Magnificent Seven
"Lil' Ones"
Summary: In this Old West Alternate Universe: JD Dunne is seven, Vin Tanner is eight, and Ezra Standish is nine. All three wind up in Four Corners and all three end up in the care of Chris Larabee, who is the town's sheriff. Buck Wilmington is his deputy, Josiah Sanchez is the town's preacher, and Nathan Jackson is the town's doctor.
Author's Note: I have recently found the M7 "little" universe and absolutely loved it, for the most part. I especially loved the "little" Ezra stories. I must admit I have not actually seen the show, but seeing as how this is an AU story that wouldn't (or shouldn't, anyway) matter. I know enough about the characters to make it work–I hope… This will be a sort of blending of the "Little Britches" universe and the "Little Ezra" universe—with my own twist, of course ;) If you like "kid fics" I'd suggest reading these. They are great.
Warning: Spanking of minors. (Naturally, since this is the Old West.)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just wrote this story for fun. Enjoy.
Chapter 10: The Lil' Gambler
Four days.
Four days he'd been in Four Corners without word, until today.
Ezra now knew Maude wasn't coming this time. He glanced down at the telegram he'd gotten this afternoon.
Maude Standish arrested *stop* for fraud *stop* sent to prison.
Ezra didn't quite know how to feel, and he wasn't really sure he felt anything at all.
So, mother was finally caught, he thought glumly to himself.
Too bad for her, but what did it mean for him?
What am I to do? He asked himself. He had no idea.
He was nine years old, alone, and carrying around a substantial amount of money in a small Western town that was more than likely crawling with men who would just love to get there hands on it.
In fact, most of them were probably downstairs in the saloon right now…
The sounds from downstairs drifted to him, and it was then that he was struck with an idea. He couldn't spend Maude's money, even though the more logical side of his mind knew she certainly wouldn't be coming for it now, but that didn't mean he couldn't win some of his own to get him back to St. Louis.
I'll take the train this time, he told himself. I'll start over.
He quickly made himself look presentable, the way she had always taught him, and then made his way downstairs.
In the four days since he arrived, he had left his room only to acquire food and to check with the telegraph office. He had made certain to stay well away from the jail, and its two lawmen…and those two boys, whom he'd learned were the sheriff's adopted sons.
Once downstairs, he looked around the crowded saloon until he saw what he was looking for. Despite the fact that Inez had spotted him the moment he'd stepped off the stairs, he didn't pay her any attention. He had to focus if he was to achieve his goal, and that was to win some money off drunken men ripe for the taking.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he greeted the four men playing poker. "Do you perhaps have room for one more in the game?"
The four men, all of whom were smoking cigars, looked at him and laughed. "Ain't it past yer bedtime, kid," one of them sneered, taking a chug from his mug of beer.
"Yeah," another agreed, "bet yer mama's wonderin' where ya are!"
Ezra forced his hurt feeling down, and gave them his most charming smile. "My mother isn't here, gentlemen," he told them, "and I go to bed when I choose. If it is a matter of capital, I can assure you have more than enough to enter the game." He pulled out the cash he had left and showed it to them.
The four men all glanced at each other and smiled. Sure, they'd let him in. If the kid was willing to throw away good money, they weren't going to stop them.
Ezra had seen those looks before and knew from experience that these allowed his age and youth to misjudge him. He grinned as they told him to pull up a seat and dealt him in.
"So, gentlemen," he asked, grinning. "What are we playing this evening?"
An hour later, he had wiped the floor with the lot of them and taken every last cent they had.
"Well, gentlemen," he said, smiling widely at his victory, "it's been a pleasure." He reached to take his winnings, but one of the men laid his hand down.
"Not so fast, sonny," he growled at him. "I don't know how, but there's no way a runt like you could have beat us!"
"Yeah," another man agreed. "I say you cheated!"
"You know what we do to cheaters, boy?" a third growled, drawing a knife from somewhere.
Ezra's eyes widened, and he had to fight to remain calm. "I can assure you, gentlemen," he said, his voice sounding very shaky to his own ears, "that I in no way cheated. I won fairly."
