PART 3:

The cat, who had been occupying the far corner of the bed gave them an unhappy look and refused to move as they maneuvered around it. It remained a curled gray ball and glared at them when they settled a quilt over Standish. Ezra didn't make a sound, falling into an instant and exhausted slumber.

The couch was not long enough to comfortably support a man the length of Buck Wilmington, and certainly not size of Josiah Sanchez. Buck tried his luck with it anyway, having to throw his long legs over one end. Josiah slouched into the chair, saying that he'd do just fine.

Buck didn't believe it.

They were too tired from the day's events to complain… much.

Buck woke as daylight came through the window. He blinked and took a moment to recall where they were. Waking up in such a room wasn't out of the ordinary for him, but finding himself there with Josiah and Ezra was new.

His legs exploded in pain the moment he moved them off the couch's arm. His legs, from the knees down, were dead-weight with no feeling whatsoever. It took several moments of pounding and stomping to bring some life into them.

"Enough already," Josiah called thickly. He had moved the chair beside the bed at some point during the night, and had managed to sleep half-on the chair and half-on-the-bed, his neck crooked to a fantastic angle. "Enough…"

Once Buck shuffled onto his numb feet, he angled himself across the room to run into the chair. Josiah, eyes still closed, took in a long breath as if he intended to continue sleeping.

That earned him a slap on the head. Josiah snorted, snapping his head up, and letting out a bellow of discomfort as he rubbed his aching neck.

The gambler turned his head and gazed at them, his face an even darker mottle of blacks and purples, his eyes mostly swollen shut. He seemed puzzled to find Josiah's legs trapping him in place. "What was that sound?" he mumbled.

"A bear," Buck told him, jabbing at Josiah. "A bear tried to crawl into your bed last night."

Ezra languidly took in their circumstances and poked at Josiah's legs. "Definitely a grizzly," he determined. He tried to turn to his other side and seemed surprised to find a cat stretched out, its long gray body tucked in against his side.

Josiah was working his shoulders and neck, trying to get the kinks out as he slowly moved his legs out of Ezra's way. "Not the most comfortable way to sleep," Sanchez grumbled. "But we make do, don't we?"

Ezra tried to work his elbows under him, but the cat made it difficult. The creature glared at the intrusion to her sleep, and then she stood as if she was being very inconvenienced and stretched slowly and pointedly.

Ezra waited until she, as slowly as possible, moved off the bed to stand by the door.

Ezra finally eased himself upright. "You found a place for us," he stated. "Must not have been easy." And he smiled when he noted the stiff movements of his friends, and realized that there was only one small bed in the room. "I must have won the bet," he stated, rubbing at the soft quilt that covered him.

"You're the pathetic so-in-so that got us into this room, so I guess you won something," Buck responded.

"Where exactly are we?" Ezra asked.

"Miss Fern lent us her room for the night," Buck told him.

"Miss Fern?" Standish looked around the room. He considered unfamiliar name, and then said, "The madams always have the best rooms." And he settled back into the pillows.

Wilmington gave Ezra a gentle thump. "Think you can get up? We've probably worn out our welcome."

Ezra seemed to think a moment, then nodded. He drew the quilt off his legs, and slowly, carefully sat up and, with a groan, moved his feet off the bed. He gave Buck and Josiah an irritated look, saying, "I usually don't have an audience."

"Just get the show on the road," Buck said. "It's time we got moving." But still, they were patient, and Josiah offered an arm to help Ezra stand.

"I fear I am stiffer today than yesterday, but may be less sore," Ezra said as he made a careful step, and then another, before reaching for his torn jacket. He frowned as he examined the state of it. He sniffed it experimentally. "It smells like a campfire," he grumbled.

"Smells like half-cooked southerner, you mean," Buck stated.

"Wish I had brought my luggage with me from Cedar Ridge, but I'd expected to go back there on the afternoon train."

"Well, if you'd brought your bag on the Columbia, it probably would've burned with the cars."

Ezra nodded at that logic, and when Josiah held up his boots, he sighed and sat down on the side of the bed to allow the preacher to help him.

They left a few minutes later, after doing their best to set the room to right. The cat said nothing, watching them with baleful eyes. When they finally opened the door, she darted out into the saloon.

