RATING: G
CATEGORY: Challenge - OW - Annie Greer Saga
MAJOR CHARACTERS: Little Ezra and an OFC, Annie Greer
DISCLAIMERS: This is fanfiction. No profit involved. This story is based on the television series "The Magnificent Seven". No infringement upon the copyrights held by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that production is intended.
NOTE: Vegas 2003 Magnificent 7 Challenge, given by NotTasha: Write a story that involves one or more of the following: Las Vegas, showgirls (dance hall girls), gambling, a casino and/or Elvis Presley. Include the following words: Exciting, Midnight, Bright, Jackpot and Illegal
SUMMARY: Another slice of Ezra's past

AWARDS: Winner of the 2003 Diamond Ezzie Award for Best Other AU Fic-General-Short; 2006 Mistresses Of Malarkey "Best Gen Series" Award and 'Perfect' Award
DATE: Originally posted April 14, 2003

The Annie Greer Saga – Part 2

A Gambling Boy
By NotTasha

Annie Greer awoke and listened to the dark room. Over the past four weeks, she'd become accustomed to a fact - her house was no longer empty. For a full month, there had been another soul beneath her roof.

The hapless child, Ezra Severt, lived with her. His mother had deposited him at her doorstep as her new son. Not quite an orphan, the nine-year-old had lived since then as a houseguest, a ward, a foster child. They'd told a story to any who would listen, stating that Ezra was a relation of her departed husband - Ezra claimed there were Greers in his family tree, so it was possible. They'd said that the boy was simply paying a visit for an undisclosed period of time. Nobody seemed too concerned.

So he lived with her and she watched out for him.

He was a strange, changeling child. He could be good-natured and boisterous, talking to her about just about anything, interested in everything she had to show him. He had a quick intelligence and a sparking sense of humor. His sarcastic tongue managed to sound closer to 'precocious' than 'obnoxious', and he made her laugh at his ability to reach the truth in matters.

But, in an unguarded moment, Annie would catch him with a somber expression. He would smile when he felt her gaze upon him, but so sadly, it almost broke her heart. If questioned, he was tight-lipped and quick to redirect the conversation.

He was an able learner. When she found that he enjoyed watching her play the piano, she started teaching. Soon, he was picking out simple melodies on her pianoforte. But, it wasn't until she convinced him that he didn't have to be perfect that he really started to improve. Where he'd originally had a mechanical quality, the music started to flow and he smiled as the melodies became looser and less structured. It was exciting to see him learn.

He certainly had a mouth on him and wasn't afraid of expressing his opinion. Annie soon learned that his barbed retorts were never aimed at her. He didn't lie outright, though he had an ability to twist the truth to an alarming degree. He had a slyness to him, and a tendency to disappear at times - but she'd learned where to find him. He was always quick to help her with any task.

Her life was changing in strange little ways. She'd been doing her shopping at Campbell's Grocery for years. After all, Mr. Campbell had come to her door after Mr. Greer's fatal accident. He'd been the one to offer comfort and a special delivery service to fulfill her shopping needs. Ezra investigated and concluded that Campbell was cheating her - shamelessly. "It's deplorable that the man would overcharge a widow, simply because he figures that no one would notice," Ezra had declared upon returning with his findings.

They now shopped with Mrs. Chan, who offered a remarkable variety of wares. Annie, of course, had objected at first, stating that Mrs. Chan was Chinese and there was no telling what sort of foreign nonsense was contained in her products. Ezra had pointed out that Emma Chan was born in Pittsburgh and was as American as either of them, plus she offered significantly better prices and fresher produce. Therefore, they shopped now in an Asian market and sometimes ate that strange foreign nonsense. And wonder of wonders - she enjoyed it.

He took daily jaunts and returned with remarkable tales - making the simplest events into "can't be missed" excitement. She'd started going on walks with the boy… or promenades, as he called them, to see what he had seen. Ezra certainly was an insistent youth and she couldn't deny him when he asked for her company.

