her remaining hand.

"God! My arm!"

J.D. felt moisture in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he almost wailed.

"The pain! God, my arm is killing me. Nathan!"

Her screams of pain were expected, but her words were not. Nathan jumped from his chair and hurried over to her left side near her stump.

"Your arm hurting, Casey?" the healer asked in a puzzled tone. 'Lord, what is wrong now?'

Casey squinted her eyes and nearly crushed her aunt's hands as she held on in an attempt to push back the hurt. "Yes . . . like it's burning . . . Nathan!"

Nathan's dark hands hovered over her stump, not knowing what to do. The arm was gone. How could it be hurting her?

"Casey, which arm is hurting?"

She flung her head from side to side on the pillow. "The left . . . the left!"

Nathan's eyes met Nettie's over the body of her twisting niece.

-------

Ezra Standish couldn't sit at his regular gaming table in the saloon. Sleep was dragging at him, but he didn't close his eyes because of the visions of the blood flowing from Casey Wells . . . and the fury of J.D. Dunne.

He was standing at the bar with his back to the doorway. Bandits could storm the place and shoot him in the back and he wouldn't care.

All he was focused on was the fine brandy in his glass.

He didn't even care enough to jump when a hand grasped his right shoulder.

"Hoss, he don't mean anything by it," murmured Buck Wilmington as he leaned against the bar next to Ezra. "He's just excited."

Ezra took a sip of his drink and shook his head. "People say things when they are excited that usually stay hidden. I find that what is said is often true. It's when politeness wears off and deeply held beliefs are given over to words."

Buck shook his shoulder slightly. "He's young and needs a little more growing up. He'll be sorry he spoke to you like that when things settle down."

Ezra finished his drink and stood away from the bar with a dark expression. "Buck . . . don't side with me. He's going to need all the support he can get." He smoothed down his jacket and resettled his black hat. "If anything happens, don't side with me."

Buck held his breath until Ezra turned and fled to his room.

He let the air hiss back out and let his eyes fall to the bar top. No matter what happened, he wasn't going to let Ezra face it alone, even if he made J.D. angry.

-------

Chris Larabee was still in the jail with Vin Tanner. They were just sitting comfortably in old chairs and watching the thief in the cell sleep.

"Trouble comin'," drawled Vin.

"Yep."

"Big trouble."

"Yep."

"Gonna back Ezra?"

Chris Larabee pushed his hat back to reveal his blond bangs. "Reckon."

"J.D.'s gonna be pissed."

"Uh-huh."

"Well, don't get yourself worked up about it, Larabee."

"Not plannin' on it."

-------

Nathan Jackson was at the end of his rope. Casey was in so much pain that he finally stuffed a full dose of laudanum down her throat with the help of Nettie. She finally drifted off into a heavy sleep, leaving Nathan, J.D. and Nettie shaking in their places.

"What the hell is goin' on, Nathan?" Anger and fear pushed the words from the young man as he hovered over Casey's bed.

Nathan ran a tired and shaking hand over his sweaty face. "I have no idea, J.D. I've seen arms taken before, but nothing like this."

J.D. glared at him. "Seem them taken? Ain't you done it before?"

Nathan shook his head. "Now, J.D., I was just help during the war. I helped out with smaller things. I won't allowed to do things like this." Nathan searched his supplies as if they held the answer to his question. "Ain't had no cause to take anything more than a finger or toe since then. Nothing as big as an arm."

"You . . . you done this without knowin'?"

The healer turned at the hot voice and allowed some heat to enter his own. "J.D., there is something we got to get straight right now. This girl would have died if we hadn't taken that arm. It weren't Ezra's fault and it weren't my fault. That's just the way it was. Ain't nobody around to take that arm for her but me. I think I did a damn fine job with what I had."

Nettie cleared her throat. "You did fine, Nathan. She'll live."

Nathan finally flung the items in his hand back down in frustration. "I need to get a wire to the doctor in Junction City. Maybe he'll know what happened." He turned back to Nettie. "Keep an eye on her, Nettie. I'll put some tea on in case she wakes up. I can't give her no more laudanum right now."

"We'll be fine. Go on with your business, Nathan."

Nathan let his eyes rest on J.D. a moment. He almost opened his mouth to talk to the kid when he shook it off. Casey was more important right now.

He pushed out of the clinic and passed Josiah who was still quietly praying on a bench and fingering his cross.

-------

A day passed and tensions were rising along with the heat. Ezra looked idly out of his bedroom window to watch dust devils dancing around the town in the hot wind.

He really needed a drink but couldn't force himself to leave his rocking chair.

Ezra stroked the arm of the wooden chair for a moment and allowed his mind to go back to when Li Pong sat in his lap. That was one of the most relaxing times in his life—just him and her comforting each other in a harsh world.

It wasn't often he allowed himself to relax his guard that much around a woman.

Lord, he missed Li Pong . . . he mourned her after she left to go back to her family.

Just like J.D. was probably mourning Casey right now in the clinic.

Casey most likely didn't know what was going on. Her arm and her life snatched away from her in an accident. A few seconds that would change her destiny for years to come.

J.D. was not going to be any help to her right now. He was focused on making someone pay for this horrible event. The future was far away and too dim for J.D. to worry over just yet.

Ezra had been there, not J.D. and this was something that was sure to sizzle in the young man's gut.

The gambler slowly pushed himself from the chair and tucked his white shirt into his black pants. He absently pulled on a plain tan vest. His hat was settled on his head and then his shoulder holster and his hip holster were slung on.

He glanced at his pocket watch, rings and derringer and hesitated.

Ezra shook his head. He was going without his usual fancy trappings today. More than likely J.D. Dunne was going to call him out before the day was over and he didn't want his few possessions to be ruined in the fight.

He looked at himself in his mirror and ran a hand down the tan cotton vest.

More than likely, he wasn't coming back to his room looking like this.

'Do it for Casey,' he told the image in the glass. 'She needs someone to be there until J.D. gets his head together. Might as well be you.'

