Chapter Two
He awoke sweating and swearing in the half-dark of early morning, acutely aware of the trembling in his hands and the way the fading scars on his back seemed to itch and sting from the cold perspiration. Ezra drew one deep, shuddering breath and swung both of his feet from the twisted sheets to rest firmly on the rough warmth of the braided rug beside his bed. Raking a hand through the tangle of his hair, he willed himself away from the clutches of the old nightmare. Blindly, he made his way to the window, threw open the sash and breathed deeply of the crisp night air. The early morning breeze was cool and sweet as it wrapped around him, chasing away the bite of the lash and the sound of his own screams that still echoed too loudly inside his own head.
He pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window pane and closed his eyes for a moment, willing the trembling to stop. The nightmares were not as frequent now, but the still troubled him every few months or so. Usually when he was least expecting them He never knew what triggered them, but he was fairly certain he knew what had done it tonight. The situation with Inez had been too close for comfort. The knowledge that her fate had relied upon him alone pressed down upon him like a weighty mill stone. He had never cared for the responsibility that taking action in such situations required. What if he had miscalculated? What if he had missed it altogether? She could have been dead. They both could have been. The last time he had underestimated a seemingly less than formidable adversary, he had gained little for it save the silvery marks of the healed scars that crossed his back from shoulder to hip. It was little wonder that the nightmare and the memory had chosen to revisit him this night.
He stared moodily out the window at the faint gray light that was starting to filter across the landscape, lifting it from darkness, holding it in that gray purgatory that reigns just before sunrise. There would be little sense in going back to bed. The new day was here, and he'd never be able to sleep anyways. The damnable part of it was that it was too late for tobacco and too early for whiskey. He sighed. The only remaining option was to seek out a decent cup of coffee.
Splashing a bit of water into the china wash basin on the dresser, he quickly performed his morning ablutions and sought out a clean shirt. Only when he was as impeccably attired as he could make himself on the minimal amount of sleep he had obtained, did he draw on his frock coat, depart his room and descend the stairs.
The large Regulator wall clock chimed half past five as he opened the front doors and stepped out to speak to Vin Tanner, still keeping vigil on the boardwalk out front.
"Coffee?" He suggested mildly.
"Sure." The front legs of the chair in which Vin had been reclining came back to the floor with an audible thud.
Nodding his bleary approval, Ezra turned and threaded his way through the tables to the kitchen. It was a single long room that ran the width of the building, opening out onto the tap room from either side of the bar. It had been nothing short of a cesspool when he had taken over the establishment, but Inez had wrought miracles during her tenure. Vin snagged a gleaming tin pail from the dry sink and headed down to the cellar to fetch water from the spring. Ezra looked thoughtfully at the rough hewn excuse for a dry sink, worn smooth by Inez's constant scrubbing. It wouldn't take much to put in a small kitchen pump to bring water up from the cellar. Doubtless, such an improvement would save Inez constant trips up and down the stairs. Realizing that he had actually just spent several moments contemplating the complexities of kitchen conveniences for an establishment he didn't even own only strengthened his resolve. He definitely needed more coffee.
The Southerner turned his attention to the mammoth cast iron cook stove. It dominated the room, reminding him of some black, foreboding dragon. He was not much of a hand with the thing, it being purely Inez's domain. Fortunately for his limited culinary skills, she had banked the fire well before closing up for the night, and the night being relatively short, it kindled easily back to flame.
Rummaging around on the shelves where she kept her staples, he located a bag of coffee beans and a grinder and was dumping a drawer's worth of grounds into a battered enamel coffee pot when Vin returned with the water. No conversation was made as the water was set to boil. Vin stepped out to the back porch to retrieve more firewood. Ezra retrieved the coffee cups.
The clock was chiming a deep and resonant six a.m. as Ezra strode out to his usual table with the coffee. He placed a cup of the steaming brew before Vin and dropped into his usual seat, kicking aside a chair upon which he rested his polished boots. Each man took a sip of the hot, bitter drink and contemplated the morning sunlight that was threatening to filter through the windows. It was Vin who finally broke the silence.
"You thinkin' of goin' after Jake?"
Ezra smiled wryly, "The prospect does hold a certain appeal."
He set down his coffee, "No," he said at last, "I'm not going after him."