She was surprised that it was so easy - so simple to step from her gate and tread upon those old familiar paths. The street was still lined with cherry trees and warm homes. The little town still stood – as it always had: groceries, dry goods, the butcher, a millinery, a haberdashery, the barbershop, the candy store, the drug store, the train station, the emporium, offices, businesses, hotels and taverns - and on and on. Nothing had really changed.

What had she expected? What had held her in her yard for so long? Once she had stepped clear of her property, she couldn't quite say. Perhaps she was just being foolish?

On that first walk, she had clutched his hand so tightly that the boy needed to remind her his hands were fragile and easily crushed. Her grip became more relaxed in time, but her heart had fluttered the first time they'd approached the place where her Harry had so fatally stepped. Ezra had easily guided her down a different lane and that disaster was averted.

She learned to live again – as she once had – before her world came crashing to a halt. She couldn't just huddle in her house any longer, not when she had Ezra with her.

Once, Annie sent Ezra to the store for black cloth so that she could make a new dress. She'd come to realize that her widow's dresses were ragged and worn - it had been five years after all. If she were to walk the streets, she'd best look presentable. He came back with dark cloth that proved to be deep blue. After claiming that the light in the store had been poor, Ezra produced the proper thread to match the cloth and stated that she'd might as well use it - for blue was nearly black and no one would notice.

But blue wasn't black. It wasn't even purple or gray which might be appropriate for mourning. Blue felt 'different' beneath her finger. It gleamed when the light hit it just right. It made her skin glow when she wore it. Her drab-colored hair seemed lighter. She remembered standing in front of the mirror, turning back and forth as her new skirts rustled, and looking in astonishment at this woman. Mrs. Greer had forgotten that this 'Annie' existed.

She'd fidgeted and figured and fought with herself as she decided whether or not to wear the new dress in public. Then finally, she threw caution to the wind and stepped out in something other than black. The world didn't stop spinning. No one turned an accusing finger at her. No one demanded that she think about her dear departed Harry.

Annie renewed old friendships as Ezra walked her past the homes of people she'd once known. The people still breathed - still went on with their lives. Everyone was happy to see her, so full of compliments. Oh, they loved her new dress, thought her hair was lovely, and told her how healthy and vibrant she looked. "It's so good to see you, Annie," they had said. "So very good."

She started seeing more people, eventually venturing out alone to do so. She learned that Emma Chan, a widow as well, was a remarkable, intelligent and enjoyable woman. Mrs. Greer started to spend evenings in her company. She enjoyed exotic tea and home-baked cookies in Emma's quaint little rooms above her store. They talked about a manner of living that they both understood. Mrs. Chan's grown daughter would join them, and they chatted away like old friends.

Ezra started to follow a lawman around, an Officer Costello. He'd ask questions, watching him work, shadowing him. Annie had to retrieve the boy from the police station – and talk to Aaron Costello. The young southerner seemed infatuated with Costello's profession, asking him all manner of questions regarding the law. The officer was happy to oblige him and probably encouraged his behavior. Later, the man would confide to Annie that he felt Ezra was pumping him for details, interested in learning wasy to skirt the law instead of enforcing it.

She'd blush shamelessly after she'd retrieved the boy and giggle like a schoolgirl when she was alone in her room. Officer Costello had beautiful dark eyes and such full lips.

Then, just a week ago, without even realizing it, Ezra and Annie had walked right past that place where Harry had fallen. They'd been so immersed in their conversation that Annie didn't even know what had happened until they were just passed the spot.

She'd come to a standstill, to look at that section of walkway. Her eyes were wide and searching, thinking that this place – this place - must somehow look different from all other positions on earth. She expected shattered floorboards, broken railings, blood! Even after five years passing, she expected some sign to remain. But the walkway looked just the same as every other length along the way. Ezra came beside her and held her hand as she stared.