-------

Ezra leaned against a wall in the sunlight as he waited for J.D. to leave the clinic. Ezra was planning to be there for Casey, but he'd be damned if he walked in there to be attacked by the kid.

Almost an hour went by before J.D. thundered down the steps and disappeared into the saloon. Ezra leaned away from the wall and went up to see the young woman and her steadfast aunt.

The gambler opened the clinic door to see Nettie sitting in a chair beside the bed. Nettie's gun, hat and coat were stacked neatly in the corner.

"Mr. Standish," the older woman greeted with a touch of softness in her voice. Between the bouts of Casey being awake, she had to listen to J.D.'s outbursts against the gambling man and bemoaning Casey's future. Nothing she said did a thing to change the boy's mind.

"Mrs. Wells," Ezra replied. He shifted closer to the bed and inspected the young woman. Casey was still pale with her flesh still showing angry marks from her accident. Her stump was carefully covered from view by the edge of a blanket.

"How is she?"

Nettie turned her graying head to look at the last of her living family. "In pain. Nathan's trying to find out what went wrong."

Ezra frowned. "In her arm?"

"Yes, I think she still feels it."

Ezra nodded. He'd heard of such things after the war. "J.D. coming back?"

The old woman's knowing eyes came up to meet his. "Yes, just went to get something to eat. He's been here since we brought her in without taking care of himself. He just sits and rants." She shifted in her seat and moved her skirts for a better seat. "You eat yet?"

Ezra didn't reply to the question as he allowed his right shoulder to lean against the clinic wall and crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture. He watched his boot as he rocked his right foot on the boot heel.

"Best not let your back be to the door when J.D. gets back," commented Nettie. "He's a little upset at you."

Ezra shrugged inelegantly. "He has to be mad at something. He wasn't expecting this."

Nettie snorted. "Hell, who expects this?" She took a moment to pat the covers that covered Casey's hand. "I never thought my family would be reduced down to just me and Casey. I had high hopes . . . high hopes." Her eyes misted over as memories played in her mind. "Nothing to do but overcome and get on with livin'."

Ezra snorted. "Did you ever have the pleasure of meeting my mother, Mrs. Wells?"

She shook her head at him.

He snorted again. "Yes, well, there's this story she likes to tell about my younger years. It involves a tomahawk and my cousin's fingers."

Nettie's eyes widened. "You didn't."

Ezra smirked. "No, I didn't, but I almost did. It was a very close thing. Aunt Beatrice still won't speak to me because of it." His eyes got a shadow in them. "See, she was scared when she saw the blood and didn't think to ask what happened. She just assumed . . . anyway, she needed someone to blame and I was the nearest target. I think she saw his life without fingers flash before her eyes and it horrified her."

"Scared people do strange things."

"Indeed."

Nettie moved to speak again when the door burst open to spill J.D. into the crowded room. Ezra could almost hear the Larabee-like growl come from the youngster.

"Ezra, what in the hell are you doing here?"

Ezra suddenly felt all the eight or nine years he had on J.D. Was he ever this young and hot? All he could remember was the cool calculation on the cons and the cold emotions from his mother.

"Son, I suggest you sit down and tend to your lady-love. I'm in no mood to handle you like a shaken rattlesnake today." His words were flat and his back was still to the young man.

Ezra could practically feel hot breath on the back of his neck and suppressed a shudder.

"You ain't in the mood?" asked J.D., his voice rising as he spoke. "Why, I ought to—"

He was shoved aside as Nathan opened the clinic door. Nathan only took a moment to look at J.D. before moving over to Nettie. There were slips of paper in his hands.

"I got back some responses." Nathan sat down on the foot of the bed to face Nettie. "Doctor in Junction asked if I tied off the nerves in the arm before I closed up."

Ezra heaved a tired sigh from against the wall.

Nathan nodded his head in agreement with the Southerner's unspoken comment since he felt the same way.

Nettie's eyebrows drew together. "I'm guessing that you didn't."

Nathan shook his head. "No, I was so worried about all the blood and the shock . . . I'm sorry."

The older woman leaned forward and patted Nathan on his knee. "Now, now, you did the best you could. If you hadn't been here, the next best thing would have been old Doc Plenty and he can't hardly pull a tooth."

"Quack," muttered Ezra from the wall.

Glad for the momentary distraction, Nathan turned an amused face to the gambler. "Ezra, just because the man wanted to pull your gold tooth, don't mean he's a quack. I hear tell he's a fine dentist."

Ezra glared at him. "The man is a quack and wanted to pull my tooth for the gold. He's a parasite."

J.D. put his hands to his guns. "Yeah, you would know, wouldn't you, Ezra?"

Nettie gasped. "J.D.!"

Casey stirred in the bed sleepily and then settled down again. Nettie gave J.D. a hard glare warning him to keep the fuss down.

J.D. looked defiantly at the woman that, besides Mary Travis, was the Seven's biggest supporter in town. "It's true. He knows a thing about being gold hungry."

Ezra dropped his head as Nathan opened his mouth. 'Don't side with me, Nathan,' he thought furiously to himself. "Nathan, what does the doctor suggest you do for Miss Wells?"

The town healer studied Ezra for a moment before allowing himself to be deflected. "Nothing I can do for it. Maybe the pain will lessen in time, but she's always gonna hurt."

J.D. turned and kicked the clinic door savagely, cracking the wood. "Dammit!"

Nettie ignored the outburst. Instead, she turned her watering eyes to her pained niece. "Nothing at all, Nathan? Will she be on drugs?"

"Anything I give her to help will just fade in time. Better that she learns to deal with the pain now than become dependant on some drug or herb."

"Ezra, can I see you outside?" demanded J.D., his voice rough.

The gambler and con man wanted nothing more than to go back to his room and get back in bed. "No, Mr. Dunne, I don't think so."

"Coward."

"Yes, I suppose you are right."

"You gotta leave here sometime," responded J.D.