"Well, kid," the fourth man said, menacing, "the four of us says otherwise." He stood up to join the others, all of them prepared to leap on the boy.
"Now, boys," a deep male voice spoke, "I don't reckon four grown men ganging up on one small boy are fair odds, do you?"
They all looked to see Sheriff Chris Larabee standing there, thumbs tucked into his belt regarding them seriously.
"You stay out of this, Larabee," one of the men growled. "This is between us and the kid here. He cheated!"
Chris raised an eyebrow. "Can you prove that, Carl?" he asked him, pointedly.
The man growled. "No," he grumbled, "but how else did he beat us?"
Chris shrugged. "The boy might just be good at cards," he said, "there isn't an age limit, you know. Now, why don't you boys just be gracious losers and head on home. Now." The last was a command and they all knew it.
Rather than risk the fury of the town's principal protectors, the four men grumbled and growled a few minutes more and then departed, leaving Ezra standing in one piece and with the money still intact.
The boy gulped, as the sheriff hadn't left with the others. He merely continued to stare at him.
"Did you cheat, son?" he asked him, raising an eyebrow.
Ezra glared at him. "No, Sheriff," he told him, indignant, "I did not."
"Awfully odd to see a boy playin' poker," Chris commented casually, though his eyes said he was more than a little interested in the boy.
Ezra glared at him. "As you yourself said, Sheriff," he told him, annoyed, "there is no age limit on skills with cards."
Chris nodded. "That's certainly true," he said, "but it's not so much a surprise when the kid in question is the son of a con artist."
Ezra's eyes widened. He knew! "I beg your pardon, Sheriff," he lied, "but I haven't the faintest idea what you're referring to."
Chris' eyes hardened. "I don't take kindly to being lied to, son," he told him, his voice stern, "so why don't we go up to your room and have a chat."
Ezra crossed his arms. "And if I refuse?" he asked, defiantly.
Chris shrugged. "I can always pick you up and carry you," he threatened. "Either way works for me."
Ezra sighed, and looked down. What was he going to do? "Actually, Sheriff," he told him, "I think I prefer option C."
Chris smirked. "There is no option C, son," he told him.
Ezra smirked back. "Of course, Sheriff," he told him, "there is always option C." That was when he reached behind him and grabbed the bottle of whisky one of the men he'd been playing cards with. He promptly threw it at the sheriff's head.
The moment Chris ducked to avoid being hit by the bottle, he was off like a rocket. Up the stairs to his room, he locked and bolted the door. Chris had flown up the stairs directly after him, and now pounded on the door.
"Open the door, son," he growled, "otherwise I'll have to break it down and Inez won't like that one bit."
Ezra snorted as he grabbed his carpet bag and climbed out the window. "As I said, Sheriff," he muttered, as he slid down the roof from the gutter pipe, 'there's always an option C." In this case, he ran.
He had just reached the jailhouse when he glanced back to see Chris running after him. There were two horses tethered in front of the jailhouse, and without really thinking he grabbed the reins of the first one and hoisted himself onto it. He then spurred the horse around and galloped off.
Great, he thought to himself, now you're a thief. You really do want to end up like Maude!
"Damn!" Chris swore, stopping a moment to catch his breath. He couldn't believe he'd let that kid trick him!
"What happened?" Buck asked, running out of the jail. "Did ya go talk to the kid?"
"I never got the chance," Chris growled. "He threw a whisky bottle at my head and then took off. He just stole my horse!" He pointed to where the kid was riding off on Shadow.
Buck didn't know whether to chuckle or pat his partner in sympathy. "Take my horse," he told him. "I'll stay with the boys." JD and Vin were sound asleep at the boarding house.
Chris nodded, and swung into the saddle of Buck's stallion. "Thanks," he said. "Wait 'til I get my hands on that kid. His ass is mine!"
Buck chuckled. "Just make sure there aren't any rocks around," he told him. "He's liable to throw one at you."
Chris growled and kicked his heels. Buck's horse shot off after the kid.
Ezra rode in complete in utter terror. How had things gotten to the point where he was running from the law!