The bartender watched with an impassive eye, but seemed intrigued to find three men leaving the madam's room.

The Beacon was surprisingly crowded despite the hour, but coffee seemed to be the drink of choice. They found Fern waiting for them at one of the tables, and shuffled into the awaiting chairs.

The bartender arrived with three mugs of coffee and set them up before wordlessly returning to the bar.

"Forgive me for not joining you in a morning repast," she said, petting the gray cat who'd found a spot on her lap, "but I'll be off to sleep soon. I hope you enjoyed your night. Was it comfortable?" And her lips puckered in a smile, taking in their movements. "Which one of you folded yourself onto the couch?"

Buck raised hand.

"And nobody figured that the bed was large enough to share? I've shared it plenty of times."

"He crawled halfway in," Buck said, indicating Josiah.

"Just used it as a leg rest," Josiah said, looking abashed.

The cat who kept her suspicious gaze on the men.

"Men can be so foolish," Fern declared.

Ezra smiled, and curled his hands around the coffee mug, taking a moment to savor the warmth of it. "My dear Miss Fern, I thank you profoundly for your kindness in allowing such cretins into your private residence. I am exceedingly grateful."

"We're all mighty thankful," Josiah added.

"Think nothing of it," she responded, then turned her attention to Ezra. "How are you today, dear? You look awful."

"I've been better," Ezra returned, lifting the mug to her. "Your exceedingly comfortable bed certainly helped."

"I am expecting payment," Fern told him flatly.

"Of course," Ezra's gracious smile fell only a little as he settled the mug on the table. "Of course… was the price determined last night?" And looked to the others.

Fern waved her hand, and leaned forward onto the table. "You all are from Four Corners, aren't you? I want information. I want to know what's going on with that trial. I've been hearing all sorts of tales about the Sahales and want to hear it from folks who know. Now, tell me a story."

The three exchanged glances. They hadn't been sworn to any secrecy, and most of what they knew as common knowledge. "How much do you know already?" Buck asked.

"I heard that two brothers with big ranches fell in love with the same woman from some middlin' town. And then all hell broke loose."

"Well," Ezra said, leaning back in his chair with a wince. "That's the short story. But yes, the brothers – Adam and Robin - both believed they were given their land in their father's will. Two substantial properties separated by a river. The best way to cross from one property to the other was at a bridge, at a tiny town called, conveniently enough, Bridge Town." He held the mug in both hands, keeping it close to his face. His voice took on a honeyed tone as he continued, "The lovely Helen Witt lived there and ran a tiny tavern in that tiny town. Both brothers went through there often, and she was favorable to both of them."

He closed his eyes. "She had them both twisted around her little finger and soon had proposals out of each. And at some point, the brothers discovered that each other was taking a … dip in the pond. They directed their anger at each other, setting each other's buildings ablaze and rustlin' cattle back and forth between the two lands. The poor animals all ended up double-branded."

"Then they started blowin' things up," Buck interjected. "Slippin' onto each other's' land and dynamiting whatever they could put a hand to. They say debris was flyin' every-which-way for days."

"One of them ended up blowing up the bridge to spite the other," Josiah told her.

"So, we brung them in. To put an end to their shenanigans," Buck added.

Ezra took another sip of coffee and said, "That's when they both claimed to own the other's ranch. Robin declared that his father willed him Sahale North along with the South because he was the favorite son, and then Adam claimed the same about the South. If either of them owned both ranches, then the other brother could be charged with all the destruction. Why would they damage their own property?"

"That's ridiculous," Fern stated bluntly.

"So many things regarding love are," Ezra said. "And since they were pointing fingers at each other, and it has become very difficult to sort out."

"So, you just need to prove who owns what," Fern stated plainly. "There's got to be a record somewhere."

Ezra nodded. "That is exactly what I was dispatched to find, but I came up empty. Someone was at the records office at City Hall before my arrival at Cedar Ridge and ransacked everything. Ty Sahale's will would have been on file there, as well as any deeds for the property."

"And nothing is recorded anywhere else?"

"Cedar Ridge has the closest thing to a county seat in these parts," Josiah told her. "The information should have been there."

Fern frowned. "So, what happened to Helen?" she asked.