Ezra nodded, "For a fact."

J.D. Dunne took a moment to collect his thoughts. He kept his brown jacket brushed back from his guns and allowed his low-heeled boots to ring on the wood floor as he took a step toward the gambler. "I know where you sleep and I know where you play."

Ezra turned from the wall and uncrossed his arms. "Mr. Dunne, I suggest you get some sleep before your mouth gets you into some . . . unseemly trouble."

J.D. could see the green steel in Ezra's eyes and decided to back down for now. Maybe he would get some sleep. "I'll see you around."

"I'm sure you will, Mr. Dunne."

J.D. all but ran from the clinic to his room. 'Damn gambler,' he snarled in his mind. He slammed the door and all but ripped his coat, hat and gunbelts off and flung them in a chair.

"Who does he think he is?" he asked the walls. "Running around the countryside with my girl and letting that happen." He slammed his pillow and then sat down on his bed to take off his boots. "Then just . . . just makes the decision to cut off her arm. Just like that! Don't even ask."

He flung his boots away to hit the wall next to the door where they left dried mud behind. Still in his fit of temper, he slapped his water glass onto the floor.

In a way, the tantrum was satisfying, but he needed more. J.D. needed to do something about this horrific new problem with Casey, but he could feel his rage turning into fuzziness. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind.

J.D. was about to lie down on the bed when the shaking started.

"What the hell?" he asked through chattering teeth. The whole bed was shaking right along with him.

-------

Buck Wilmington stood in the hallway and listened as J.D. ranted. 'Poor Kid . . . poor Casey.'

He really wanted to be in there with J.D., but the kid was just flat wrong about all this. Now was the time to hunker down and be there for his woman, not running off at the mouth at a man who only tried to help.

Buck was about to leave to find Ezra when he heard a muffled sound like glass breaking. He quickly turned back and pushed open J.D.'s unlocked door.

In the middle of the bed was J.D. curled in a ball, his body shaking and his face covered by his longish black hair. Buck could hear gasps coming from his friend.

"Oh, J.D.," whispered Buck as he tiptoed through the glass shards from a smashed drinking glass to join J.D. on the bed.

"It's never gonna be the same," stuttered J.D. as Buck pulled him up and held him.

"No," agreed Buck.

"It's all Ezra's fault."

"No," said Buck in a stronger tone. "Ain't nothing his fault in this. He just was tryin' to help Casey."

"Did a damn poor job of it," sniffled J.D. as he tried to wipe away his tears.

"Did the best he could, J.D. Stop talking now and get some rest. I'll be right here."

J.D. nodded his head on Buck's shoulder and slowly allowed himself to relax. He slipped fitfully into dreams about Casey and their three dark haired children.

-------

Josiah was still praying when he looked up from the table outside the saloon to see Vin Tanner and Chris Larabee step out of the jail.

The tracker spotted the ex-preacher and raised a hand in greeting. Josiah gave a tight smile and nodded back at Vin.

Josiah looked up and down the street. Things were quiet right now, but that could change in a second. He turned to ponder Vin and Chris and then smiled.

His best guess it that they were doing just what he was doing – looking out for Ezra and J.D.

The big man stood and grabbed a chair and then lugged it across the street to sit by the gunslinger and the tracker. "Howdy, boys."

Vin grinned and Chris just pulled his hat brim down closer to his eyes.

"See anything interesting?" asked Josiah.

"Seen Buck trailing J.D. toward the boarding house. Guess J.D.'s finally gonna get some sleep," responded Vin as he pushed his chair back on two legs.

"He'll be ready when he gets up, then."

Chris grunted in agreement. "He'll either let it drop or tear into Ezra like a bull seeing red."

Josiah laughed even though it wasn't a laughing matter. "That boy better watch out for Ezra. You can count on a gambler to fight dirty when it comes down to the nut cuttin'."

"Should have seen ol' Ezra when we first saw him. Backed down the whole saloon of angry men with his little gun and then just slunk right on out of there," grinned Vin, showing his teeth. "Thought he was dead for sure."

Josiah turned his head as he saw Nathan coming down the street. "Looks like Nathan's getting some air."

The dark skinned healer came up even with them and paused. "Taking it easy?"

"Nope, waiting on J.D. to blow like thirty year old dynamite."

Nathan shook his head. "It'll be anytime now, especially since he found out what the doctor thought."

"What?"

Nathan put a hand on one of the posts and leaned on it. "Casey woke up with pain in her arm. Real bad pain. Doctor says I most likely didn't tie off the nerves. She's gonna have pain for a long, long time."

"Good Lord," breathed Josiah.

Nathan studied the almost empty street. "Gonna get hot."

"You said it, Nathan," murmured Vin.

-------

Buck eased J.D. off his legs and used his pocket-handkerchief to clean up the broken glass next to the bed.

The kid had been asleep almost five hours and darkness was starting to fall outside the window.

The rangy gunman stood in his friend's room and contemplated the situation. His dark blue eyes fell on J.D.'s guns and Buck grabbed them without a second thought.

No one was going to die over this.

The street fires were being lit when Buck raced down the boardwalk toward the jail. He was surprised when he got there to see Chris, Vin, Josiah and Ezra.

"Who's on patrol?" he asked a little confused.

Chris shifted in his seat. "Got trouble here."

Buck opened the door to the jail and went in. He picked up the keys and locked J.D.'s guns in one of the cells. The keys were then hidden in the empty coffee pot.

"What are you doin', Buck?"

"Well, Chris, it's like this . . . if J.D. ain't got his guns, he can't shoot anybody."

Ezra sat to the side with a bland expression. "Don't you think he may have a reserve?"

"Now, Ezra, don't complicate my brilliant plan with your logic."

Ezra sighed. "You didn't look to see if he had a back-up?"

Buck just grinned. "Now, don't be like that, Ezra. I've saved your purty little skin from being shot up. I'll leave the fist fighting up to you."

The gambler made a face. "Too much like menial labor."