Okay, so maybe he and Maude had been running from the law all his life but this was different.
This he couldn't lie at his mother's feet, as this was his doing. Not only had he thrown a whisky bottle at the sheriff's head, but he'd also stolen the man's horse…at least he thought it was Larabee's horse.
The sound of galloping hooves sounded behind him, and he looked back to see the sheriff riding at full speed after him.
He paled, and turned back around…just in time to see a low hanging tree branch right in front of him.
Not having enough time to duck, he was thrown from the back of the large stallion and landed hard on the ground, all of the air being forced from his lungs. Everything went black for a moment.
When his vision cleared, he found Chris Larabee standing over him. "You all right, son?" the sheriff asked, concerned.
Still a bit winded, Ezra could only nod his head.
"Anything hurt?" Chris asked the boy.
Ezra shook his head no.
Chris nodded. "All right then," he said, "let's get you on your feet." He bent down and lifted the boy to his feet. He made sure to keep a firm hold on the kid's collar to keep him from running away.
Ezra was aware of this and when he got his voice back, he growled, "Unhand me, Sheriff."
Chris smirked. "I ain't in the habit of taking orders from kids," he told him, sternly, "especially those that lie and steal."
He pulled the boy over to the where his carpet bag had fell and picked up up. That made Ezra very nervous.
"Give me my bag, Sheriff," he told him, hotly. "It's mine!"
"Hold yer horses, kid," Chris told him, "I'm just gonna see if anything was broken." He flicked the clasp with his thumb, and was about to shake it open.
"No, you can't," Ezra growled. "Give me the damn bag!"
Chris gave him a shake. "You know something, kid," he growled at him, "I'm getting' mighty tired of you tellin' me what to do and I really don't like it when little boys swear at me. If I had a bar of soap handy, I'd be wiping yer mouth clean with it."
Ezra glared at him. "Please," he begged, "just give me the bag."
"In a minute," Chris told him, and shook the bag open. He peered inside, shook it around a bit, and then let out a whistle at what was in the very bottom.
Ezra didn't need to be told that he'd found the money that was in it, the look on the sheriff's face confirmed.
"Well now," Chris said, glancing down at the boy, "that's a mighty hefty sum for a boy your age to carrying about, don't you think?"
"It isn't mine," Ezra told him, sullenly.
"I kinda figured that, Lil'Bit," he told him, "so the question who's is it?"
Ezra continued to glare at him. "My mother's," he told him, "and she won't appreciate at you taking it."
"Just like the men she took it from, no doubt," Chris said, "didn't appreciate her taking it from them." He shook his head. He couldn't believe this boy's mother had bilked men out of their money and then sent her son alone into the dangerous West carrying it.
"How did you know?" Ezra asked him, curious. "About my mother?"
"We received a wire today," Chris told him, "telling us to be on the look out for an Ezra P. Standish, a little boy that matched your description was given and that you were carrying around a carpet bag with cash in it. It also told us about your mother."
Ezra sighed. "How did you know it was me?" he asked. "I never told you my name."
"You told my boys, though," Chris reminded him, "and JD just couldn't wait to tell us all about the strange kid he and his brother had met."
"Oh," Ezra said, sighing. "So, are you going to take me to jail?"
"I probably should," Chris admitted, "seeing as how you did attempt to assault a lawman, fled custody, and stole my horse…but quite frankly, son, you look like you've had a rough enough day without spending the night behind bars. So, I think we'll head back into town and I'll keep you company tonight. Tomorrow, we'll figure out what to do with you."
Ezra sighed. So much for any hope of sneaking off in the night…
"What about the money?" he asked him, curious.
"It goes back to where it came from," Chris told him, firmly.
Ezra nodded, understanding.
Chris pulled him along to where Shadow had stopped once his small-sized rider had been dislodged. Chris lifted Ezra into the saddle and then climbed up himself.
Grabbing the reins of Buck's horse, he kicked his heels gently and steered Shadow back towards town.
Ezra sat in front, wondering what the morning would bring.
Jail or the Orphanage, more like than not, he told himself.
Neither prospect sounded particularly thrilling to him.
TBC…