Buck sighed. "She's a firecracker. Pretty thing, but full of fire and ready to fight everyone about everything that's been going on. I think she's waiting for the chips to fall so that she can figure out which brother is gonna come out of this with his fortune intact, and that's the one she'll go with."

Fern shook her head. "She's just a poor girl caught in the middle. Probably didn't understand what she was getting involved with and was just wanting a better life."

"Or she maybe she's a gold digger," Buck commented. "Just playin' with their hearts."

Fern nodded. "I don't take sides in such matters," she said. "But I don't cotton to that sort of behavior. It does all women a disservice." She picked up the cat from her lap, and cradled it like a baby as she stood. After a moment she settled the animal on her chair and told her, "Now you go out and have some fun, Sweetie-girl."

The cat just glared.

Fern smiled, and said "I thank you for the tale, gentlemen, but I need my beauty sleep. I will bid you adieu." And Fern sauntered off to her room.

They sat in silence for a moment or two as they drank their coffee, and the cat watched them. Not able to handle that stare, they turned their attention to the activity in the street.

"It'll take some work to clean up all," Josiah said.

"They have brought in many strong backs," Ezra responded, and sipped at his coffee. "I thank the lord that I'm not expected to assist."

"Ezra," Josiah, "Nothing beats a day of good honest labor."

"Not in my present condition," Ezra grumbled.

"Well," Josiah said, "It would be a fine thing if you'd join me someday with my work around town."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "I try to avoid anything honest at all costs."

Josiah smiled. "Once you're feeling better, of course. I can show you the errors of your ways."

"Try to catch me," Ezra muttered into his mug.

The wail of a train whistle stopped their conversation, and the cat hunkered down in her chair.

A crowd of men were out the door in an instant. It took a little longer for the three to get to their feet. Ezra took a moment to scratch the cat behind its ears. She leaned her head into his hand and let him pet her for a moment.

"Ezra," Buck called. "We'd better check this out."

Ezra nodded and followed with a slow limp. They were just in time to see an engine arrive, towing a flat-car equipped with rails and beams and a crane. The inspectors had arrived.

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

It didn't take the inspectors long to determine that the burned hulk of the train cars could be moved, and the legions of men filling the town finally had something to do.

Next, the inspectors focused their work on the switch.

Ezra and the others watched them. Finally, Standish said, "You were saying that the engine might've been used to break into the bank?"

"It's possible. It's one of the few things that make sense," Buck said.

Ezra pointed. "Look," he said. "If someone had considered launching the engine at the bank, they would've had no earthly reason to expect it to work. Look at the angle where the spur leaves the main line at the switch. If I was a betting man, I never would have expected it to make contact with that building. It's surprising that it hit the Bonneville so squarely."

Buck moved into the position that Ezra had just occupied. He was right. With the cars removed, it was obvious that the contact made with the bank was pure happenstance. The locomotive might have ended up anywhere near the Bonneville, or the building next to it – but it shouldn't have run into the bank. This also seemed to prove that they weren't aiming for the hotel either. This wasn't a grudge against the Bonneville's owner, either.

"So they weren't after the bank," Buck concluded and turned toward the hospital. "It must be about Rand. Why would someone want to kill him like that?"

"He's rich," Ezra replied. "Sometimes that's enough."

"You said that Rand mentioned a name to you," Buck said. "Do you remember it?"

Ezra crinkled his brow in thought, but finally shook his head in exasperation. "Try as I might, I just can't recall it." He made an open handed gesture. "It's just gone from my head. I can remember general details, but the specifics are gone. I'm sorry."

"Just keep thinkin' on it. It'll come in time," Buck assured him.

"It's frustrating as hell," Ezra told him.

Josiah suggested, "Perhaps we should check on Rand to see that he's still safe, and get some more answers."

The tenor of the town had changed. With the arrival of the inspectors, it meant that all the meandering hoards had something to do. Clearing out the train cars was just their first task, next, they would be crowded around the Bonneville for their chance to help tear it down and take apart the poor battered Columbia.

The men crowded in, waiting, leaving the streets rather unoccupied.

Buck looked up at the New Hospital as they approached, wondering if the staff had freed up any beds. Ezra was doing better, but his slow pace and stilted movements told that he was still in bad shape. More rest would do him good.

