ON YOUR HORSES, BOYS
Part 4
Mrs. Nichols stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel and walked to where her son stood in the shade. She had waited such a long time to see justice done and now that it was within her grasp she was nearly giddy with the relief. She wiped her brow with her kerchief and eyed the man who hung in the hot afternoon sun.
"He's got grit, I'll give 'im that," said Peter, motioning towards Ezra. "I think he's been awake the whole time we've had him."
"Has he now." The Nichols matriarch stepped casually around the Southerner and grabbed a handful of his chestnut hair. "The good Lord must be exacting a special penance from this one then."
"He's a gambler."
"A gambler is it? Well then, its little wonder the Lord would want him to pay for his sins." She raised his head and tried to peer into half-lidded green eyes. "You should never have involved yourself in our affair, gambler. Now it seems you will be paying for your error in judgment with your life."
Ezra's mouth moved but only unintelligible sounds came out.
"What it is you have to say?" she moved an ear closer to him.
"C-Chris…"
"Chris Larabee? Do you believe he'll save you? From what I gather, he'd rather protect that murderer Hank Connelly than see you freed. He'll not be coming for you," she said, taunting him, not really believing the words she spoke. From the way the gunfighter had reacted to seeing his friend, there was little doubt in her mind he'd do almost anything to rescue him.
Ezra tried to shake his head in denial but the movement only made him dizzier.
"You're as daft as you are stubborn," she said as she dropped his head without warning. "For the life of me, I'll not understand why you'd suffer so for a man such as himself. But don't be worrying that your sacrifice will be without reward. Justice shall be served and Larabee will be taken down alongside my son's killer."
The words the old lady spewed spread through his mind like venom. Had Chris given up on him? Had he decided it better to protect Hank than to even try to save him? He shuddered at the thought he'd be left on display to die for the entertainment of the town folk. But he was a conman; a conman who let Chris down, and he supposed his future didn't look all that promising. Why wouldn't Chris save the life of his dead wife's father, no matter how estranged they were? He knew there was really no choice involved, and the reality of his predicament was becoming clearer every passing moment.
His mind continued to drift along the white-hot pain he felt throughout his body. He would probably die here. He tried to draw in a complete breath but the effort felt much like knives were lancing his entire upper body. Yes, he would die.
Finally Ezra tried to raise himself enough to shift his hips so he could roll the tops of his feet into a more comfortable position. The move proved to be one of the most painful he'd ever made… it also proved to be one of the most fortunate. With one last sharp breath, his body seized and his mind fell into the blessed darkness he'd longed for.
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"Do you think this'll work?" JD asked as he shouldered his way into the coat Buck had just taken off Hank.
"I don't know kid, but when you hear Chris offer to make a trade for Ezra you get ready to move. Vin's already gone to take out the goon watching the back of the saloon, so you should be able to get to Hank's horse without any trouble. You ride out to the end of town, let them get a quick look at ya and then make out like you're Hank tryin' to get away. Then you circle around and high tail it back here." Buck answered. He settled Hank's hat on JD's head and looked him straight in the eyes. "You sure you wanna do this? Vin or I could..."
"I can do this, Buck, quit worrying. I'm just goin' for a little afternoon ride, nothin' to it." JD grinned convincingly.
"I know you can ride that horse of yours pretty well, but this ain't your animal. Keep that in mind."
"I'll handle 'im."
"Make sure he doesn't handle you, ya got it?"
JD nodded, a serious look replacing the grin. "I won't mess this up. We gotta save Ezra."
Buck patted his approval on the young man's arm. Then he looked at Hank as the old man sat at a table in the far corner of the room, staring contentedly at the knotted handkerchief in his hands.
"Buck," Nathan called from the window overlooking the street. "We best be gettin' on with this plan of yours."
Wilmington moved alongside Jackson and looked out at Ezra. "What's happening?"
"The old lady was out there messin' with him, talking to him I think, and suddenly he stopped movin'. He was at least jerking and shakin' before, but he ain't moved at all in the last minute or two. If he keeps hangin' on that shoulder like he is, he'll do permanent damage. Not to mention he won't be able to breathe."