Here she was, a widow in blue, who blushed when a policeman looked at her, who didn't cry when she passed the place where her husband had lost his life. Perhaps she should have hated herself for forgetting, but Ezra started talking and was so insistent on something, that she had to follow his chain of conversation. They'd made it all the way home before she thought of the situation again.

Life didn't stop.

She'd thought that she'd be caught in the same cold place for the rest of her days. It had become familiar to her. She believed it was her lot in life. Everything had changed since young Ezra came to her. He gave her a reason to wake up in the morning - to return to the world.

Ezra, the dear boy. Annie considered the child and sat up in her bed. She continued to listen to the quiet house. A sudden urge caught her, to get up and look in on the boy. She laughed at the whim, but resolved to follow though. She lit the hurricane lamp beside her bed. After putting on her glasses and wrapping herself in a shawl, she tiptoed into the hallway and to the boy's room.

Slowly, she pushed open the door of her former 'guest room' and let the light fill the area. Seconds passes as her eyes opened wide. She blinked and didn't breathe, then adjusted her glasses, hoping she must be half-asleep and not seeing things correctly. The bed was empty and the window open. Curtains fluttered in the breeze as she held her breath.

Lord, no! Oh Lord! He's gone!

Frantically, she searched through the room – under the bed, in the wardrobe – no boy!

Darting through her house, she searched the upper story first, then down to the main level. She checked the little library and every room, every nook and cranny. She glanced through the back window to see if any light shone from the privy. All was dark.

As she moved through the parlor, she checked the mantle clock - it was nearly midnight. So late? Where had he gone? He wasn't in the house. What had happened to him?

Kidnapped! Someone might have climbed to that upper story and glanced in on the sweet-faced boy, snatching him away. Lord! Why hadn't she awakened? Why hadn't she heard? What sort of guardian was she?

Upstairs again, she returned to her room and quickly dressed. She hardly bothered to tighten her corset before she pulled on her dress. Hurriedly, she buttoned up her shoes, fixed her hair and settled a hat upon her head.

Had he run away? Please, no. She'd done everything she could to make him happy. He had truly seemed to enjoy her company. But what about those sad glances she'd seen? She really wasn't an ideal guardian, was she? No, too shy and silly. Had he been so miserable that he couldn't stand another night under her roof?

She ran down the stairs and grabbed the lantern near the door. As she lit it and glanced out the entrance, she remembered the first day she'd seen the boy – standing by Maude Severt at the front door.

Maude – had she come back for him? Ezra had often promised her that his mother would send for him – get him out of her way. "She'll be back," he'd told her more than once. "Or she'll tell me where to meet her. She always does. Nobody gets stuck with me for long." The consoling words only caused her grief. No matter how many times she's assured him that she wasn't 'stuck' with him, he'd only nod and smile in response.

She stepped out onto the front porch and looked about in the darkness. "Ezra!" she called softly. The privy was quiet – empty. Maybe he was just looking at the stars. He could be on the roof, just outside of his dormer window. She'd caught him up there before and made him promise to get down and never go there again. Lifting the lamp, she hoped the light would carry. "Ezra?" she called again, louder, not caring about the neighbors. She could see nothing.

Carefully, she circled the house twice, swinging the lantern to find her way. She found no trace of him.

With a quivering lip, she approached the fence. It was one thing to walk down the street during daylight hours. It was another thing altogether to go out alone after dark! Her hand quaked as she laid it on the gate, and she recalled the time she'd been unable to rush after Mrs. Severt. Annie Greer wasn't going to be afraid anymore, she reminded herself. She was stronger than that. She'd do this - for Ezra. He might be hurt, lost, frightened, calling for her. He needed her.

With a firm shove, she pushed the gate open and stepped onto the dark sidewalk. The night was quiet, and the street was wet with May rain. Down the street, she saw light from the town. There, she would find help. One of the officers must be on duty. They would help find him.