Buck was looking up at the windows when something caught his eye – a movement at Rand's window – a shape.

Son of a…

He slammed himself bodily against Ezra, tearing him out of Josiah's grip and flinging Standish to the boardwalk as the shot rang out. Josiah spun about, pulling his weapon from its holster and aiming toward the shooter in the window.

Underneath him, Ezra gasped as Buck pulled his gun and fired at the shape with the rifle. Between them, Sanchez and Wilmington fired four shots in rapid succession and the shape disappeared.

Josiah gave the pair one fierce look, and then took off toward the hospital.

Ezra was sputtering, trying to catch his breath as Buck climbed off of him. "You okay?" Wilmington asked, quickly searching Standish for any sign of blood or perforation. "You hit?"

"YOU hit me!" Ezra wheezed.

"Come on," he grabbed Ezra's arm as he glared at the window, his gun ready. "We got to move. We're too exposed here."

Buck had pulled Ezra halfway to his feet when a shadow returned to the window. He let go his hold, and only his quick reflexes kept him from shooting Josiah.

"Rand is dead. The shooter is gone," Josiah shouted down. "Ezra?"

"I think he's fine," Buck said.

"Fine, but flattened!" Ezra's voice was high and offended. Having struggled partway to his feet, he dropped back down to the boardwalk.

Josiah called down. "You'd better come up."

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

Ezra was slow to move, and went a little white when he finally reached his feet. Buck had to hold onto him to keep him from slipping back to the ground. By then, the local law had arrived – all bent out of shape about the disturbance.

At least they accepted Buck's explanation, and they stormed into the hospital. He slowly followed with Ezra.

By the time they made it to Rand's room, the lawmen had Josiah to one side, questioning him.

Buck and Ezra's gaze went instantly to the bed. Poor Rudolph Rand, still trussed up with one leg in traction, had been shot in the chest. He'd never stood a chance.

Another man was being questioned in another part of the room – a lawman. "You called me to the station," he insisted.

"It wasn't me," the sheriff said. He was a new guy, who Buck didn't recognize. Apparently, Staines was gone.

"The message said to come now, that we didn't need to guard Rand any longer." He crossed his arms over his chest. "It wasn't my fault! I was just obeying your message."

"Where'd the shooter go?" Buck asked Josiah, as his raze raked the room.

Josiah nodded toward the door. "They were gone by the time I got here," he said.

"They?" Buck asked.

Josiah nodded. "Two men. One with a broken arm. The nurse recognized him as the man who was treated here yesterday."

Buck steered Ezra out of the room with Josiah right behind them. "There seems to be a lot of false messages going around this town," Ezra stated. "It's time we found out what this was all about."

They didn't make it far. One of the doctors finally spotted Ezra and ushered him down the stairs and into an examination rooms. Without his shirt, Ezra was a startling mottle of colors. His right side and back were mostly black, with purples and blues swirled in. His arms looked like someone had beat him with a board, and fresh marks were forming from his recent fall. Buck and Josiah exchanged commiserating looks.

Ezra allowed the doctor some prodding and poking, but when he'd had enough, he struggled off the table and grabbed for his shirt. He said, ""Unless you've found a way to cure bruises with anything other than time, we must be going."

The doctor looked annoyed, but handed Buck an bottle of something that might help with the pain, but he had little else to offer.

They left the hospital in search of Cook.

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

"Cook," Buck greeted. "We got some questions for you."

They found him near the wreck, his hand tightly held behind his back. He didn't take his eyes off the inspectors. "They said the rail isn't badly damaged. They should be able to pull their engine onto the spur and have the mainline cleared," he said. "Traffic will be flowing again soon. Trains have been rerouted all over the territory, but we need to get the backup moving."

"We wanted to ask you about the message you received," Josiah started. "The message that called you away from the station just before the Columbia arrived."

"My wife never called for me," Cook told them. "Didn't find that out until I got home late last night. She didn't send the note."

"Where did the note come from?" Buck asked. "I mean, how did it get handed off to you?"

Cook nodded toward the telegraph office. "Stevenson, the new wire operator. He also takes messages to be delivered around town when asked. It was in his writing, but he sent one of the boys to deliver it."