-------

At dawn, J.D. woke up with the dry feeling you get after crying. His throat was scratchy and raw and his head pounded with a headache. His hand went to the bedside table for his drinking glass and his pitcher of water. After a moment of puzzlement, he remembered that the missing glass had suffered for his bad temper.

He sighed and stretched out his cramped muscles. Hours of sitting in a hard chair in Nathan's clinic and then hours of being immobile in his bed were starting to tell on his body.

Casey.

With some rolling and pushing, he got himself to the edge of his bed. He really didn't want to get up and face the day. Eventually, he was going to have to do something about Ezra and Casey.

A doomed feeling settled over him. Today was the day. Things were going to happen and happen quick.

He stripped off his clothing and flung them on the end of his bed. J.D. poured the water in the pitcher into his basin and washed his face and upper body.

'No use to go to a fight looking like you just came from one.' J.D. snorted to himself in typical Buck fashion. That sounded a lot like something Ezra would say.

Ezra Standish . . . the man was a hundred men rolled up into one. He was smart, but got into some dumb situations. He seemed like a coward, but he would gladly throw his body into danger.

He was a friend.

Then Casey's pale face came to him and his anger started all over again. His future, her future, it was all gone now. It was just another dumb situation for the gambler, but it had destroyed something that could have been beautiful for two people.

J.D. jerked a new shirt out of his closet and dressed in his wrinkled coat. His bowler hat went on next. As he was reaching for his prized guns he stopped cold.

Where the hell were his guns?

Then he remembered who was with him last night. "Buck!"

-------

In front of the jail six men waited for the youngest of their group to wake. Most of them had snoozed at the jail waiting for morning. Only Ezra slept in his own bed comfortable in the belief that J.D. would be under the covers long enough.

They all gathered in front of the jail and, as time dragged by, all of them were as edgy as a man covered in honey walking through bear country. All were edgy except for Ezra. He harbored no delusions that a good sleep would dampen the ardor of J.D.'s rage.

Love can make you do things . . . violent and unthinking things. Ezra knew this from experience.

A young voice screeched Buck's name and Buck winced. "Don't sound like he's calmed down much."

"Nope," grunted Chris Larabee, remembering the early days after his family's death. He couldn't remember a time before joining up with the six other men that his temper hadn't run hot and violent. They were not pleasant memories and he hoped that J.D. didn't do something that he would regret for the rest of his life.

"Buck!"

"Your young law protégé is calling you, Mr. Wilmington," drawled Ezra in a calm voice. He shifted in his chair to unbuckle the gunbelt at his waist and untied the thongs from his right thigh.

Vin opened his mouth to object, but Ezra just handed the rig over and then turned his attention to his shoulder belt. "Please put these with J.D.'s guns."

As Ezra finally struggled out of his shoulder holster and held it out to Vin, Buck quickly pushed his arm down. "You might be right, Ezra. He could have another gun."

Ezra Standish was a conman, a gambler and, when the time was right, a son-of-a-bitch. He sure as hell wasn't a killer of mixed up kids grieving for their injured lady friends.

His eyes were shadowed by the lingering night as he looked into Buck's warm eyes. "I'll burn in hell before I shoot J.D. Dunne." His voice was soft, allowing his Southern accent to wrap honey around his words.

"Ezra—"

Ezra turned his eyes from Buck to Chris. "Burn in hell, Mr. Larabee."

Josiah gave a strained chuckle. "More than likely you're already gonna do that, Ezra."

"Then I'll come by that end in the course of honest conning, not the killing of innocents."

J.D. Dunne turned to corner of the block that housed their regular haunt, the saloon. His face was a study of pain and anger, both emotions dancing in the street fires' light.

Ezra cursed under his breath at what he saw when he could see J.D.'s features. Close behind was a mutter from Chris.

"Boy has worked himself into a righteous anger," observed Josiah as he placed his hand on his gun. Then he hesitated. Whom was he going to protect? Should he protect the angry boy coming down the street or the world-weary conman sitting by his side?

What he thought would be an obvious choice suddenly seemed dark and murky.

Ezra didn't look left or right once his jade eyes fell on J.D.'s form. "Stay out of this. Don't back me when it starts."

"What in the hell?" asked a surprised Buck.

Of all the men who made up the Seven, Buck thought he understand Ezra the best. Right now was not one of those understanding moments as he glared at his gambling friend.

Since the beginning of The Magnificent Seven, Ezra found himself following Buck around like a colorful shadow from time to time. They were a good match in humor, life experience and opinions. However, Ezra knew he was a grown man and J.D. was just coming into his own. As much as Ezra wanted Buck to stand beside him during this hardship, he didn't want the big-hearted man to be forced to go against J.D.

Nor did he want the others to go against their resident little brother.

"Don't back me. Whatever happens, J.D. goes back to Miss Wells at the clinic."

The compact gambler reconsidered his slept in vest and his hat. He tossed both items to Buck. Buck heaved a great sigh and passed them to Vin. Vin silently stood and stored the items away in the jail not bothering to find the cell key to lock them away.

The sun was coming. Black was giving way to gray and to the color of expensive sapphires. The street fires were flickering with the last splinters of wood.

"Maybe we can just throw him in a cell," mumbled Nathan Jackson as he shot a look in the direction of the clinic. Nettie Wells was sitting with Casey as she slept after a hard night of pain.

"No," replied Ezra sharply. "No more waiting. The sooner this is over the sooner he'll get back to where he belongs."

One of the town's dogs pranced up to the storming J.D. with his tail wagging and his head bowed. This usually earned the mixed breed a pat on the head but J.D. stomped by without a second look. The dog wagged its tail a few more times then gave up to go chew on a scrap of old leather thrown out by the livery stable.

"Ezra, maybe it'd be best if you got your horse and headed for Whitley Pass to catch the train out," said Josiah as he caressed his cross with the hand that had covered his gun. "You said Maude was in Georgia."