Had a train gone through tonight? She couldn't remember and paid no attention to the timetables. What if he'd gone with a passing train?

With a resolute step, she hurried along the walk, passing the houses of friends she'd only recently rediscovered. In the town, she paused at the jailhouse, hoping that Mr. Costello was there – telling Ezra tall tales, reading him letters from his adventurous brother, making Ezra laugh - but the Police Station was dark and empty.

She passed Mrs. Chan's grocery and contemplated climbing the stairs to ask Emma for help – but Emma was a widow, too, and undoubtedly asleep. Annie would wake the whole town, if she had to. But she'd rather start with those that she knew were awake.

As she drew close to the only lit business, she noted that it was "The Meadows Tavern and Casino". Her steps became slower as she approached that den of sin. It was a drinking palace, a gambling establishment and - God forgive her for even thinking it - a brothel.

The raucous sound of an out-of-tune piano greeted her ears, along with the shouting and coarse calls of men at play. She could do this, she told herself. If the local law wasn't at the police station, that the man on duty might be here. She'd find him. Call him. It didn't matter that she'd be embarrassed – that she'd blush and look foolish. This wasn't a time to worry about herself. She needed help to find the boy.

Slowly, she moved into the doorway and gazed through the opening. Inside it was bright, loud and full of commotion. How could so many people be active at this late hour? Her eyes darted, recognizing some faces - others were strangers to her.

Women strutted about in almost nothing, making her feel faint with shame for them. On a little stage, just barely visible from her vantage-point, three women were dancing, kicking their legs far too high for anyone's modesty. She quickly averted her eyes.

And everywhere, people gambled - tables surrounded by men with their cards - wheels and dice made a horrible clatter. Everyone was so preoccupied with their near-illegal activities that no one even noticed the pale face in the doorway.

Mr. Costello was nowhere in sight. She couldn't find any of the other familiar officers. She'd have to settle for someone else. She was just about to pull out her handkerchief and wave it frantically when she caught sight of figure at a poker table near the back of the room.

There, one person looked back at her. The player became as still as a statue and his face took on a look even more frightened then her own. He bowed his head and spoke a few words to the men playing with him. After laying down his cards, he scooped up his winnings, picked up his hat and scuttled to the doorway. The men laughed as Annie stepped back so that the nine-year-old could exit.

"Ezra!" she hissed at him. "What were you…? Who do you think…? Why did you…?" Unable to form a question, she finally blurted out, "Do you have any idea how much you worried me?"

The boy cowered, stepping out of reach. "I'm sorry, Auntie Annie," he apologized softly. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

Not knowing what else to say, she ordered. "Home! Now!" Annie turned sharply and started back toward her house, knowing Ezra would follow. Neither said a word as they walked. Annie's anger burned and the boy shuffled behind her, just outside of the lantern's glow. Lord, how could he do this to her? He had nearly scared the life out of her. Meanwhile, as she suffered, he had been playing cards in a casino filled with full-grown, dangerous men and barely-clothed women!

When they reached the gate, Annie held it open. She waited as the boy hung back, his face outside of the light. Even in the dark, it was impossible to miss the slumped shoulders and the bowed head.

"Ezra," she called and reached for him. She stilled her movement when he jerked away from her, stumbling and nearly falling in his haste. "Ezra," she said again, softer than before. "Come in."

The boy paused, and seemed to conclude that he had no choice. He strode forward, his gaze on the path. He cringed as he made his way through the gate and then stopped to face her once he was within the yard.

Slowly shutting the gate behind her, she sighed. The boy seemed ready for a thrashing, and wouldn't meet her eyes. Yet, he didn't flee from her. Rather, he waited patiently, resigned, for whatever she had in store. Her anger fled her as she noted his passive stance, his quiet acceptance.

"I won't hit you, Ezra," she stated quietly. "I'd never hit you."

The boy didn't move. He just nodded numbly.