Vin digested this for a moment. It was not the answer he had somehow expected, but then Ezra never was one to be predictable. Given the dramatic scene he had walked in on the night before, he would have bet the solitary dollar rolling around in the bottom of his pocket that Standish would have been riding out to find Jake McQueen and beat the living hell out of him before the sparrows woke up. As was typical with any type of wager involving the gambler, he would have bet wrong.
Had it been anybody else in that situation, Buck or JD or –hell, even Larabee on one of his bad days or rare chivalrous moods—he wouldn't have given a plug nickel for Jake's chances of surviving the week. If Buck had even been in town instead of out escorting a prisoner to Watsonville, they'd probably be digging McQueen's grave right now. Vin had to admit that even he'd had to restrain himself from the temptation of abandoning his watch and riding after the bastard when he'd discovered the snake had left town. Any of the others would have already been on the trail …but not Ezra. Perhaps he couldn't see the percentage in it.
Vin mentally checked himself. No, that wasn't fair. Besides, the theory didn't quite fit. It wasn't that Ezra didn't care, he decided. In fact, it was quite to the contrary. Last night Standish had been as furious as Vin had ever seen him. It was easy to tell when Ezra was angry, once you got to know him. The madder he got, the calmer he appeared. He dropped all the pretense of the fancy five-dollar words he so often hid behind and spoke instead with a clear, crisp eloquence that would freeze the blue blood in the veins of a Virginia politician. Last night had been a fine example of that. No, Vin decided, there was more to it than there seemed. Ezra had seen something in the whole incident that none of the others would have, and it was that alone that held him back. The more he thought about it, the more Vin had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what it was.
"It's probably for the best," he said at last. His blue eyes moved up the open staircase to the rooms above. "She's tried mighty hard to be accepted around here. She wouldn't care for the talk it would make."
Ezra laughed harshly. "Well, regardless of whether or not McQueen gets his due, there's going to be an abundance of conversation, isn't there?" He looked sourly out the window and up the street to where the town's neatly kept homes and businesses sprawled. "Good Lord, what a mess! Once the word gets out, I've little doubt the good women of this town will be chattering like magpies."
"'Tain't easy to keep anything quiet in a place this size," Vin agreed, taking another swig of coffee. "But I reckon it'll blow over soon enough. These things always do. Shoot, you should know. Most of the womenfolk don't even blush any more when you walk past."
Ezra scowled at the gentle jab. After his infamous poker game with Big Lester Banks he couldn't so much as cross the street without a herd of women gasping and twittering like a flock of overwrought canaries. It had been a full three weeks before Gloria Potter could look him squarely in the eye when he entered her store to make a purchase, and there were still occasions when he caught Mary Travis glancing at him with such amusement and speculation that he was tempted to question the purity of the good lady's thoughts. All in all, the whole experience had been more than enough to remind him why he generally avoided entanglements with the female sex.
Only Inez had seemed to take it all in stride. She had simply gazed at him as he had darted in from the street that day, shaken her head, and smiled. The fact that he had been wearing little but a scarlet color in his cheeks that rivaled the brilliance of his favorite frock coat seemed to faze her not at all. She simply gathered her tray of drinks upon her shoulder and moved back into the crowd of thirsty patrons, dispensing the orders with her usual wit and efficiency. Much as he deeply wished to pretend the entire thing had never happened, Inez appeared to be the only person capable of the feat. In fact, for all the notice she had given the incident, one might have thought men habitually conducted poker games in her establishment without the benefit of clothing. It was little wonder she had to keep a constant vigil about her reputation in this town. Her association with him and his colleagues undoubtedly placed it in frequent peril.
Ezra shrugged off the distasteful memory. "That was different. The situation, regrettable though it was, was of my own making. Given the complexities of my profession, I am prepared for assaults upon my character –or the assumed lack thereof."
His voice lowered as his gaze ascended to the upper balcony, where the door to her rooms was just barely visible. "She is a good woman," he said quietly. "She doesn't deserve the speculation this will create."
"No, she don't." Vin agreed. "But she's been through worse. I think she can handle it." His blue eyes sharpened. "Besides, you never know but what some good may come out of your little drama last night."
"And what, pray tell, might that be?" Ezra asked, his voice dismal.
The Texan grinned. "Once it gets out just exactly where you shot that fella, I guarantee you most men will think twice about laying hands on Inez."