"Hell, Ridge City is better to catch the train," groused Buck.

Ezra didn't reply, his eyes still focused on J.D.'s form in the morning light. His voice was only a breath above a whisper when he spoke to himself, "It is the character of a brave and resolute man not to be ruffled by adversity and not to desert his post."

"What did you say, Ezra?" asked Vin in confusion, not quite catching what the man said.

"He was quoting Cicero, Vin." The former preacher looked over at Ezra, "I don't think Cicero had this situation in mind when he put that into words."

Vin still looked confused.

Josiah sat forward in his chair making it creak. "He ain't leaving."

"Hell, you don't need to prove you're brave, Ezra. Done enough of that to make yourself bleed," said Chris in his smoky, gritty voice. "It's not running out a coward if you do it to not kill a friend."

"Not to worry, Mr. Larabee. I won't be doing any killing today."

With that, Ezra Standish stepped off the jail's boardwalk to meet his youngest friend in the middle of the street.

-------

J.D. Dunne began to have his doubts the closer he came to the jail. He could see all of his friends, his brothers, lined up on the boardwalk in a variety of chairs filched from the saloon and restaurant.

'They look . . . together,' his mind spat at him. 'Nice and cozy.' His hands tightened into fists and his doubts were left behind him. 'After what he did, how can they sit there with him? Casey's in pain for the rest of her life and Ezra's sitting there without a care in the world. Bastard.'

It was morning now, but the hazy blue shadows were still huddled before the buildings on the northeast side of the main street.

'Son-of-a-bitch!' snarled J.D.'s brain as Ezra Standish stood from his wooden chair and came forward into the light.

J.D. stopped in front of the saloon that they all used in times of leisure. J.D. hadn't been in there more than a few seconds since Casey's accident. Ezra's presence was too strong in the place for J.D.'s comfort.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" the kid shouted to Ezra in front of the jail.

Ezra nodded his head then squinted into the sky. The sun was rising to his far right, not quite in his eyes. He turned his still features back to the youngest of the group. "I will not argue that point with you, Mr. Dunne."

John Dunne suddenly flashed on every dime novel he ever read. Almost every one of them had a scene like this: two men standing in the street of a Western town.

The excitement that J.D. usually had over those scenes suddenly chopped off like a lumberjack felling a dead tree. Didn't seem as exciting now that he was standing in his town's street facing his former friend.

"She's in pain 'cause of you," came the hard words from a soft looking boy.

Nathan stood up quietly and moved closer to the street. "J.D., she's alive because of him. The pain came from me. Maybe I need to be out in this here street too."

J.D. flicked angry, dark eyes at the town's healer, "You wouldn't have had to touch her arm if he hadn't cut off the blood."

"If you're placing blame, how about me? How about Nettie? How about Casey for—"

Ezra turned the side of his face to Nathan but kept his jade eyes on J.D. "Nathan," he said softly, "sit down. Don't back me and stay quiet." J.D. wasn't yet ready to listen to reason. There was no use wasting the breath to talk to him right now.

"Ezra, this is all foolishness."

"Sit down," came the hard rejoinder.

Nathan studied the gambler for a moment, remembering easier times. "You don't have to throw yourself away, Ezra."

"Mr. Jackson, that boy has the ten years I wasted. Whatever happens here today, he's not going to throw his next ten years away."

Chris Larabee shifted in his seat. "If he kills you, he's going to jail. Ain't no way 'round that, Ezra."

"Not even J.D. can get out of that, no matter what you want, Hoss," murmured Buck, his hands tight on his gunbelt, his eyes trying to pick out all the warnings in J.D.'s face across the street.

Ezra sighed out enough air to start a tornado. "Go inside, gentlemen. I can't do this with your interference."

Chris was about to tell the smartass gambler to go to hell when Josiah shook his head at him. They all slowly got up from their chairs and automatically adjusted their guns.

Vin hissed under his breath to catch Chris' attention and then pointed up the street to the clinic that was just out of view. Chris' eyes widened as Vin mouthed Casey's name. Without waiting for a response, Vin faded into the shadows of the boardwalk and ghosted away.

J.D. didn't even notice his leaving, his brown hazel eyes intent on Ezra's green ones.

The rest of The Seven reluctantly filed into the jail but they refused to shut the door.

-------

Vin Tanner understood the pain of a sick loved one. His right hand rested on the cut-down Winchester at his hip and briefly contemplated the future. He didn't much care for the conclusions he came to. Either way this fight went, things weren't going to be the same.

From time to time in Vin's life, things changed and not always for the better.

His Ma died, and he was forced to move on without her. He served his country and he was forced to move on after the Surrender. Vin hunted the buffalos and had to get another job when they done run out. Then Tascosa happened—

Life was all about changes and he understood that to some degree, but this wasn't something that had to be . . . it wasn't time for him to move again.

He was not leaving this town and his friends just yet.

Against his own good sense, he was going to get reinforcements to help him stay in his new home.

There was only one person that could maybe stop all this and that was Casey Wells.

The door of the clinic flew open and Nettie Wells went for her gun. She nearly broke her hip getting to it and raising it to the clinic's door.

"Vin Tanner, I ought to tan your bottom red," she huffed to catch her breath.

Vin took a second to blush at the thought of the woman taking her hand to his bottom. He hadn't been spanked since . . . well, it had to be going on twenty years. "Casey awake?" he asked in his gravel voice.

His blue eyes were intent as he looked over to the girl in the bed.

"Well, if she weren't, she is now," muttered a light voice with a sharp edge of pain.

Vin tried to look ashamed, but failed. This was for his family. "Casey, can you get out of bed?"

Nettie looked shocked. "Vin!"

"Casey, you been out here a while and you're mostly a woman grown, so I'll talk plain like a woman deserves." The tracker looked into Casey's eyes to make sure she understood.

She must have because she started to ease herself up higher in the bed.

"Your man's about to do something that's stupid."