Buck stared at the gambler and understood what Nathan was saying; there was an eerie stillness to their friend's body. They had to move now. He turned quickly to Chris. "You're gonna be the most vulnerable, walking out there like you've got good sense."
The gunfighter shot Buck a hard look that clearly stated he was doing exactly that. "Ezra's in this because of me. I ain't lettin' him die like that."
Vin entered the room from the back of the saloon. "We were right; they only had one lookout in back. He won't be botherin' us again. It should be safe for JD to make his ride."
"Good. Chris you're gonna distract them with talk of tradin' Hank. When JD comes in sight at the end of the street, get your head down and wait for him to draw them out. Josiah, you and Nathan lay down cover for Chris and Ezra in case the Nichols try to take 'em out before they go after JD. Hopefully, he'll be too big a temptation to pass up and you'll be able to pick a couple of 'em off."
Vin stepped forward. "The lookout for the back of the saloon was also watchin' that coach of theirs. I went ahead and harnessed the horses. I'll hide myself between them and guide that thing close enough to Ezra to grab him. We can go now if you're ready, Buck."
"I reckon I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Chris remember, don't go playin' hero. Let me and Vin get to you with that wagon of theirs before you try to cut Ezra down. Once we're inside that thing we can go after the Nichols gang with everything we've got."
Larabee nodded and walked to where Connelly sat. He touched him on the shoulder and squatted down in front of him. "Hank, things are going to get pretty lively around here in a minute. I want you to stay here in the saloon."
Soft blue eyes looked up from the cloth in his hand.
"Do you understand, Hank? I want you to stay here."
Hank smiled. "No problems, Chris Larabee. No problems at all." Then he returned to his busywork.
Chris shook his head before he looked back at his men. "Let's do it."
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The peaceful blackness that had swallowed him only moments before deserted him. What had been a cool emptiness, void of hurt, slowly mutated around him into a place of searing heat and agonizing pain. Something had snatched him away from his retreat with great urgency and brutality. When he felt the fingers of his tormentor's lash reach again for the tender skin of his lower belly, he knew how and who. When he heard the raging words beside him, he knew why.
"Wake up, gambler, who said you could sleep? We need you awake." Peter Nichols snarled as he wiped the tendrils of the bloody whip with a large napkin he'd taken from the hotel dining room.
"N-not… s-sleep," Ezra said with a slur.
"Ah, I see you've recovered enough to speak. Good, you need to be awake when your friend Larabee realizes he has no choice but to trade Connelly for you."
The Southerner tried desperately to lift his chin from his chest, but only managed long enough to mutter, "W-won't trade… for me."
"You better pray he does."
"Can't…"
When Peter saw the bound man was again flagging, he used the handle of his whip to prod him awake. He poked him on the torn skin of his stomach and spoke menacingly near his ear. "I told you to wake up!"
Ezra hissed at the pain and drew upon every ounce of strength he possessed to force his head up to rest on one of his outstretched arms. "Won't… betray fam…"
"Well, looks to me like you're wrong, gamblin' man," Nichols said with a dangerous edge to his voice, "because here he comes now."
Ezra opened the eye that wasn't swollen shut and sought the colorful serape he'd seen Chris put on earlier in the day; had it been today… no, yesterday? He'd hurt so long now he couldn't remember. His blurry vision refused to clear, but still he tried to keep his eyelid raised.
Peter moved down onto the street in front of the hotel steps. "It won't be long now and it'll all be over… for Hank Connelly anyway. You and Larabee, well that's a whole other thing. Ma always punishes those who interfere in family business."
Some part of Ezra's brain registered the threat offered by his captor. No matter what Chris did, the Nichols were planning to kill Hank, Chris and himself. And who knew if they would extend their wrath to the remaining lawmen or even the people of Four Corners. It was all a trap and there appeared little he could do about it.
TBC
A/N: To Acacia Jules—this isn't the sequel to DON'T KNOW FROM ADAM, but I promise I am working on that story as well. And girl, you know way too much about the ramifications of torture! Thanks for keeping me honest!