This story was written as a promise to Maria for her birthday...over 3 years ago. She wanted a story involving Chris as one of the main characters so here it is...Almost 4 years late...Happy Birthday Maria. I hope you enjoy it!

Chris Larabee glanced at his traveling companion with worried hazel eyes. Like himself the gambler's hands were tied behind his back, his horse being ponied by their captors. Blood continued to seep, where a knife had sliced his upper arm, soaking the sleeve of his jacket. The large bruise forming on his cheekbone didn't prevent the southerner's cocky grin, trust shining in the emerald eyes as he looked over at Larabee. Trust that they would prevail over the circumstances, which currently had the upper hand.

The gunslinger knew Ezra was simply putting on a show, refusing to admit his pain to the men who had ambushed them as well as to Chris himself.

The shootist licked at his split lip. His head throbbed and his ribs ached as if he'd been caught in a stampede.

Fighting the nausea that threatened to spill the meager contents of his stomach onto the road, Chris concentrated on searching for a way of escape.

The two peacekeepers had been returning from Connersville, a small town a few miles from Vista City, where they'd testified at the trial of Samuel Riggs. Thinking himself a fast gun and trying to make a name for himself, the man had been raising hell throughout the territory, challenging drunken cowhands to gunfights, threatening business owners into giving him supplies without payment and holding up a few stages. Thanks to Judge Travis the outlaw wouldn't be causing the citizens any trouble for at least five years.

Chris knew, even before the ambush, it hadn't been an enjoyable trip for Ezra. The peacekeepers had often joked how Standish must love the sound of his own voice yet he had forced himself to remain silent on the ride to Connersville unless Larabee initiated conversation.

Surprisingly Chris found himself appreciating the con man's constant chatter since leaving that growing town. Ezra seemed determined to keep his friend's mind off the nightmares that had begun to haunt his sleep once more.

The shootist wondered if he would ever understand the enigmatic con man. There were times when Larabee had made the gambler's life miserable and had done everything but kick the man out of town. He had been certain the gamester would grab his pardon and head out for better pickings where he didn't have to deal with Larabee's temper, Nathan's distrust, and Josiah's parables. Yet Ezra Standish remained in Four Corners, standing loyally by men who often treated him as if he were little better than the criminals they fought.

Of the six men who worked with Larabee, the southerner seemed the most adept at assessing the gunslinger's mood and how best to handle it. While the others usually backed off and waited out the darkness that engulfed him, Ezra more often pushed and irritated causing the inevitable explosion that released him from the blackness.

Chris wasn't certain what had set off the latest round of nightmares, which continued to linger in the back of his mind, hiding from the sunlight, waiting to take control when the gunslinger closed his eyes. He realized that Ezra was not only doing everything possible to distract him but was also pushing them harder than need be, insisting they could make another few miles before night camp. Perhaps if Larabee slept the sleep of the exhausted the nightmares would remain at bay.

That morning, not expecting trouble, gunslinger and gambler had immediately rolled from their blankets, guns in hand, at the light step of an intruder entering their camp. The ensuing battle had been quick and bloody. The ambushers while intent on taking Larabee and Standish alive had lost two of their six members before Chris and Ezra had been forced to capitulate to the greater force.

Relieved of their weapons, their hands bound the two peacekeepers had spent the day in the saddle, their mounts being led away from Four Corners.

"Ya okay Ezra?"

"I'm no more uncomfortable than you must be Mr. Larabee." Ezra was thankful for Chaucer's smooth gait. "Have you yet to-"

"Shut up you two!" The man leading Larabee's black ordered.

"That is very rude. In polite society, a simple request for silence would likely produce the same results." Ezra admonished.

"Meanin' he'd probably keep talkin' anyway." Chris quipped, drawing another grin from the gambler. "He don't exactly take orders real well."

"He damn well better learn quick iffen he wants ta keep livin'...Now both of ya shut the hell up afore I cut yer tongues out!"

*******

Ezra shifted positions trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard ground. Leg shackles had replaced the ropes binding their wrists, freeing their hands for the night. The men didn't seem particularly worried about their escaping as the chains attached to the shackles secured them to a large cottonwood. Picking the locks would have been simple if the gambler had been able to find a piece of metal and then it would have just been a matter of overpowering the guard standing night watch.

Hoping the nightmares remained at bay, allowing Larabee some much needed rest, Standish bit back a groan, feeling the knife wound stretch and blood begin to drip once more, as he gingerly removed his jacket, placing it over the gunslinger when Larabee moaned in his sleep. Their distance from the fire didn't allow for warmth and their bedrolls had been left behind.