Casey gasped and struggled to sit up higher, her aunt coming to her side to help her. "It's Ezra, ain't it? J.D.'s been so bitter since I woke up."

Vin nodded. "We took his guns, so I don't think they'll be a shootin', but things are bad."

"Where is he?" The slim girl dragged at her heavy sleeping shirt to untangle her legs. She grunted as the stump began to throb with a stronger pain at her movement. "Dang fool," she muttered as she pictured J.D. fighting with Ezra. "Got no sense a'tall sometimes."

Vin snorted at that comment. "Nope, most men in his position ain't got a lick of sense."

It was Nettie turn to snort. She remembered a few things from her family years to agree with Vin. "I 'spect you want to go on down and yell at the boy?"

Casey nodded, her dark hair bobbing. "I sure do. Where are my boots?"

-------

Ezra was going to walk the fine line between fighting and throwing a fight. He didn't want J.D. to get the idea that he was winning just because Ezra was letting him win. It would be another blow to his already shaky manhood.

The plan was simple. Let J.D. beat him until the boy recovered some of himself without letting the beating get too bad.

Normally, Ezra wouldn't worry about J.D. beating him, but anger and pain was on the Easterner's side.

"How could you do this?" asked J.D. with a small quiver in his voice. "You know what you've done?"

Ezra just nodded again. This wasn't the time for lectures or explanations. He just wanted to end this nasty business.

Ezra looked over J.D. and decided to move things along. With J.D. worked into a state, it wouldn't take much to touch him off.

Ezra raised an eyebrow at the kid.

J.D. Dunne's dark eyes widened. He took six long, quick steps forward and punched Ezra right over his gold tooth.

Ezra allowed himself to hit the dirt.

"You . . . you, coward! Get up!"

'Think nothing of this,' Ezra gasped in his head. 'He's angry—upset. Just do what you came here to do.'

Ezra regained his feet and put up a token defense hoping J.D. was too mad to notice. "I'm up," said Ezra through a busted lip. Blood drained out of his cut and down his chin to stain his formerly white shirt a bright red. Ezra didn't bother to wipe it away as he was sure more was to join it soon.

J.D. took a moment to pull off his jacket and hat and flung them unwatched to the dirt. The jacket was making his arms feel tight when he raised them to his ready position. He didn't want anything getting in his way of grinding the conman's face into the ground.

J.D. stepped in for another hit but missed when he swung wide. "Damn gambler." He tried again and connected with Ezra's right shoulder. He grinned when the force of the hit to Ezra's body hummed up his arm.

Felt good, damn good to let out the anger. It felt even better with the anger directed at Ezra.

Ezra hissed at the pain in his shoulder and realized he would have a large bruise over the joint before long. 'Are you sure you want to do this?' a voice that sounded a lot like his mother whispered in the back of his mind. 'Just go. There's nothing keeping you here to take this kind of punishment.'

"No," said Ezra, surprising J.D. out of his smirk, "I won't this time." Running never brought Ezra anything but pain and regret. That time in his life was over.

Josiah and Buck stood in the doorway of the jail while Nathan and Chris looked out of the window. At each hit that Ezra received from J.D., there was a curse muttered or a wince.

"What is he doing'?" demanded Buck as he watched Ezra take a punch in his gut.

"Letting J.D. have his way, looks like," answered Nathan. "Has to be by choice, cause anyone that held off a saloon full of angry cowboys can sure hold off a kid."

"Besides, I don't think Ezra wants to hurt the boy," added Josiah.

Buck huffed. "Damn sure didn't make a difference when me and Chris fought way back when. I think that was usually when I got my ass kicked the hardest."

Chris Larabee didn't blink at Buck's comment. "Damn right. I can still kick your ass anytime you need it."

Josiah shook his head at the long-time friends. "I wonder where Vin went to. Not like him to be gone at a time like this."

Chris leaned against the window with his forearm, his chinstrap tapping lightly between his chest and the glass. "Went down to the clinic to talk to Casey."

Nathan's eyes flew to his leader. "What? Is he outta his mind? That girl needs rest."

Chris let his hazel eyes narrow at the healer. "No, she needs to be here when her man tries to let his life be destroyed over some pigheaded, foolish notion. And it's not just his future he's throwing away."

"Besides, knowing the Wells family like we do, I'm sure there's nothin' goin' to keep her away," smirked out Buck. "Whooee, that boy is gonna get his ears boxed."

-------

Casey tottered between Nettie and Vin, still in her off-white nightshirt and wearing a pair of worn work boots.

Vin was holding on to her on her right side, leaving the sensitive stump side to Nettie. He didn't want to hurt the girl none.

As they moved, Casey used words that Vin didn't realize that she knew.

"Damn sure gonna kick his ass when I get there. What is he thinking? Ain't thinking a'tall, is what. Most likely his brain ain't even involved. Has to be thinking with that thing hanging—"

"Casey," said Nettie sharply.

Casey didn't look sorry for what she said. "Just telling the truth, Aunt Nettie. You always told me to do that."

Nettie looked over at a blushing Vin who kept his eyes away from the womenfolk. "Yes, speak the truth, but there is such a thing as being a lady."

Casey snorted as another pain thrummed through her left arm. The arm that wasn't connected to her physical body was giving her the devil. "Well, he ain't being no gentleman. I'm gonna treat him the way he's acting."

The three slowly limped by the hotel and the bank. It was in front of the General Mercantile that Casey decided she'd come far enough. J.D. would have to do the rest.

J.D. was on his butt in the street from Ezra's left-handed punch. He put a pale, shaky hand to his nose to feel the slippery feeling of fresh blood. "Son-of-a-bitch!"

Ezra stood wearily nearby and contemplated punching the boy again. His patience was seriously at its limits concerning this matter. The plan of letting J.D. beat him in a fistfight was taking forever to complete. The boy just wasn't the best hand for fistfighting.

J.D. dragged himself up and squinted at the older man in front of him. His burning anger was gone after the first five minutes of the brawling. Now there was a driving need to finish what he started. The reason for the fight was beginning to fade behind the idea of seeing the gambler out cold in the street.

