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 12: Settling In…well, Sort Of

"I am not wearing that," Ezra declared to Chris, firmly.

He was referring to the simple cotton shirt and tan denim breeches the man had just laid on his bed.

They had all headed out to the ranch just yesterday, three days after Ezra had agreed to come stay there, so this was his first official day there.

Chris crossed his arms. "You want to get your other clothes dirty?" he asked, bluntly.

Ezra glared. "No," he muttered, sourly.

"Then you'll put them on," Chris told him, firmly. "Here, Ezra, every body pulls their own weight. Every body does the chores, and for you three boys that means dustin' and sweetin' inside the house, and mucking out the barn before feedin' the horses outside the house. Now, put those clothes on and follow me. I'm gonna show you what to do in the barn."

Ezra crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him stubbornly. "And if I refuse?" he asked him, defiantly.

It was bad enough he had to share a bedroom with JD and Vin, whom he now knew didn't like him, and it was bad enough that the sheriff had confiscated his playing cards—not to mention his winnings from the other night—but to force to actually dress in plain clothes and do menial labor was just too much for the little gambler to take.

Chris shrugged. "Then I turn you across my knee and give your rear a good blisterin'," he told him, sternly, "you still put on the clothes and head out to the barn—only you have a very sore backside to take with you. It don't really matter much to me, Lil'Bit, but I'm sure it would to that lily-white hide of yours."

Ezra gulped, hearing the steel behind the man's words. He'd never received a spanking in his life and he had no intention of getting one now. "Fine," he said, huffing. "I'll wear the clothes."

Chris smirked. "Good," he said, "now get to it while I get breakfast started. JD and Vin have been up and dressed for nearly an hour now."

He probably shouldn't have allowed the boy to sleep longer than his new bunk mates, but he had figured that Ezra was going to have a hard enough time adjusting to ranch life without starting off on a bad foot the first day, so he'd let him sleep a little longer. Now, however, he saw that he was just going to have to be firm with the kid.

Ezra looked at the clothes with distain, but did go ahead and put them on.

If Maude saw me like this, he thought to himself, she have a fit!

Of course, it was still probably a lot better than what they gave her to wear in prison.

Sighing, he headed out of the room he now shared with the two younger boys. Thankfully, the sheriff had the foresight to build them bunk beds so that Ezra had a bed to himself and didn't have to share.

He found Chris, JD, and Vin in the kitchen. The two other boys were sitting at the table while the sheriff dished out scrambled eggs onto four plates. Buck, whom he learned had a room at the ranch too, was in town; which he preferred seeing as how all of his 'ladies' were there.

"See there," Chris said, encouragingly, "they don't look too bad on ya."

Ezra wrinkled his nose, but didn't say anything. "May have just have some coffee, Sir?" he asked, taking a seat at the table.

"Coffee at yer age, son, is liable to stunt yer growth," Chris told him, teasing. "You boys get milk. Besides, yer gonna need yer energy for muckin' out the barn."

Ezra sighed as a plate containing eggs and toast was sat in front of him. Remembering it was impolite not to eat something without having a good reason for refusing it, he picked up his fork and started eating it just like JD and Vin.

Chris sat down also, after pouring himself a cup of coffee, and started eating.

They ate mostly in silence, and when they were finished the sheriff instructed the boys, "All right, Vin washes, JD rinses, and Ezra dries."

Ezra blinked. "I don't understand," he told him, honestly.

Vin snorted and JD giggled. "We're washin' dishes," the younger of the two other boys told him. "Ain't ya ever washed dishes before, Ez?"

"It's Ezra," the little gambler said, "and no, Master Dunne, I have not."

"Well," Chris told him, grinning, "now's as good a time as any to learn. 'Sides, it ain't that hard, all you do is wipe the dish dry when JD hands it to you."

Ezra nodded, following the others to the sink. He sighed again.

Chris almost sighed himself. I've sure got my work cut out with this one, he thought. JD and Vin hadn't ever been raised on a ranch before coming to him, either, but both had come from dirt poor families and had adjusted easily.

Ezra had been raised to be think of himself as a gentleman and gentleman didn't do dishes…or any other work that would get their hands dirty.

Well, their gonna get dirty now…whether he likes it or not.

The dishes were done soon enough, Ezra figured things out quickly enough, and Chris got up from the table.

"All right, boys," he said, "me and Ezra's gonna head out to the barn so I can show him what to do out there. You two get started dustin' and sweepin', alright?"

"Yes, sir," Vin answered, "we will."