Knowing Chris needed nourishment as much as rest, Ezra had offered encouragement as the shootist forced himself to eat a portion of the pitiful meal, which had been provided. He knew by the stiff movements and labored breath the man had damaged ribs and had seen the unequal pupils indicating a concussion.

After being given their dinner and a canteen of water Chris and Ezra had been ignored.

Pretending to sleep, Ezra had lay listening to the intermittent conversation of the men around the campfire, hoping to determine the reason for the ambush. These men weren't braggarts or blowhards. They hadn't spent the day describing in detail their plans for their captives, hoping to inflict fear or panic. They hadn't declared they were seeking revenge for a relative jailed or killed by the seven. In fact, they had barely spoken at all.

"Mr. Larabee?" Ezra whispered giving his shoulder a gentle shake when the man moaned again. Better to wake him before the nightmares got a good hold. "Mr. Larabee?"

"Ezra?" Chris blinked at the gambler in confusion. "What's wrong?"

'You mean other than being attacked and held captive by a bunch of barbaric miscreants?'

"I'm simply following Nathan's orders." The southerner smiled. "It's not good to let someone with a head injury sleep too deeply."

"Nate's here?"

"I'm sure Mr. Jackson and the others are safe and sound in Four Corners." Ezra assured him. Unfortunately, they weren't due back in the dusty corner of the territory they called home for several days. "Try and sleep."

"'Kay." Chris mumbled sleepily, his eyes drifting closed once more.

The con man rested a comforting hand on Larabee's shoulder as a shiver raced through the shootist lean body causing another groan. He glanced towards the campfire searching his mind for any memories of the men. The southerner couldn't remember them ever sitting at his gaming table and didn't think they'd gone through all this trouble simply to retrieve gambling losses but if he could remember what offense he had committed, perhaps he could bargain for Larabee's release. Chris shouldn't be punished for Ezra's sins.

*******

Sore muscles protested the shootist’s movement as wakefulness returned with the rising sun. The world spun dizzily and a shiver racked his body sending pain racing up his side as he forced himself into a sitting position.

He needed to stoke up the fire to chase away the morning chill. Suddenly realizing there was no fire nearby, he wondered why they'd felt it necessary to make a cold camp.

Startled by the shuffling sound at his side, Chris forced his vision to focus, watching as curled into a ball, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, the sleeping gambler scooted closer to the gunslinger, seeking the slight warmth his body heat had provided.

Larabee suddenly realized the thin covering he clutched to his chest was the southerner's tan traveling jacket. Damn! Had Ezra spent the entire night lying on the damp cold ground without anything to protect him from the elements? Why hadn't they used their bedrolls? Why had the gambler felt Larabee's duster wouldn't provide the gunslinger enough warmth? He could have used his poncho...No the poncho had been left behind...with the rest of their gear.

Why? Why had they-

The events of the previous day flashed through his mind with the rattle of the leg shackles and the twinge of pain that stabbed through his chest as he moved to place the jacket over the shivering con man.

Larabee assessed his injuries as he sought a means of escape. Taking a deep breath wasn't quite as painful as it had been suggesting his ribs were merely bruised rather than cracked or broken. Although it took his vision longer than normal to focus, the nausea had started to subside and the headache had lessened to a dull throb.

He blinked, focusing on the men still stretched out around the campfire.

Who the hell were they? People from his past? Men seeking revenge against the seven peacekeepers? Someone from Ezra's past? They didn't seem the type the southerner would target for one of his cons. At least nothing more elaborate than the scam he'd been pulling when he and Larabee had first met. The small amount of money lost on that swindle wouldn't have been worth ambushing him after all this time.

He didn't recognize their faces from the wanted dodgers filed in the Four Corners sheriff's office but then again he didn't spend hours studying the posters like their youngest member.

It was possible Chris had crossed paths with the men during one of his drunken rages in the first years after his family's death. Perhaps like Top Hat Bob, he had met the men somewhere in his wilder youth.

Chris cautiously rose moving behind the tree to answer the call of nature.

"Are you alright Mr. Larabee?" The southern drawl was barely above a whisper as he eased himself back to the ground, the sore ribs eliciting a small groan.

"Be better if I had my guns and could sure do with some coffee." Chris kept his own voice low.

"Your weapons would be most convenient and even that witches brew Mr. Tanner deems to call coffee would be most welcome, but I was referring to your physical well being?" Not bothering to open his eyes, the gambler curled tighter under the jacket.

"Better than yesterday."

"While my shirt is by no means clean perhaps we should use it to bind your ribs." Ezra suggested. "It would make traveling more comfortable and easier for you to move if we find a chance to escape."

