PART 5:

The train pulled into Ridge City, finding an unhappy crowd at the station. It was dreadfully late, after all.

Nathan stepped down into the midst of them and began making his way toward the livery to retrieve his horse. He stopped when something caught his eye, and he turned toward the man leaning against the roof support.

"Nathan," Chris said in an even voice. "You're late."

"Train got stopped," Nathan explained. "A freight almost derailed at a switch. Took them a while to get it righted."

Chris nodded.

With a frown, Nathan asked, "Why'd you come? I was just going to get Badger and head home."

With a tip of his head, Larabee said, "A package came in for me. Freight company sent a wire. Said it'd take a few days before they'd reached Four Corners. I could come to get it if I wanted." He smiled. "First, I thought, let it wait, but then I figured I'd might as well make sure you boys made it home. You two have a way of getting redirected."

Nathan nodded at that.

"Thought I told you to let me know before you tried anything. Seems you ignored me."

"Ezra…" Nathan said, not needing to add any more.

"I get no respect," Larabee muttered.

Nathan glanced to the train station's clock. "He's almost caught up to me by now."

Larabee nodded. "Figured I could corral both of you at once this way. Next train should be here in about an hour." He inclined his head. "You want to grab some dinner while we wait?"

"I could eat," Nathan told him.

Larabee pushed himself off the post and picked up a crate near his feet. Nathan's eyes fastened on it and then he reached out to touch the label. Chris gave him a curious look.

"Chris, have you opened it?" Nathan asked as his hand crept like a living thing along the top.

Larabee shrugged. "Figure I'd do that it when I got back. It'll get it home safer if it stays closed up. I got no idea what's in there."

"I do," Nathan said, his heart thumping with excitement. With a lurch, Nathan pulled the crate out of Chris' hands and found an even surface where he could set it down. He pulled a knife and pried up the top.

Larabee stepped closer. "That's mine, you know," he said. With an amused tone, he added, "Might be private."

Nathan kept at his work. The box was addressed to Chris Larabee in Four Corners. The handwriting was in block writing. The postmark showed that it came from Saint Louis. It had probably arrived on the train that Nathan was originally riding.

Nathan pulled away the top of the box to reveal a layer of crumpled papers. Immediately, he jerked away the stuffing to reveal a row of pawns. Eight familiar faces looked up at him.

He tears came to his eyes and a little laugh escaped him as he touched them all, one at a time.

He worked his way downward through the layers. They were all there - every last one! His parents, his sisters, Miz Lizzy, the Lincolns, Pastor Grady, Captain Giles, Doctor Klein with his horse Gert – and Vin and Josiah, JD and Buck, Ezra, Chris and two Nathans – one for each side.

He picked up the black king and queen, marveling at his ability to hold them once again – his regal parents. They looked so proud.

The knights, the rooks, the bishops, the pawns. One at a time, he removed each one, inspected it, touched it, felt its weight, and then returned it to the box.

He remembered each name, recalled their voices, the way each person laughed, how he could tell if they were teasing him or being serious. He remembered likes and dislikes, habits and gestures. He recalled what would make each person happiest – remembered how he treasured each friendship.

They were his once again, and as he held them, he knew he would never let them go.

When he finally looked up, he saw Chris looking at the horse-head cane, smiling.

"It's a work of art," Chris told him.

Finally, for the first time, Nathan nodded and said, "I know."

He must have taking longer than he thought as he examined the contents of the box, because by the time he had the last piece returned, they could hear the sound of the afternoon train coming from a distance – a little ahead of schedule.

"Figure you can start telling me about all this while we get the horses," Chris said.

.7.7.7

Ezra looked down at them as he made his way out of the train car, smiling widely. He opened his mouth to speak but, before he was entirely clear of the car, Larabee grabbed him by the lapel and jerked him the rest of the way.

"We're going," Larabee said gruffly as he let go, turning and leading the way.

Ezra stumbled clumsily to keep up. He tossed a furtive look to Nathan, saying, "I suppose you received the same treatment?"

Jackson shook his head, following. "Not so much," he responded.

The three horses were waiting for them at the railing. Chaucer tossed his head, whinnying and jerking at his reins the moment Ezra came around the last train car, and everything had to wait as the gambler greeted his mighty steed.

"Come on, Ezra," Larabee said, after allowing for a few moments. He climbed into Job's saddle. "Get moving."

"Why the rush?" Ezra asked, as he combed his fingers through his horse's mane, and Chaucer grabbed at his hat.