"After we get the dustin' and sweepin' done, Pa," JD asked, "can we get the bat and ball?"

Chris had whistled them a fine baseball bat, and Buck had bought them a rather nice glove to use, but they had been busy in town so much that they hadn't really had a chance to try either out yet.

"Sure, Lil'Britches," the sheriff answered, "but you'd best make sure you do a good job first. Otherwise you'll have to do the dustin' and sweepin' all over again."

"We will," the two boys promised, smiling.

Chris nodded, knowing they would. They were good boys.

"C'mon, Ezra," he told the older boy, patting him on the back, "let's go get to muckin'."

Ezra wrinkled his nose, but followed the man out the door and out to the barn.

"I bet he gets it all over him," JD said, grinning, "just like I did first time I mucked out the barn. You think he will, Vin?"

Vin shrugged. "I reckon so," he said. "He probably won't know which part of the pitch fork to hold."

Seein' how he ain't ever done a lick of honest work in his life.

He didn't really like the fact that their father was going to have to spend so much time with the older boy, showing him what to do on the ranch. He didn't like it one bit, just like he didn't like having to share a room with the little gambler, either.

JD grinned. "It'd be funny if he stuck Pa in the rear with it," he said, giggling.

"I bet Pap wouldn't think it was funny," Vin told him, though he did think it would be funny to see their father running around the barn grabbing his behind and howling.

He sighed. "C'mon, JD," he told his little brother, "you get to dustin' and I'll get to sweepin'."

"Ah," JD groaned, "I hate dustin'!"

"Well, I don't much like sweepin'," Vin reminded him, "but this way we're sure not to miss nothin'."

"Why's that?" JD asked, wondering at his brother's logic.

Vin smirked. "Cuz," he told him, "we'll make sure we get it right the first time so's we don't have t do it again."

JD smiled. "Good idea," he said. "C'mon, let's get to it. I want first crack with the bat."

Vin nodded. "Well, I want first crack at the mitt," he told him, "so I guess that's all right."

Then, the two brothers set about getting their chores done.

Out in the barn, Chris showed Ezra had to take the shovel, scoop up some manure, and toss it out the back door of the barn onto the compost heap they had back there.

"That s perhaps the most disgusting thing I have ever seen," Ezra said, disgusted.

Chris chuckled. "I reckon so," he said, "but it's got to be done. It's bad for the horses to step in it."

"I wonder why," Ezra said, sarcastically, waving his hand in front of his nose at the stench.

Chris smirked. "The smell don't bother the horses none, son," he told him, "but it sure don't do 'em no good walkin' around in it. It messes up their hooves after a while, wears 'em down. It'd be like a pair of shoes rubbin' blisters on yer feet."

"Oh," Ezra said, understanding.

Chris nodded, glad to see the boy was actually paying attention. "After you muck out the stall," he instructed, "you take the pitch fork and get some fresh hay. Then ya dump it in the stall so that the horses will have a warm, soft place to bed down for the night." He demonstrated this as he talked, so that the boy would understand what to do.

Ezra watched, not really wanting to, but still he watched and listened. It seemed simple enough, even if it was disgusting.

Chris finished with the stall he was doing and handed the boy the shovel. "Now you try?" he told him, pointing to the stall beside it.

Ezra sighed, again, as he took the shovel and doing just as the sheriff had done scooped up a pile of manure. It took all his effort not to allow his breakfast to come back up, but he managed to dump the disgusting stuff onto the compost heap and come back for more. He had soon cleaned out the stall and then got the pitchfork to put fresh hay into the stall for the horses.

Chris nodded, approving. "There you go," he said, grinning. "Now, just do the rest of the stalls just like that one, and then take that broom there in the corner and sweep out the barn. I'm gonna be fixin' that loose board on the porch there so after yer done come get me."

Ezra nodded. "Very well, Sheriff," he said, solemnly.

"You know you don't have to keep calling me "Sheriff", Ezra," he told him, "or "Sir", even. As long as yer bein' respectful I don't mind ya callin' me by my name."

"Thank you, Sheriff," the little gambler told him, "but I believe I will stick to "Sir" and "Sheriff" as they are your titles."

Chris sighed. "All right, son," he told him, patting him on the shoulder, "go ahead and get started."

Ezra watched him go. "I'm not your son," he whispered to the man's back.

I'm nobody's son now, he thought as he started to muck out the next stall. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he quickly brushed them aside. He had work to do, so he had to get started.

It took him nearly an hour, but he managed to do everything he was supposed to do in the barn. By the time he was finished, he was hot, sweaty, and completely filthy. He didn't even want to think about what was in his hair or on his face at the moment.

