Please see Chapter 1 for warnings and disclaimers.
A/N (Sorry for the short chapter but I was having trouble moving on to the next section and decided to post so I would leave this part be. I'm not quite satisfied with it and it is not terribly fluid, but I kept re-reading and tweaking it instead of focusing on the next part.) Hope you find it entertaining despite it's shortcomings.
Chapter 3
The next day Ethan was quiet all morning, though careful to be respectful when he did speak. An ecstatic Mrs. Hollis met them at the door with her prize hen, Henrietta in her arms. The bird had mysteriously appeared on her porch last night and the old widow was so happy that she waved off the need for Ethan to do anymore work for her. Thus they had moved on to the livery where the boy mucked stalls, quite obviously less than pleased with the task. Just before lunch, Ethan seemed to perk up and the boy the men had first met seemed to reappear. Over lunch, he was laughing and cracking jokes. He didn't even offer a complaint when Chris insisted Nathan give him a once over to make sure he was healthy.
Ezra kept an eye on the boy as he worked at the hotel in the afternoon. The card sharp was impressed with how well the lad scooped in the chambermaids, managing to avoid the most onerous of tasks. He was a smooth talker and had the two young women practically eating out of his hand. When the scamp went a touch too far Ezra would clear his throat and the boy would offer the gambler an impish grin and then set diligently to work for a while.
As he watched the boy work, the former confidence man compared the lad's carefree air and relaxed demeanor with the child's behavior this morning. He would have described the lad as brooding and skittish earlier. Something he'd noticed last night as well. Ezra puzzled over the change throughout the afternoon.
Supper too was a far more pleasant affair. Afterward Ethan played Nathan to a draw in checkers and lost a game of cards to Ezra before bedding down in the jail cell, where Chris again stayed the night with him. The next morning Ethan started work in the hardware store after breakfast. When lunchtime came around it was once again a more sullen Ethan that settled down at the table.
Ezra, who'd only just risen after having spent the entire night at the poker table, kept looking at the boy, thinking something was definitely different.
"I thought you had a scar just by your right ear," the former conman finally said.
"You thought wrong I guess," Ethan replied with a note of sarcasm in his voice.
"Watch your tone," Chris warned.
Vin looked thoughtfully at Ethan, but held his peace.
"So where you workin' this afternoon?" Buck asked the ten-year-old.
"How should I know? Ask the warden," Ethan answered flippantly, pointing to Chris.
"The woodshed if he keeps up the attitude," Chris said evenly, glaring at the boy and wondering what had brought on the surly disposition once more. "Otherwise, the boot and saddle store."
M7~~~M7~~~ M7~~~M7
"I noticed that you seem to be as bothered as myself by the inconsistencies in our young charge," Ezra said to Vin later that afternoon, taking the seat next to him at the bar.
Vin nodded, "Yeah, that an' a couple of other things. I woulda bet ya an eagle that those tracks around Ethan's stash was brand new, just made."
"And JD's report of him arguing with himself in the outhouse," Ezra noted with a shake of his head. "I've heard of people in an asylum who change temperament and personality at the drop of a hat and talk to themselves as well, but you've only to look into the boy's eyes to know he isn't crazy. That leaves only one reasonable explanation."
"Ya thinkin' their switchin' places?"
"It would appear. One does not have a scar one day and not the next."
"Twins huh? We best go tell Chris."
"Ethan, or whoever it is that is currently working at the boot and saddle shop, would become aware of our suspicions. Might I suggest that you put your tracking skills to good use and see if we can find where they have been secreting themselves before alerting the miniature delinquents that we are on to them?"
M7~~~M7~~~ M7~~~M7
Chris propelled his wayward charge into the cell with a solid swat to his backside, before slamming the bars shut and locking the door. He knew he needed to calm down and get a little bit of space from the impudent brat lest he give in to the temptation to take a strip of hide right off the boy. "I suggest you sit on that bed and hobble your lip until supper time."
"And what if I don't?"
"I might just shoot you!"
"Well, fine, but it ain't my fault! She is a busybody old bitty an' I think that was puttin' it nice. What I done's not any o' her concern. Ain't my fault her grandsons are crappy poker players nor that their playin' cards at all. Though she's right in that they got no business doin' it cuz they're both dumb as posts!"
"Ethan," Chris growled, his temper holding on by a mere thread.
The boy flopped on the bed with a huff. Just as he'd finished up at the boot and saddle shop, the elder Mrs. Jones had come over to harangue the young thief about plaguing their town and corrupting their youth, namely her grandsons Emmett and Jimmy (who were actually two and three years older than Ethan, interestingly enough). Since Ethan hadn't stolen anything from the woman, he really didn't consider it any of her business and told her so in no uncertain terms. Unfortunately, Chris had witnessed the whole affair and after offering a few firm smacks to the boy's backside on the spot had demanded he apologize. Then the gunman had marched the boy down to the jailhouse.
Casting an annoyed glare at the man sitting behind the desk the boy muttered, "Ruttin' bastard."
"What did you just say?"
The boy shrugged. "I think you heard me," he replied his tone challenging.
"That's it! You've been asking for this since lunch." Removing his gunbelt and laying it aside, Chris grabbed the keys and made his way over to unlock the cell. Before opening it he reached for the buckle on his belt and swiftly drew the leather through the belt loops. He was surprised that despite the fear in the boy's eyes, Ethan didn't back down or offer an apology. In fact when the gunman reached for him, Ethan stepped toward the man. Taking a firm hold of Chris's arm the boy then sunk his teeth into it before letting go and kicking him with all his might, catching the blond peacekeeper totally off guard. He then turned to run, slamming the cell door behind him.
Fast as a jackrabbit Ethan was out the front door of the jailhouse and down the boardwalk where he ran smack dab into Buck. Seeing no other choice, Ethan drew back and rammed his head full into the tall peacekeeper's midsection, dropping the man to the ground and leaving him cussing up a storm. The boy kept running, well able to hear Larabee behind him now. Somehow he managed to duck into a side street and scramble under a porch, crawling across under the structure to make his escape.
M7~~~M7~~~ M7~~~M7
"You really think it's him?"
"Think there's a good chance."
"Well, what're we gonna do? We can't just leave if it is."
"Don't you think I know that?"
"Maybe if'n we took a look 'round his room."
A curly copper gold head bobbed in agreement. "That is a good idea and they will not be looking for you right in their own den."
"Yer slippin' again."
A hard green glare was the only response.
"Hey, yer the one that said we needed to sound like most every other kid out west. Ain't my fault it comes ta me more natural," Ethan chuckled. He knew how much their current lifestyle grated on his twin. The need to adopt a more relaxed speech mannerism and stay unkept as well as unwashed had bothered Ethan far less. Actually, he found it kind of fun. Still not nearly as amusing as watching his fussy twin muck stalls and shoulder other menial tasks, though. That had been a real laugh.
This time his comment was met with a silent eye roll, but there was no time for a silly sibling spat. "We'd best get a move on."
Ethan grabbed the rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. "You really bit Larabee?"
"And brought Buck to his knees like a gospel sharp at prayer time," though the words were arrogant the small voice was riddled with remorse. The tall peacekeeper had always been friendly and kind, insisting that they use his first name and always trying to lighten up tense moments.
"Buck'll be a bit more forgivin' I'm thinkin' but if Larabee gets a hold o' you," the boy shook his head. "Ya sure ya don't wanna just leave it be and take off whilst we have the chance?"
Ethan's words were met with a snort, "You kiddin'? We gotta find out one way or the other."
TBC