"We want the story," Larabee said. "The whole damn story. Figure you're going to keep quiet 'til we're free of town, so we're gonna get free of town."

"What about dinner?" Ezra asked hopefully.

Chris pointed to his saddlebags. "Picked up some stuffed pastries at a vendor." When Chris nodded to the ram-shackle stand that sold meat pies, Ezra looked dubious. Chris added, "You'll like them."

"I'm not promising," Ezra replied, and then added, "Nathan informed you of our adventures?"

"As much as he could," Chris said.

"I have no idea what you were doing at that museum," Nathan said seriously.

Ezra looked innocent and confused as he regarded Chris' expression. He asked Nathan, "Why's he so upset? We're all home, safe and sound," he replied, moving his head, trying to outmaneuver his excited horse.

"He's mad that you didn't wire him first," Nathan said. "About everything."

Ezra shrugged. "There was no time and it seemed ill-advised, considerin' the circumstances."

Chris grumbled.

Ezra's eyes widened suddenly. "You received the box!" he cried, noting the crate tied to the back of Badger's saddle

Nathan didn't know exactly what to say at that moment. He wanted to hug the man, and rattle him until his teeth shook. Ezra gave him a curious look and stepped back a little.

"You took an awful risk!" Nathan finally hissed at him.

"And succeeded!" Ezra responded, pointing to the box.

"We should've gone about it the legal way!" Nathan's voice had dropped to a whisper. "The right way!"

"When have I ever done anything the 'right' way?" Ezra asked. "And what does 'legal' mean to me? Besides, this was more efficient, and you were balking. I saw the opportunity and I took it." He gave Nathan a defiant look.

"You could've been arrested, shot, who knows what! You could've been hurt."

"I wasn't," Ezra responded, his voice low as he glanced about at the train station's crowd. "It was worth the risk."

Still fighting with the urge to shake him, Nathan extended a hand. Ezra looked at the hand for a moment, as if expecting a slap, and tentatively took it, letting Nathan give him a hearty handshake.

And then, unable to help himself, Nathan pulled Ezra into an embrace. He grabbed fistfuls of Ezra jacket as he drew him in, not letting Standish have a say in the matter. There was so much to say, but Nathan just tried to squeeze the stuffing out of the conman. It was almost as if he could hold all those long lost people once again. Ezra let him.

Finally, after only a few moments, Nathan pulled a hand loose and gave Ezra a couple of hard raps on the back, and released him.

Ezra stepped away, looking startled as hell, and then something seemed to shake loose and he gave Nathan a smile, a warm natural smile.

Nathan said, hardly able to speak, "You got my life back to me. I don't know how I can thank you."

Ezra shrugged, his smile not dropping. "It was for my love of adventure," he said. "I was growing a little bored in town, and you know that only causes trouble."

Nathan wanted to say more, but was cut off by Chris.

"Let's go," Chris insisted, turning his horse and starting on his way. "Ezra's got a tale to tell and I'm not waiting any longer for it." Job took off, making a beeline out of town.

Nathan watched Ezra's movements, frowning as he seemed to struggle a little to get onto his horse. Before Nathan could question him, Ezra said, "We'd best catch him or there'll be hell to pay," and kneed his horse to follow their leader.

Nathan fell in behind.

They were just barely clear of the town when Chris slowed, letting Ezra come alongside. Nathan swung around to surround him.

"Spill it," Chris said. "Tell us what the hell you were up to in that museum."

After a quick glance around, Ezra apparently decided it was safe to speak. "Well," he said. "Nathan told you that we'd located his chess set?" Ezra asked, and received nods in return. "It was a fine museum indeed. In fact, that night, there was to be a lecture - an explorer from the Amazon. You know how much I enjoy hearing stories of adventure. I love a good adventure."

Ezra smiled at the others as he continued. "I did a little shopping prior to my return to the institution," he said, gesturing to the dark suit that he was wearing, and then brushed at it discontentedly. "It requires tailoring of course, but one must make do. After the shopping excursion, I found a room at a hotel, and then left to attend the lecture. The speaker had spent weeks in the wild environs of Brazil, Colombia and Peru. Had seen snakes with a girth wider than your arm! The deadly constrictor was capable of squeezing the life right out of a grown man. They're known to drop from trees to enwrap their unsuspecting prey. A slow and horrible death. Amazing animals indeed. Did you know the area has rodents as big as dogs? Imagine such a beast scurrying behind your wainscoting. The most colorful birds imaginable and…"

"Ezra," Larabee cut in. "Keep on track."