Josiah informed him, "We received two telegrams yesterday. One was the general call for help, but the second asked specifically for help from Four Corners. Did you send it?"

Cook shook his head. "It wasn't me, and I can't recall anyone sayin' they were sending for anyone in particular."

"Can you tell us anything about this telegraph man?" Buck asked.

Cook frowned. "Like I said, he's new. Only been here a few days. Still…" He glanced toward the busy telegraph office. "Those telegraph operators spend too much time bent over a desk. Listenin' to sounds on a wire. They know too much about everyone's business. You expect a certain amount of oddness out of those folks. Still there was something squirrelly about Stevenson."

Buck said, "It's time we had a talk with him."

With a gesture, Cook stopped him. "Don't bother," he said. "He's gone. Went charging out of town a little while ago."

"After the shooting at the hospital?" Buck asked.

Cook finally moved his gaze, and looked toward the hospital. "I heard they killed Mr. Rand? Damn shame. Now we'll never know why this happened. Stevenson left town just before the shooting, almost at the same time. Then those two fellows you were looking for were seen leaving after the shooting, one with a broken arm and a bruised face, like you said. Probably not as bad as yours, but…"

"Few can compare," Ezra added.

"That wasn't long ago," Josiah stated. "We could catch up with them."

Buck considered it and looked toward Ezra. He wasn't ready for a long ride. The easy ride out to the shacks was enough to do him in the night before.

"They got a lead on us," Buck said. "And I'm not sure if we'll be able to track them. There's been plenty of folks travelin' in and out of town."

Ezra licked his lips, and asked, "Was there any word from Cedar Ridge or anywhere along the line? Was the crew found?"

"No word," Cook responded. "Telegraph is still out in Cedar Ridge. It's the last station before you get here. We've been trying to coordinate the backup of trains, and they're not answering."

Cook seemed to notice something going on with the inspectors, so he offered a quick goodbye and hurried into the wreckage to see if he could offer any help.

"Now, at least we know who their inside man was," Buck stated. "Stevenson was sending messages to get people out of their proper places, and he could've turned the switch. Then there were those two men who fixed the controls on the train. At least we know that much, but what do we do now?"

"What the hell?!" the voice rang out as two horses thundered toward them through the street – a big black and a blazed devil. They had no time to do anything before Vin Tanner was off his horse and upon them.

He clamped his hands on Ezra's shoulders. "What the HELL do you think you're doing!?"

Chris dismounted beside them, giving Buck and Josiah a curt nod, but keeping his eyes on Standish. He seemed to be steaming like a kettle about to boil over.

"I… I was just… walking with my compatriots…" Ezra responded. "Doin' my best to avoid trouble and attack, and yet it seems that's all that's coming my way as of late."

Vin looked amazed. "How are you standin' here?"

"Well, you are holding me up," Ezra responded.

"Wilmington said he was dying," Chris explained, putting his gaze on Buck. His eyes were stark and pale as he stared down Wilmington. "Said Standish was in the train wreck and was tore up - inside and out. Was calling for me. We'd have to hurry if we wanted to say our goodbyes. You have something to say about that, Wilmington?"

Buck let out a breath. "Seems you're just the latest in a line of folks getting false messages."

"We had nothing to do with that message," Ezra stated. "As you can see, I'm fit as a fiddle." And he smiled through his swellings.

"Fit as a fiddle that's been sat on and flung off a cliff," Vin replied. "You ain't dying?"

"No, sir. Not yet."

Vin gave Ezra a little room, and then punched him in the arm. He grinned when Ezra flinched. "He's okay," he told Chris, his smile growing wider.

"Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?" Chris demanded. He glared across at the shattered Bonneville.

"I'd tell you if we could figure out it," Buck said with a shake of his head. "Right now, it's all as tangled as that wreck."

"So, what are we doing here? Ezra's not on death's door. They got enough folks here to move a mountain," Chris continued. "We've left Nathan looking after JD in town. Needed to call in some of the regulars to guard the jail."

"JD!" Buck exclaimed at the name. "How's he doin'?"

"Better," Vin replied. "Found out that he didn't eat ALL those sticky buns - just part of one. Thought it tasted funny, so he tossed the rest out. Wasn't just a tummy ache. Nathan figures those buns were drugged."