"Go inside. I need to talk to you."

Leading the way, he held the door open for her. She heard him whisper, "I'm so sorry," as she passed.

Once in the dining room, she lit the lamps and they sat, side-by-side, at the table - saying nothing. He smelled of tobacco and alcohol. She watched as he stared at his hands - waiting.

"Were you drinking?" Annie finally asked.

"No, ma'am," Ezra responded. "It clouds the mind."

"You smell of it," she commented.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and set it on the table. "Soaked it," he commented. "To make them think I had imbibed." He sighed and fiddled with the cloth. "They buy me drinks. I sip at them, but that's all. I have to pretend that I appreciate it. I dump it out when I can."

"Were you smoking?"

"No, ma'am. The gentlemen around me did." He picked at his jacket. "It's unfortunate. I'll have to air it out."

"What were you doing in there, Ezra?"

He shrugged, a small movement of his shoulders. "Playing poker."

"At midnight? At a casino? Ezra, you're just a boy!"

"Midnight is when the tables are at their best. A casino is where the gambling takes place. And I can't help being a boy. I just can't help it," his voice trailed off as he pulled at the cloth.

She laid one hand on his shoulder and felt him flinch - as he hadn't done since that first day. "I'm not going to hit you, Ezra," she repeated. "I promise, I won't."

He nodded tightly, his expression firm and disbelieving. Oh Lord, what was she going to do? He seemed so ready to hear lies, what could she say except the truth?

"You scared me," she said softly. "I was so scared when I looked in your room and you weren't there. I didn't know what had happened. I thought maybe kidnappers had taken you. Maybe you were hurt. Maybe you were lost and trying to get back to me. Maybe you had run away." Her voice broke as she spoke, but she didn't cry.

He raised his head and finally met her gaze. "I wouldn't run away," he told her softly. "I promise I wouldn't do that."

"I thought, maybe, your mother had come for you. I thought you'd just left and I'd never be able to say 'goodbye'." Her eyes were moist at that thought – that someday he'd be gone – returned to the mother that had abandoned him.

Blinking at her, Ezra stated softly, "I would say goodbye. I would."

"But why did you go to that casino? Why were you playing poker, of all things?"

"Because I'm good at it," Ezra said softly. "It's the only thing I'm good at." His voice trailed off and he made a sour face at his own comment.

"Heavens no, Ezra." Mrs. Greer shook her head. "You're learning the piano so quickly, and you're such wonderful reader. You're smart and clever and can do anything."

Ezra smiled for a moment, before the expression dropped. "Poker makes good money," he stated as he pulled at the handkerchief. "You can't win a jackpot unless you play the game. It's the only thing I can do that makes money."

"Why do you need to make money, Ezra?" Annie cried.

"I must," Ezra started and looked away. "I need to get enough."

"Enough for what? To go away?" Why else would the boy need money? Annie took care of his every need – but apparently, it wasn't enough. "Do you need money for a train ticket? Do you need it for when your mother sends word, so that you can go to her?"

The boy gave her an astonished look. "No…no." He reached into his pocket to pull out a wad of cash, holding it out to her as proof. There was more secreted in his shoe, and he added the bills, setting it on the table when Annie wouldn't take it from him. "That should be $178," he said, nodding toward the pile. "I need to make at least two hundred more to pay you back. I've been working hard to do it." His brow puckered as he admitted, "I don't win every night, but I'm going to do it. I swear."

"Pay me back? For what?" She looked in disbelief at the cash.

"To make it even, because Mother cheated you." Ezra grimaced and turned away, disgusted with himself. "You shouldn't be cheated. It wasn't right."

"I never wanted any money from you. Besides," Annie shook her head, not understanding. "She only took $300. You're talking about more than that."

"I eat," the boy responded. "I only increase the debt daily. I can't stand for debts, my own or others." Ezra's voice became softer as he spoke.

"Oh, Ezra. I don't want any of it. You don't need to do it. There's no reason for you to play poker."