"Why yes, of course, now where was I? Yes, there was a lecture at the museum. I attended. The speaker had fascinating material. Still, I grew weary of the discourse. The gentleman had this terrible habit of going off course, bein' distracted by the tiniest thing. Why, at one point he started talkin' about the fish of the Amazon, and the next moment he was discussing the fish market in Boston. It was annoying to say the least. At times I believe he was trying to avoid certain topics because…"

"Ezra," Larabee said again.

"Right! Well, the museum itself was closed. Only the lecture hall was open, with a velvet rope strung over the opening to the museum proper. The speaker was going on about the vicious nature of the Amazon's fish population, tellin' of how the terrible piranha is capable of skeletonizing a full-grown cow in a matter of moments. While the audience and security guards, was enraptured in his vivid details, I slipped over the rope to begin a private viewing on the museum. It was dark, but I knew my way well enough. It was when I was examining the Egyptian sarcophagus in the Spencer Room…"

"In the dark," Chris added.

"Well yes, but the object was inlayed, and I found that I could feel the details. You remember it, Nathan?"

Nathan shrugged, not wanting to speak just yet, hardly recalling the piece that stood in the Spencer gallery.

"Well, yes, I was feeling the details when a sudden weariness came over me. I thought, if a pharaoh could sleep in such a place, I might try it as well."

"It's not for sleeping," Chris stated. "It's for entombing the dead."

"Dead?" Ezra looked alarmed. "Well, it's best that I didn't know that at the time. I tucked myself inside, and leaned back, closing my eyes. I must have drifted. When I opened my eyes again, I discovered that hours had past, the lecture had ended and the audience all departed to their warm homes and families. The final rounds had been performed by the guards and the museum was silent."

They kept their horses moving, making their way to Four Corners. Ezra seemed pleased as punch in his storytelling. Nathan and Chris kept him hemmed in, as if concerned that he'd take off again.

"Fully awake now, I checked the doors, finding everything locked, bolted from the outside. I was trapped inside! Well, with nothing else to do, I lit a lamp and busied myself until the museum would open again in the morning."

"And by 'busying', you mean 'stealing'," Chris said.

Ezra harrumphed. "I stole nothing. I simply packed up Mr. Jackson belongings and addressed them so that they could be returned. I had to open the offices of the museum to find the shipping department. There was a small stack of boxes meant to go out with the morning mail. I included one more. Oh, and I opened a window because it was a little stuffy."

"So that they'd think that's how the thief got in," Chris added.

"It's possible," Ezra commented.

Chris continued with his prodding. "The police found a box with some valuable things."

"Wishful shopping," Ezra said. "I picked up a little of this, a little of that. Then just left it at the doorway when I realized it would be difficult to sell." He glanced at the others and said, "By that time I was tired again. It was nearly morning, after all. I decided I would have to break out if I were to have any sleep before our train ride. Not wanting to alarm the local law, I'd been checking the activity of the officer in the street. I timed when he passed the front of the museum – then I waited until he was gone and I shouldered the door open."

"What about the open window?" Chris asked. "You could have gotten out there."

Ezra shrugged. "I needed someone to take the fall." He went on, "The breaking of the latch made some noise, and I couldn't be sure how far the officer had gone. I certainly didn't want to be incarcerated for simply freeing stolen merchandise." Ezra looked toward Nathan saying, "We should do our best to track down McAvoy."

"He's in custody already," Nathan said, finally speaking. "The Kansas City law is going after Woodman Pawn next."

"Well done, Mr. Jackson!" Ezra cried. "Then all is as it should be. You have your chess set," he gestured to the box, "The wrong-do'ers have been apprehended." And pressing a hand to his chest, he said, "And those who should be blameless are free."

"What about Spencer?" Chris stated. "What's he going to say when he catches wind of this?"

"Spencer is going to remember us visiting, and that we asked about the set," Nathan said. "Someone's going to tell him about the theft of his donation. He'll remember our names. He committed them to memory." Nathan pointed at his head as Spencer had.

