Again- thank you all so much for the encouraging reviews.
Ezra knew he was being unreasonable. He couldn't help it. He couldn't help them. Not when he was so messed up inside. He slowly slid onto one of the benches along the walkway, leaning back against the building and set the bottle of whiskey on the bench next to him. He closed his eyes. His head throbbed and the ache in his leg pulsed along with it. The anger and unfeeling shield that had come with the initial intake of alcohol was fading. It was leaving him lost again in a maelstrom of emotion and fear.
Who was starting the fires? Was it the same mysterious person waiting out there to get to him? Or was it all his imagination? Was his fear paralyzing him?
He heard the heavy footsteps and tensed as someone sat down beside him.
"Nice morning," Josiah commented.
Ezra sighed and opened his eyes. "I suppose."
Josiah grinned. "You don't sound as angry as you were trying so hard to be a few moments ago," he pointed out, suddenly serious.
Ezra stiffened and started rise but Josiah simply reached out and grabbed his forearm. "Hear me out."
"Do I have a choice?" Ezra demanded harshly, glaring down at the hand on his arm.
"Of course." Josiah's hand loosened but he didn't let go. "Please."
Ezra deflated again. "Fine," he motioned with his free hand. "What wisdom do you have to share with me today?" he asked sarcastically.
Ignoring the snide tone, Josiah leaned back beside the Southerner, making himself comfortable.
"There was a time," he started, looking out at the street, his voice was low but strong. "My father took us onto a Cherokee reservation. I was pretty young then and my sister was just a toddler. The chief's wife took care of her and I tended to follow that woman around everywhere. All the children did. She'd set us down and tell us stories and share her wisdom."
The sound of Josiah's voice assured Ezra that his friend was smiling at the memory. Though he didn't want to hear whatever story Josiah was intent on sharing,the tone of the preacher's voice lulled him, relaxing him despite his agitation. No matter how much he tried to focus on his anger…he trusted Josiah.
"My favorite one, it was the parable of 'Two Wolves'. See an old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life…
'A fight is going on inside me,' he said to the boy. 'It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self doubt and ego.'" Josiah paused before continuing, letting his words settle between them.
"' The other is good- he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.
This same fight is going on inside you and inside of every other person, too,' the grandfather told the boy.
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, 'which wolf will win?'
The old Chief simply replied, 'The one you feed.'"
Josiah looked at Ezra then. "I know you're torn up inside. The memories of what happened to you feel like they're tearing you apart and taking over but Ezra…" the grip on Ezra's arm tightened. "You are not alone in this. No matter how much it feels that way. Please. Please remember that. Hang on to that. Don't feed the anger and the fear…fight it, Brother. Fight it."
Ezra stared after Sanchez, watching as Josiah rose and re-entered the saloon, the man's words echoing through his mind. Was it really that easy? Could he simply just- fight- the feelings and terror? How? It was so much easier to embrace the anger. To hold onto it, cling to it, and feel strengthened by it…but was it real? Did it help him?
Noise from inside the saloon drew his attention. Someone was yelling. Pushing back to his feet, Ezra moved as quickly as he was able to see what was going on inside.
"What are you going to to do about it?"
A man he didn't recognize was standing toe to toe with Chris, his face flushed with rage. "Someone's burning us out! They're threatening our families. You," he said, jabbing at Larabee's chest , "and your men are supposed to be protecting us!" He moved to jab Chris again,but Chris moved faster, grabbing the man's wrist and turning it just enough. The man howled and the place erupted.
"Don't you hurt him!" Someone yelled.
A bottle flew at Chris, clipping him before he had the time to duck out of the way. Buck and Vin sprang into action and from his viewpoint, Ezra watched.
JD and Josiah stood, ready to intervene. Inez ducked behind the bar.
Ezra tried to stay tight to the wall as the brawl exploded full force. Josiah caught one settler by the collar and flung him away from Nathan.
A bottle exploded against the wall beside Ezra, glass flying. He ducked, but shards caught him, cutting a slice into his cheek. A chair crashed somewhere nearby, he heard the wood splintering followed by Nathan's frantic, "Ezra, look out!"
Ezra turned, but not in time. The weapon hit him like club across his bad shoulder. His vision blurred as pain erupted, so sharp it drove him back and into the wall. He heard someone scream, "NO!" just before his shoulder was hit a second time. His world went black and silent.
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Chuck laughed as he rolled out of the saloon, ducking under the bat wing doors and hurrying down the street with a handful of other men. The crude club he'd made from the smashed chair still in his hand. He tossed it aside in case any of the other peacekeepers decided to come after him, but he was pretty sure they were distracted enough trying to calm the fight and take care of the injured.
It hadn't taken long to get old Joe Cirus stirred up. Between dropping a few muttered comments about how the peacekeepers weren't doing a very good job of watching over the new homesteads and the tension already filling the place, Joe was easy to set off.
Miller hadn't expected Cirus to go right for Larabee. The man certainly had some guts, but the result, for Chuck, was perfect. It'd let him get to Standish.