Ezra was quiet for a moment before he explained, "It's best if I continue to play. I must stay sharp. I cannot allow my skills to fail me. Mother won't stand for it." He pressed his lips together for a moment before he continued, "If I can't make money, Mother won't want me back. No one would want me."

Reaching out, Annie encircled the boy and pulled him close. He moved without resistance, like a doll. Leaning his head against her shoulder, she said softly. "But I want you." He was so warm in her arms. It felt so good to hold him. She hadn't been able to do this yet – to cuddle the boy, to cradle him.

Ezra curled against her. "I have certain skills, my God-given talents," he drawled softly. "It's a crime to let them waste away. It's my destined livelihood. I'm to be a gambler and a confidence man. What will I do without my skills?"

"I'll take care of you," Annie continued. "You won't pay me back. I don't want that. I have enough." She twisted her position so that she could see his somber, pale face. He no longer looked frightened, but he looked so resigned. "I was so afraid that you were hurt, that I would never see you again."

"I was just playin' poker," Ezra murmured.

"They'll be no more of that," she whispered. When she felt him slouch discontentedly against her, she continued, "I don't hate the game, Ezra. Harry and I used to play cards. I just don't want you in that place with those men. You could get hurt. What would happen if they got mad at you for winning?" For certainly, the boy had won quite often. The pile of money was evidence to that.

"Sometimes they get mad," Ezra said softly. "But I can usually get away."

That word 'usually' ate at the softhearted widow. How many times had this child been hurt? Why had his mother allowed this to happen? Well, Maude had left a nine-year-old on her doorstep with hardly a how-de-do. Nothing should be surprising about that woman.

"No more, Ezra," she whispered.

"But it's all I can do," he returned. "It's the only thing I have. I have to be able to take of myself alone. I can't count on anyone else."

"You have me now," she told him. "You can count on me. And you have so much more." She kissed him on the top of his head. "If you want to play cards, we'll find another means. I used to be very good at rummy and whist. If you want to play with a couple of old widows, I'm sure Mrs. Chan and maybe her daughter would like to join us. Mr. Costello and some of the other lawmen used to play poker with Harry. I bet they wouldn't mind if you joined them. They like you. Just for match-sticks though, no money." Her mind was racing now, trying to figure this out.

The boy was relaxing further against her. He sniffled.

"You're a smart boy, so talented," she continued as she held him tight. "Such a wonderful child. You could be anything you want." He didn't respond to this comment, but he listened. With a smile, Annie said, "You want to take a sure bet?"

"Certainly," the child replied, closing his eyes as he nestled close to her. "Always."

"I bet you grow up to be an amazing young man. I bet you end up surrounded by people who love you and appreciate you. Do you want to take a real gamble?" She felt him nod against her. "You don't have to be what your mother planned. I bet you could be anything you could imagine. You'd just have to try for it. Take a gamble, and try."

His voice was sleepy as he asked, "Anything?"

"I bet you could even be a lawman like Mr. Costello if you wanted."

His tired but ironic chuckle brought a smile to Annie's face. She held him, tighter than she'd ever held him before. He smiled and pressed his head against her.

As she continued to rock him, wanting to hold him for just a few minutes longer, she worried. She wanted to keep him safe from harm, forever. As long as he lived under her roof, she'd protect him. Her only fear was what would happen when Maude returned to claim the little gambling boy.

He needed someone that he could count on, someone to trust. Where would he find that when he left her home?

[(*)][(*)][(*)][(*)]

"Ezra," Larabee greeted as he pushed open the door to the jailhouse. The room was filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Early morning light filled the room.

Standish leaned back in the desk chair and flipped a card into his awaiting hat as Chris shut the door. The card lofted suddenly and landed beyond its target.

Ezra lifted his gaze to fix it on the gunslinger. "You sent a gale through the room with your entrance," was his explanation for his failure.