"How could I forget?" With a sigh, Ezra explained, "I sent a letter with the rest of the outgoing mail." He lifted his gaze to meet Chris's glance. "I explained to Mr. George Spencer that he had been in possession of stolen merchandise, provided by his son. His son most likely knew something of the history of the set from the start. I'm betting he's acquired a few other similar items from Woodman's. In any case, the younger Spencer was well aware of the set's true owner after we spoke to him. He still refused to give up any information. I let the older Spencer know that his son might be called up on charges if pressed." He shrugged and added, "I have no idea if that is legally admissible, but the threat should work."

He continued guiding his horse forward, smiling to himself. "We were, after all, just investigating a crime as lawmen from Four Corners."

"You put all that in writing?" Chris asked. "Seems risky."

Ezra scoffed. "Please, Mr. Larabee. My comments were veiled, couched in phrases that couldn't be held against me in a court of law." He rolled his eyes as if this was nothing new, then he looked to Nathan and said, "I suggested to him that you might be persuaded to carve something new for his gallery. I understand the need for such a display at the museum, but no one deserves to hold your life except for yourself."

Nathan was silent. There was a time when his life was not his own. People he loved, family and friends, had been torn from him and he'd had no say in the matter. It had hurt him every time he'd suffered a loss like that. He'd been powerless, ineffective in those goodbyes. They'd torn him apart. It couldn't help but change a man.

Getting the chess set back helped salve that hurt a little bit.

Reaching into his rifle scabbard, Nathan pulled the cane free and held it out to Ezra.

Standish smiled. "Ah, I see!" he exclaimed. "You've already started on a replacement. Finished it?" Ezra grasped the cane with a grin. "Let us hope that the museum…"

Chaucer came to a stop and Nathan brought Badger up beside him. Chris's horse outpaced them by a few lengths and finally stopped. Larabee turned in his saddle.

Transfixed, Ezra stared at the horse head for one long moment, a fond smile growing. It dipped after a moment. "For the museum?" he asked, his voice cool.

"No, Ezra. It's for you," Nathan told him.

Ezra didn't speak. He just twisted the cane this way and that, looking at the carving from every angle. He smiled like a child on Christmas morning.

Since Ezra said nothing, Nathan spoke. "Looks like you could use a cane. You were limping when you got off the train. Other foot this time. I figure you weren't still trying to keep up that ruse."

Ezra's gaze didn't stray from the cane as he held it close for careful examination. Finally, he licked his lips and said in a disinterested voice, "I had to keep it up at the police station as I wasn't sure if our earlier visit at the museum had been communicated to the local law. The problem with faking a limp, is that it inevitably causes one to take a misstep. I ended up with a twisted ankle."

"I'll want to look at that when we get home."

Ezra nodded, but Nathan wasn't really sure if he'd heard. Ezra's attention stayed on the cane as he ran a careful finger over the carving, caressing the head.

Finally, his examination complete, Ezra held out the cane as if to let Chaucer see it as well. Another horse might have flinched to have a stick pointed so close to its eyes, but Chaucer just looked bored and ready to be underway again.

"Look," Ezra said. "It's you."

Chaucer blinked.

Ezra turned to the healer, his eyes misty, and said, "Thank you, Nathan. It's beautiful. You've captured Chaucer perfectly. I've never received anything like this before." He reached across to grasp Nathan's arm, holding onto it firmly. He smiled. "Thank you," he said again. "Thank you, my friend."

Ahead of them, Chris was facing forward again, looking out across the distance toward Four Corners as his horse swished his tail.

"Ezra, I wanted to thank you for everything that you did for me," Nathan told him. "You never stopped trying to help me, even after I told you to stop. You're a good friend. I wanted to let you know how much I appreciated your help."

And both men were silent for a moment.

Ahead of them, Chris finally spoke. "We need to get moving," he stated. "We got work to get done back home."

"Ah yes," Ezra said, finally relaxing his grip on Nathan. "Back home. It's time we went."

And so, they continued forward.

.7.7

Nathan sat on his balcony, relaxing in the afternoon sun as he carved. A little pile of curled shavings lay at his feet. The knife tip gouged in, carefully twisting into a tiny detail. He blew on the spot when he was done.

He'd spent a few fretful weeks since their return, worried about what might happen if word got out that he was in possession of the chess set once again. But, he realized he'd tell the truth if pressed – someone had shipped it through the mail – the thief no doubt, setting things right.

Everything was now as it should be.

He paused in his work when he heard the distinctive sound of Ezra's walk as the gambler climbed the stairway to the clinic.

Standish had become a menace with the cane since its presentation. He'd needed it at first, to rest a sore ankle, but since then he'd been using it as a walking stick, a pointer, a hook to retrieve things and a poker to gain attention.