Another fly in the ointment, Buck thought.

"Drugged? Why would someone want to drug JD?" Buck pondered.

"Those buns were meant for all of us," Josiah reminded. "We got them delivered two days ago from a thankful citizen of Cedar Ridge."

Vin told them, "The drug was pretty powerful stuff, Nathan reckons. Might've been enough to kill a man if he'd eaten enough of it."

Thank God JD stopped eating, Buck thought, and wondered if he would have done the same. If he had first crack at a whole box of sticky buns, he might have eaten the whole lot of 'em just to spite his brothers. "Damn…"

"Curious times," Josiah stated.

"Yeah, curious," Vin said. "Like curious how Miss Lindsay suddenly thinks you're her beau."

Buck brightened. "Does she?" he exclaimed. "Best news I've heard all day!"

Vin glowered at him. "If I figured out what you did…" he started.

"Hey," Buck raised a hand. "It's a fair fight and she's a smart girl. She knows how to pick the best man."

Vin looked like he was ready go after Buck.

"Gentlemen," Ezra said impatiently, "We have more important issues at this moment. We need to find those men who left this town. They crashed the train and murdered Rand. And we need to know why!"

Buck looked toward the Columbia and the devastated Bonneville Hotel, then turned toward the hospital where Rand had been murdered, and then turned his gaze on Ezra who seemed to be thinking as well.

"They tried to poison us all," Buck said, "But they got only to JD. Ezra left the next morning for Cedar Ridge. Poked around there a bit and later that day, he's just about killed on a runaway train."

"It seems that the shooter was aiming for him at the hospital," Josiah put in. "And that fire trapped us both."

"The fire would've destroyed any evidence that Ezra might've brought along on that train car," Buck said.

Vin and Chris both looked surprised at these revelations, and suddenly everyone's eyes were on Ezra.

"They were trying to kill Ezra all along?" Chris asked.

Ezra looked at them in astonishment. "You can't believe this was because of me?" he said incredulously. "They couldn't have crashed that train just to kill me."

Buck said, "The Columbia would've killed you and Rand if he hadn't had that bomb-proof car."

Ezra stood a little taller, and pointed out, "If it was me they were after, then why shoot Rand?"

"You rode with him from Cedar Ridge, who knows what you might've told him," Buck said.

"About the Sahale trial?" Ezra asked. "Why should he care?"

Buck decided, "And, his room had a good vantage point. We'd been spending a lot of time standing by the street. They might've killed Rand just so they could use the room to get a clear shot of you."

"But I don't know anything!"

"How long were you going through the records in Cedar Ridge?" Josiah asked. "Not long? Ten minutes maybe?"

Ezra darted his glance toward Chris and then gave Josiah a betrayed look. "Maybe…" he replied.

Josiah nodded. "If someone had been watching you, and saw how quickly you emerged, then they would've thought you had exactly what you needed."

"That can't be the reason for the crash," Ezra said. "It can't be because of me!" His brow furrowed and brought a hand up to his head. Vin shifted as he took on more of his weight.

"Seems like the Sahales are a lot more serious than we thought," Vin stated.

Chris kept his gaze on Ezra. "We're heading home. If those Sahale boys want us all out of town or out of commission? They're not going to be happy."

"Did you come across anyone traveling in the opposite direction when you headed in?" Buck asked. "One was traveling alone. Then after him, two guys - one with a broken arm and nose?"

Vin nodded. "Probably saw the first guy. And I remember pair –the broken arm. They seemed suspicious of us," he said. "But, you usually get that when you're riding alongside Larabee."

"Those are the guys we're looking for," Buck told them. "The one with the arm is named Bill. The one traveling alone is Stevenson."

"We'll get 'em," Vin said.

"You coming?" Chris turned the question on the other three.

Ezra watched the inspectors climb around the Columbia. One man walked out on to the spur to where the rails met the switch and joined the main line.

"If they get the line opened," Ezra said. "There'll be a train heading to Cedar Ridge, and I'll be on it. If they were so dead-set on killin' me for visiting that town, I'd best get back and find what I missed."

TBC - They'll figure it out... eventually