"Sure," Larabee said and strode to the little stove. He held his hands up for a moment to collect the warmth before grabbing a mug from the shelf and filling it with coffee from the kettle. "Any trouble?" He inclined his head toward the cell.

"None whatsoever," Ezra replied, tossing another card that didn't quite make it. He scowled, and said, "There's a disturbance in the airflow within the room."

"Hmmm," Larabee responded as he moved to the cell to stare at the sleeping prisoner.

"Our thief slept through the night," Standish said. "Not a peep out of him since I took over at midnight."

"Hmmm," Larabee said again. Ezra usually took the night shift when they needed someone to remain vigilant at the jail. He claimed it was because he was a night-owl by nature, but Chris suspected it was because the prisoners were usually quietest in those early hours.

Of course, it took Standish away from the tables when they were at their best.

"I take it that we don't have any travelers in town worth a game?" Chris asked.

Ezra shrugged. "One or two might be with the trouble," he said. "They'll be around tomorrow," he paused and corrected himself, "… tonight."

Chris turned in time to see a card finally land within the hat, and he looked up to see Ezra grinning at him.

Chris shook his head, amused by how tickled Ezra seemed to be at the victory. Larabee waited a moment until the gambler set another card sailing before he started across the room at a quick stride. The card went in the wrong direction.

Ezra grumbled but said nothing as he sat up, straightening the cards in hand. He pulled his watch from his pocket and snapped open the cover. "You're late," he accused.

With a nod to the clock on the wall, Chris said, "I'm right on time."

"That clock is slow," Ezra told him. "It always has been, no matter how often I correct it."

With a shrug Chris took a sip from the mug. Thankfully, Ezra, unlike others in their group, made drinkable coffee.

With a fluid moment, Ezra stood and strode to his hat. He bent down to sweep the scattered cards into the crown. He yawned as he worked.

"Long night?" Chris asked.

Ezra shrugged. "No longer than what's usual."

"You been keeping busy pitching cards all night?" Chris asked.

With a sigh, Ezra said, "Well, that started after solitaire grew tedious. It loses its luster after so many games. Before that, I'd gone through the wanted posters. I swear, some of those men owe me money." He moved around the desk and picked up one of the papers. "But this is the one that we're looking for." He held it up to the jail cell. "We may have a name for our unknown prisoner. A fair match, don't you think?"

"Todd Malone," Chris said, and the man within the cell stirred at the name. Larabee took the page from Ezra and squinted at the image on the poster as he looked at the waking man. The drawing was always hit-or-miss, but the description fit perfectly. "Good job, Ezra."

Ezra flipped a hand lazily as he said, "I was bored."

"Glad you were," Chris responded as he sipped at his mug and regarded the poster. Yup, they'd found out the name of their mystery man. And with this information, they knew that his theft from Potter's Store was nothing new. It could have been much worse.

"The work of a lawman is often tedious." Standish stated as he pulled the cards from his hat. Quickly, he quickly straightened them and slipped them back into their box.

"It's better when it's quiet," Chris commented. "We've had too many dust-ups lately"

"If we're not rushing out hell-bent-for-leather after some dangerous foe, we're sitting about doing nothing watching the likes of this," Ezra gestured toward Todd Malone, who was scratching at his armpit as he sat up.

"Makes you wonder why we stay at it," Larabee said.

Malone smacked his mouth and spat on the floor.

"It's the perks," Ezra replied evenly.

Chris chuckled.

Ezra settled the hat on his head. "With that, I bid you good morning, sir." He turned to leave, but stopped midway. With a quick step, he moved to the clock and adjusted the time to match his watch. That done, Ezra nodded sharply at Larabee, touched to the brim of his hat, then strode through the door and out into the dawn.

Larabee shook his head and placed his mug on the desk. He reread the wanted poster as he made his way across the room, pausing to change the clock back to its previous time. That done, he returned to the desk and settled in for the day.