Ezra rotated his left arm to test it for strength. J.D. had snuck in a body shot to his tricky shoulder and it was beginning to ache. 'Boy hits harder than I thought.'

"J.D.!" squalled a trembling voice from behind Ezra.

Buck flinched back from the open doorway when the female voice came from his right. "Damn! As shore as my name is Buck—uh, Buck Wilmington, that kid is gonna get it now." He was practically giggling when J.D.'s head snapped around and glared up the street.

"J.D.! What in heaven's name are you doin'?"

"Casey, get back to the clinic. You shouldn't be walking around in your condition."

Casey Wells was visibly trembling on the arm of her aunt. Many who saw her condition were hard pressed to say what caused it: her pain or her anger.

The young woman allowed her eyes to travel over her beau and her friend. She could see patches of blood on Ezra's plain clothing. J.D.'s, on the other hand, was clean except for some street dust.

"I'm tired of you ignorin' me, J.D."

J.D. allowed his arms to fall flat to his sides in shock. "Ignoring you? I've been at the clinic almost every minute since they let me go up there to see you."

"You won't there to see me." Casey took a moment to lean a little against her aunt, her strength starting to drain away. "You was there to complain about Ezra and the fact that I'm too damaged to marry."

J.D.'s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. "Casey," he whispered out in a strangled voice. "That's not true!"

Ezra heaved a sigh and allowed himself to drift back from the kid until he could sit down on the raised boardwalk. He put his left forearm on his knee and used his right hand to pull out a handkerchief from his pants pocket to dab at his lip and nose.

A soft sound heralded the movements of Nathan as he crept out of the jail to take a quick look at Ezra's condition. Buck wasn't far behind.

"Ezra, Ezra, Ezra," drawled Buck at he ran a critical eye over the conman's face. "Hoss, ya gotta learn to duck once in a while."

"How astonishing, Buck. I'd have never thought of that," lisped out Ezra from his fat lip.

Nathan gently probed both his shoulder joints, earning a hiss for his efforts. "Sore?"

A gold tooth flashed in the morning sun in a grimace from Ezra. "Some."

"Are you done with this?"

Ezra turned to look Nathan in the eyes. "I was done with this from the beginning. It's up to J.D. if this particular fight is over." He turned his weary eyes to Casey. "Whoever thought to get Miss Casey?"

Chris leaned in the jail's doorway as Josiah eased his bulk back into his former chair on the walk. "Vin."

"Did I ever mention that Mr. Tanner has impeccable timing? One more punch from that boy and I was going set loose my dogs."

Buck gave Ezra a hearty slap across the back causing the battered man to grunt. "Aw, it weren't that bad a beatin'. The kid barely touched you."

Ezra studied J.D.'s face as Casey fussed at him. "That boy is too easy of a sell. I really need to broaden his horizons before someone tries to interest him in a cotton gin."

"Yep," answered Buck as he flopped down beside Ezra. "That boy was sure he had to load up for bear," Buck looked at the Southern man's bruised face. "I'm glad he tangled with a jackrabbit instead." He took a moment to squeeze Ezra's knee. "Thanks for that."

Ezra inclined his head. He had never intentionally set out to hurt J.D. Dunne and he never would.

-------

Vin allowed his grip to tighten as Casey shivered in the morning air. She paid no mind to it as she bored a hole in J.D.'s head with her hot gaze.

"Look over there, J.D. That's your friend with the blood on his face. The first one of 'em that shook your hand when you joined up. I recall you telling me about that and how proud you were of that moment." She shook her head. "You done spit on it now."

J.D.'s pale face got even whiter. He always had a clear image of the day Chris Larabee told him he could stay with the group of men. He had been so thrilled that he wanted to shake someone's hand. The only one that offered was Ezra. It was a moment that always brought warmth to his gut just like Buck's teasing about his hat.

J.D. gave a quick glance over to see Buck and Nathan by Ezra. Nathan was running his hands under Ezra's shirt to check his ribs. Flat green eyes met his look. J.D. turned away, suddenly not able to look at the other men.

He avoided Casey's reference to the handshake and stuttered out a denial. "I—I didn't mean to make you think that you were too damaged for marriage, Casey. I got no right to make you feel that way in the clinic."

Nettie kept her face still to keep her humor on the inside. Males of the species were sometimes easy to read and sometimes difficult. J.D. was as clear as a mountain stream right now as his fight battered hands picked clumsily at his dusty clothes.

"Weren't just me, J.D. You made Ezra feel awful for being a gentleman and helpin' me out. His help was more than you did on that day."

J.D. flinched like she'd slapped him. 'Oh, god, I missed meeting her to take her home that day. Damn Buck for not getting me up on time.'

Casey could tell he was looking for someone else to blame. His eyes were faraway and building in anger again. "J.D., just stop. Stop. Ain't nobody to blame for any of this." She felt gravity clinging to her knees as her body seemed to increase in weight. Her mouth was getting dry and a pounding headache started behind her left eye.

"Things happen. It's a rough land during a rough time. I was in a hurry and I had an accident."

With another attack of the shivers, Casey's body decided that she'd done enough. Her petite frame gave out and she was stopped from sitting in the dirt by Nettie and Vin's hands on her.

At Ezra's quick intake of air, Nathan turned to the street. "Ezra, I gotta—"

"Go, Nathan."

Nathan took off down the street to the young woman. The healer took her from Vin and Nettie and gently lifted her off her feet. Nettie and Nathan took out at a brisk walk back to the clinic, Casey's head on Nathan's shoulder.

J.D. stood in the middle of the street and started to panic. On the boardwalk was a good friend bleeding from injuries he had inflicted just moments ago. Disappearing down the street was the woman he loved and had dragged out of her warm sickbed by his foolishness.

"J.D., Kid, go with her," prodded Buck from beside Ezra who still had his handkerchief to his lip.