The residents of Four Corners had become used to seeing him, wielding it with a flourish as he clipped down the boardwalks, twirling it as he waited for anything, tapping it when he'd waited too long, balancing it on his open palm or foot just to show off and just being generally obnoxious.

It was the price they all paid for keeping the con artist amongst them.

"Nathan!" Ezra said cheerfully as he spotted the healer. "How good to find you here."

"I'm usually here this time of day," Nathan pointed out as he added the last detail to the ear he was carving.

Ezra smiled, taking the chair next to him. He folded his hands over the horse head and rested his chin on top. "You're working on the replacement for the chess set for the museum's display!" he exclaimed. "And well along, I see."

Nathan nodded, looking at the finished piece that rested on the table. He was still working on the second piece. The body had been roughed out and the head was nearly complete.

"It's your father," Ezra said, recognizing the first piece instantly.

"Yeah, it is," Nathan said as he set down the figure with his mother's features. He picked up his father and handed it to Ezra.

Standish smiled as he shifted the cane to the crook of his arm and took the offered piece. "It's delightful," he declared. "Beautifully made."

It was his father as he'd been in Nathan's childhood. The figure wore simple, worn clothing. He carried a shovel in his calloused-looking hand. He seemed tired, standing with a slight hunch to his shoulders, his clothing looked dirty and patched, his face looked prematurely old.

His mother wore her thick hair tied back. Her eyes were downward, her brow creased with worry. She would be looking toward her children when they were completed. She'd be wearing an apron and carrying a basket of laundry. Her clothing would be simple and well-used.

They were so different from the regal versions of the chess set. The king and queen wore furs and adorned with jewels. These figures would be careworn.

"Will it hurt to give them up?" Ezra asked quietly as he continued to study the piece.

Nathan shook his head. "I'm making these for others, to show them what our life really looked like so that folks could remember, so that they'd never forget."

"You could make a good living," Ezra said as he examined the piece. "There are plenty who'd pay top dollar for your work."

Nathan shrugged. "I can't do it that way, Ezra. I figured it out on the train ride home. I have to care about each piece. I have to…" he paused and frowned, not knowing how to put it into words. "It won't come alive unless I put some of myself into it. That's not going to happen if I'm making it for sale. I have to care about where it ends up."

Ezra's gaze flicked up to meet his for a moment, before returning his attention to the carving. "Pity," he said, turning the piece slowly in his hands, while the walking stick rested against his arm. "Astounding work."

Nathan nodded to the piece, saying, "I was thinking about showing the worst of it, but this is better. They're just going about their work. I'll make my sisters next. I'm hoping I can get it done quickly so I can get the pieces on display soon as possible."

Ezra nodded. "Anyone would see them as people in hard times – hard times that were forced upon them." He looked up at Nathan, "These will make a bigger impact than the chess set." As he turned the image of Obadiah Jackson, Ezra said, "I truly appreciate the way you carved his eyes."

"Beaten down?" Nathan asked, not sure what was finally portrayed there.

"No," Ezra said. "Hopeful. He looks as if he's staring into the distance, anticipating the future and what will come."

Nathan smiled at that.

As Ezra settled the carving, he asked, "Will you include yourself as well?"

"Yeah," Nathan said. "'Cause I need to be with them, to be there, too. This was my life." He'd carve himself as a child – full of the same hope he'd reflected in his father's eyes, tempered with a fierceness and a desire for something better, a determination to make it so.

He settled the unfinished figure of his mother beside his father and asked, "Did you need something?"

Ezra shook his head, "No need for anything today. All is quiet and calm." He picked up the cane from where it rested, and gave it a tap. "I was just wonderin' if you'd be up to a game of chess this afternoon, but I see you're busy."

With a chuckle, Nathan stood and gestured to the doorway. "I got it all set up and ready to go. I'd love a game."

Ezra grin widely as he stood, and as Nathan led the way, he followed, his walking stick ticking away beside him.

Nathan opened the door and smiled, as he always did when he looked at his chess set on the marble board that Ezra had acquired for him. Could it be stolen again? Perhaps, but he'd keep better track of it. It wasn't going to be packed away in a crate where it might be forgotten. No, from now on, it would be out – always – ready for a game – ready for questions – on view.

It seemed to glow in the warm afternoon light as it waited for another game.

THE END

Thank you so much for all of your amazing reviews