Putting the shovel, pitchfork, and broom back in the places Chris had gotten them from he exited the barn and went in search of the sheriff.

Just as he stepped out of the barn door, however, a baseball—or a rather worn out ball that used to be one—rolled and hit is foot.

"Nice hit, Vin," JD called out, running after the ball his brother had just hit.

Ezra bent down and looked in the direction of the other two boys. They had obviously finished their chores rather quickly and gone on to play with the bat and ball they had mentioned earlier.

"Hey, Ez," JD said, smiling, "me and Vin are playin' ball. You want ta play, too."

Ezra looked at Vin, saw the glare sent his way, and shook his head. "No thank you, Master Dunne," he told the younger boy, handing him the ball, "but I would rather not."

He then turned and headed toward the house in search of Chris.

JD watched him go, wondering why he didn't want to play. "I wonder why he didn't want to play, Vin?" he asked his brother after running back over for his turn to bat.

Vin shrugged. "Reckon he just didn't want to play," he said, though he knew he had been the cause for the older boy's refusal. He felt a bit guilty, because for just a moment it looked as if the other boy really did want to join them.

Ezra brushed off his hurt feelings, or rather he buried them beneath the same walls he did everything else. You don't have time to play games, he told himself. The Sheriff is allowing you to stay only as long as you earn your keep.

This thought firmly in mind, he headed around to the back porch to find Chris hammering the loose board back into place, or rather hammering a new board he'd cut to fit because the other had been plain rotted out.

"I've completed my task in the barn, Sheriff," he told the man.

Chris looked up, and grinned at the boy's sweaty appearance. "You must have worked real hard," he said, standing up and working the kinks out of his back, "from the looks of ya."

He reached out removed some hay from the boy's hair. He chuckled. "JD looked the exact same way the first time he mucked out the barn," he told him, "only he was covered in a lot more crap than you."

Ezra wrinkled his nose. "I suppose," he said, "that is one comforting thought."

Chris rolled his eyes. If it was one thing he was determined to do, it was to get the kid to start talking like a normal kid and not like such a prissy little blue-blood.

"C'mon," he said, "let's go over to the corral."

Ezra followed him, wondering what chore he could possibly have for him near the pen they kept the horses—when they weren't roaming, that is.

Chris hopped up onto the fence post and patted it for him to do the same. It took him a moment, but managed to do it.

"See those?" the sheriff asked, pointing to where some half grown horses were grouped together.

"Yes, Sir," Ezra answered him, wondering what was so important about them.

"The one black one with the star and socks is JD's," Chris told him. "He's called Pony. The reddish-brown one belongs to Vin, and she's called Lady. I figured you could have the palomino."

Ezra blinked, glancing at the beautiful young blonde stallion. "I don't understand," he said, "what do you mean?"

Chris grinned at him. "You can't live on a horse ranch without havin' yer own horse, Ezra," he told him, "so I'm givin' him to you—just like I gave JD and Vin theirs."

"Won't they mind?" Ezra asked, figuring Vin certainly wouldn't appreciate his father giving him anything, especially something as valuable as a horse.

"Why should they?" Chris asked him, shrugging. "They've got their own already."

Ezra nodded. "I don't have any money, sir," he told him, "how am I to pay for him?"

Chris shook his head.

If I could my hands on his mama right now, he thought, I'd horsewhip her for teaching him that everything was about money!

"I wasn't expectin' ya to pay me, Ezra," he told him, firmly. "I'm givin' him to ya."

Ezra shook his head. "I don't except charity, Sheriff," he told him, stubbornly.

Chris' nostrils flared. "It ain't charity," he told him, sternly, "but if ya want think of it this way…yer gonna need a good horse otherwise ya won't be able to do some of the stuff that yer gonna have to do livin' here so it's really a way of me makin' sure yer gonna be able to pull yer own weight…"

Even though I don't give a damn if ya pull yer weight or not, this is your home now.

He wished he could get the boy to see that, but figured it was going to take time.

Ezra nodded. Being given something because it granted the giver something in return was something he easily understand, so he nodded. "All right, sir," he told him, "I promise I'll take care of him."

Chris nodded. "I wouldn't give him to ya if I thought you wouldn't," he told the boy, gently. "C'mon, I'll show you how to groom 'im."

He hopped over the side of the fence and started for the young palomino.

Ezra followed, and even though he knew it was just a loan, he couldn't help but smile.

For a little while, at least, he would have his very own horse.

I think I'll call him Ace.

TBC…