"Ezra, I—"

Chris flicked his eyes down the street. "J.D., go now."

J.D. twisted his fingers in his untidy vest and then hurriedly ran down the street.

Buck gave a goofy grin as he went to retrieve J.D.'s hat and jacket from the street. "You're a good man, Ezra."

Ezra snorted as he looked at his ruined shirt and handkerchief. "Please."

-------

The day dragged by. A hot sun prevailed, driving the shadows from the town and baking the dust. Even the animals in town had to rest in the heat.

Ezra was back at his table in the saloon drinking 'medicinal' whiskey for his aches and pains. His lip wound had closed but it was still a terrific shade of red and purple. His drinking routine had boiled down to three actions. They were lifting his glass to sip the whiskey, placing it gently back on the table when he was done and then rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the stiffness.

Movement appeared in the corners of his vision as he stared at the tabletop, but he refused to look up. Ezra was done for the day. Closed for business.

"Ezra," came a tentative voice lined with worry.

Ezra heaved a sigh. "J.D."

"Casey wants to see you. Make sure you're all right."

Ezra was tempted to laugh, but decided his stomach wasn't up for it. "Is the maid well?"

J.D. put a hand on one of the chairs caught between sitting down and asking for Ezra's permission first. "Just tired."

Ezra nodded and contemplated his 'medicine' again. There were perks to getting into a fistfight. It was almost a law that you had to get loaded afterwards. "Excellent."

J.D. finally decided to just sit and if Ezra had a problem with it, let the conman kick him out the saloon door. "Thanks—thanks for lettin' me live."

Ezra snickered at that. "Well, it was an interesting mornin'."

"You could have put me down the minute I walked up to you."

"Wouldn't have solved a thing."

J.D.'s eyebrows pulled together. "Hell, didn't solve a thing by hitting you either."

Ezra's jade eyes looked up from his drink and he raised an eyebrow. "Made you feel better."

The kid huffed. "Maybe . . . at the time. Did make me feel a little better seeing you hit the dirt."

The Southern gambler just nodded and knocked back another shot of whiskey. He made a face and let the burn settle to his stomach.

"It's just that . . . things were all wrong. Still are. I don't know what to do," ground out J.D. "After I messed around with that woman bounty hunter I knew I screwed up. Things were just getting' back to normal between me and Casey these last few months." He brushed a lock of his black bangs from his eyes. "Then I overslept and she left without me that mornin'."

Ezra didn't respond. He didn't need to. J.D. was now talking to himself.

"I was goin' after her, I swear. But I got a complaint about a thief an' I had to do my duty." J.D. was practically muttering. "Damn sure makes me want to quit again. Second time now."

Ezra just nodded, remembering the first time J.D. tried to quit being part of the law in this hot and dusty town.

"I'm sorry, Ezra. I should have just been glad she wasn't alone and in pain—"

"Son, I know."

J.D. hitched up in his chair and leaned forward wanting the gambler to understand. "I just—I just couldn't see past me not being there like I should have. And she was in pain and scared when we got her to town. Almost tore my heart out."

"I know," murmured Ezra. "You needed someone to blame. I know, J.D."

"It was better to run you into the ground than think about her living like this for the rest of her life."

Ezra sighed, knowing that J.D. needed to say all of this, but not wanting to hear it right now. His memory was raw and his body in pain. Now was not a good time for him.

J.D. heard the sign and hesitated, not certain if Ezra was agreeing with him or contemplating throwing him out of the saloon. "Are . . . are we good, Ezra?"

Ezra's mood softened at the faint question. Who could deny this boy? Not him and certainly not one of the others of the group. "We are fine, J.D. Just fine."

J.D. sat back with a shine to his eyes. "I'm sorry, Ezra."

"I know."

Silence fell between them as Ezra went back to pouring whiskey and J.D. studied his puffy fingers. "Casey, on the other hand . . ."

Ezra suddenly smiled. Was he ever like this? He really couldn't remember.

"Amor vincit omnia," Ezra said softly.

J.D. just looked at him and waited.

"Love conquers all things," he translated for the kid of the group.

J.D. smiled faintly. "You sure?"

Ezra tried not to think too hard about it. "As sure as I can be, J.D."

"So, that will work for me and Casey?" asked J.D. with a hopeful look.

"With some work. You best be getting back to her."

J.D. nodded and stood. "She wants to see you."

"I'll be there."

Ezra watched the boy weave his way through the tables and chairs to go back to the clinic and the woman he loved.

From the shadows of the saloon came a voice. "You all right?'

Ezra smiled. Mr. Tanner. "My hero," he stated with mock adoration in his voice.

Vin stepped forward and laughed. "I thought you might appreciate my timin'."

"It was a stroke of genius, Vin. Casey said just the right things to him."

Ezra poured another glass of whiskey and Vin sprung forward to snatch it away and down it before the conman could protest. "Casey's waitin'."

Ezra groaned at the thought of standing. Shaking his head, Vin stepped forward and dragged him out of the hard wooden chair. "You believe what you told him?"

Ezra shrugged and then regretted it. "What? That love conquers?"

"Yeah."

Ezra tried to straighten his clothing, but the whiskey was beginning to fog his brain and numb his hands. "To the best of my ability, Mr. Tanner."

Vin Tanner nodded at that and helped direct the gambler to the saloon door.

Love . . . Vin never thought of it when he thought of their little group. Men usually didn't contemplate such things unless pushed to it. The tracker wondered if J.D. really appreciated how much Ezra loved him. How much they all loved him like a little brother.

Vin couldn't really remember the last time he felt such a bond between men except for the days he served his country so long ago.

Ezra stopped at the swinging doors of the saloon and squinted out into the street. Vin gently put a hand in the center of his back and pushed him out onto the walk.

"Come on, I'll help you up the clinic steps," drawled the Texan in amusement.

"Much obliged, my friend. This is just another example of your impeccable timing."

Then two friends walked down the street of a small town that they swore to protect with a gathering of found brothers.

END