Oh how much he'd wanted to actually get up in the Southerner's face and let himself be recognized, but he knew…the time wasn't right for that. Not yet. Striking out physically would have to be enough for now.
He'd seen how the other six seemed to be circling their wagons protectively around Standish. He hadn't expected that. As much as he tried to make the gambler lose his mind…the other peacekeepers seemed to be standing by their friend regardless. It was time to up the ante a bit. He'd laid the groundwork earlier, once he'd seen Standish outside the saloon and now everything should work just right. He just needed to wait.
How much longer would the other men stand by Standish? How far gone did his mind have to be before they would desert him, too?
He didn't imagine Standish holding up too well at all now. Not between his injury and the surprise that awaited him. And, Chuck slowed to a walk, ducking down an alley and skirting behind the livery to where he'd left his horse, if none of that worked to break Standish, that'd be alright, too. It just meant it would be time to move on to the next phase of his plan. The final phase.
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Hands. Hands were on him. Pain.
Ezra came awake struggling, panicked by the memory of too many hands bringing only pain.
"Easy, Ezra, it's okay." He heard Jackson's voice but it didn't register at first.
"Ezra, stop moving, brother." Josiah.
Slowly awareness returned. He stilled, but flinched as strong fingers worked his shoulder.
"It's not out," Jackson said. "And not broken either, I don't think." Relief was audible in the healer's voice. "Ezra, can you move it?"
Forcing himself to open his eyes and try, Ezra tentatively tried to move his arm. The pain was excruciating, but he was able to move. He groaned in spite of himself.
"Careful," Nathan warned again. "It's bruised good."
"That's an understatement," Buck 's comment drew Ezra's attention and that's when he realized he was surrounded by everyone. The saloon was empty except for them. Inez watched, worriedly from the bar.
He was shirtless.
"What?"
"How in the world can you barely be in the same room as the fight and end up the most significantly injured is beyond me," Nathan fussed as he gently adjusted the angle of Ezra's arm. "Where's the sling I made for you?"
"I," Ezra looked around again. "Where's my coat…my shirt?"
Vin grinned. "Here." He held up the garments in question.
"That guy went right at him," JD told them. Ezra realized then that JD was standing beside Larabee, who was seated in a chair with a rag held to his own head. His eyes met Chris'.
"I'm fine," Chris assured.
Nathan nodded, responding to both Chris and JD. "Chris just got clipped. Has a goose egg, but JD's right, seemed like that guy targeted your bad shoulder."
Ezra flinched again as Jackson dabbed at the cut on his cheek.
"I don't understand," he managed.
"I don't either," Chris growled, obviously frustrated.
"Your sling?" Nathan prodded again.
Ezra looked from Chris to Nathan. "My room."
"I'll go." Buck started toward the stairs, but Standish spoke quickly, stopping him.
"I'd like to…"he waved his good arm indicating he'd like to get up off the filthy floor and go to his room himself. "It'll be easier for me to find," he explained at Nathan's questioning look.
"Fine, you need the rest anyways. Buck," Nathan called Wilmington back. "Help us get him on his feet."
"I'm perfectly capable…" Ezra protested but Josiah cut him off.
"Let us help."
"I don't want you jarring your shoulder more before I can get it better stabilized, "Jackson explained. "Just in case."
Ezra saw the concern in their eyes and acquiesced despite the weakness he felt. With his good hand, he reached out. Josiah slid into place beside him. Nathan held his injured arm still while Buck stood behind him.
Once he was on his feet, he swayed slightly.
"You good?" Vin asked.
"I believe so."
Nathan insisted on helping him up the stairs, hovering beside him in case he lost his balance, but thankfully Ezra remained upright for the climb.
"What happened?" he asked the healer as they reached the top of the steps.
"You don't remember?" Jackson's voice filled with renewed concern.
"I know I got hit but…by who?"
Nathan shook his head. "No idea. I didn't see his face just that he seemed to target you. It was like he knew you'd been hurt." Nathan squeezed Ezra's arm slightly. "We were too busy settling the fight and checking on you and Chris to chase after him. When you went down, I thought for sure…"
They were almost to Ezra's door when Standish suddenly stopped walking.
"What is it?" Nathan looked at his frozen friend. Terror was etched on Ezra's face, he began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Ezra?"
Standish didn't respond, he simply stared at the door to his room.
Nathan followed the frightened gaze and gasped in shock. There, hanging on the doorknob to Ezra's room hung a worn leather belt. Nathan immediately recognized it as looking exactly, if not being the same one that had been used to torture Ezra in Bainbridge. It was the weapon used to strangle his friend so badly it'd left a scar on the back of Ezra's neck where the buckle had cut into the skin.
"Chris!" Nathan shouted for Larabee and the others even as he felt Ezra's leg give out beside him. He caught his friend and held on.
"It's okay, Ezra. It's going to be okay," he repeated over and over even as he promised himself that this was not going to happen to Standish again. Whoever was targeting his friend was going to pay, even if Nathan had to find them and kill them himself.
TBC...