"And just what are you supposed to wear if we did that. A gentleman don't parade around in his undershirt, although I know one who marched down main street wearing only his boots, hat, guns and a tablecloth." The gunslinger grinned, his teasing tone letting the gambler know he appreciated the offer. "I'll move just fine if need be. You have any idea who these fools are."

"I'm afraid little was obtained from the bits of conversation I was able to overhear." Ezra sighed regretfully.

"Try and get a little more sleep Ezra. Might early for southern gamblers to be up and about without good cause."

Nodding agreement, Standish bit back a cry of pain when Larabee lay a restraining hand on his arm as he attempted to rise. "Abominable hour...Should be...out...lawed..."

"I'll talk to the judge about it when we get back." Larabee's grin faded as the con man drifted back to sleep, adding vehemently, "And we will get back Ezra. Ya got my word."

*******

Pulling his duster tighter about himself, Chris leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes listening to the night sounds, his body sore and weary, his head throbbing incessantly, his mind still active, refusing to allow him to fall immediately asleep. He forced his hazel eyes open long enough to check on the gambler curled nearby.

Larabee wasn't surprised the southerner had dropped off almost instantly, staying awake only long enough to quench his thirst and take a few bites of dinner. He suspected the con man hadn't slept more than a few moments the night before. Ezra enjoyed his comforts and Chris had yet to discover a down mattress waiting for them when they made camp on the trail. A bedroll wasn't a feather bed and they didn't even have blankets to protect them from the night air.

A twinge of guilt nipped at the gunslinger as he remembered waking to find the gambler's tan traveling coat, helping keep out the chill. He couldn't be certain but he thought there was a hint of memory of the nightmares that had plagued him of late, releasing their grip before they got a good hold because of the southerner.

It wouldn't surprise Chris at all to discover the con man had spent the entire night watching over him. Damn gambler seemed to get a thrill out of blowing Larabee's notions about him to hell as easily as if he touched a lit match to dynamite.

To those who didn't know Ezra, the southerner was the quintessential con man and in many ways Larabee would agree with the statement. There were very few people Standish couldn't fool into believing exactly what he wanted them to believe. Like the chameleon, whose survival depended on his ability to blend into his surroundings, the con man used his talents to disguise and protect himself.

From the beginning Ezra had kept up the pretense he was nothing more than what he appeared to be, a greedy, lazy, shallow, self-serving gambler who cared about nothing but money.

In time, each of the other four regulators had come to see what Vin and JD had seen from the start...The true Ezra Standish was a sensitive, caring and brave individual hiding behind the cocky facade and dimpled grin he presented to the world.

There were times when Chris and Nathan or even Josiah and Buck forgot just how talented the con man truly was. Where Ezra was involved it was easy to fall into the old habit of jumping to conclusions. Larabee constantly had to remind himself things were rarely as they appeared when dealing with the con man and Ezra wasn't always in the wrong.

The second day had passed much the same as the day they'd been ambushed. After saddling their horses their wrists had been bound and the band had traveled with very little conversation among the bandits.

What little information they had, had been gleaned listening to the short argument taking place around the campfire that morning as one of the men voiced his opinion regarding feeding the prisoners breakfast.

"Let 'em starve." The man grumbled around a mouthful of the reheated dinner.

"We want top dollar they gotta be in good shape." The obvious leader of the four stated dispassionately. His beard and slicked back red hair were in need of a trim but his clothes were cleaner than those worn by his companions. Unlike Ezra's emerald eyes, which could be so expressive, holding warmth and humor, the man's pale green eyes were cold and dull. A jagged scar ran across his nose and down his cheek disappearing beneath the beard.

Sizing them up, Chris had let his gaze settle on each of the men.

The man confronting the leader was approximately the same age. He was a big man with muscles quickly going to flab, greasy blond hair that probably hadn't been washed since his mother stopped bathing him and teeth rotted and stained from chewing tobacco. He reeked of cruelty but Chris recognized the man for what he was, a coward who bullied those smaller than him. He felt important and found pleasure in causing fear and pain in others.

The third man was average and non-descript. It was doubtful anyone would have noticed him if he walked down Main Street naked. He was a follower, not a man to think for himself but one to take orders without question.

Chris looked at the fourth man...a boy really, younger than JD. As strange as it seemed considering the circumstances, there was still a innocence about him. The few times he'd been unable to avoid meeting the peacekeepers' gaze there had been regret in the chocolate brown eyes. Ezra had remarked, the youth seemed to be as much a captive as themselves.

"Joe and Dan's dead coz a them."

"Yer grief sure didn't keep ya from sellin' their horses in the first town we got near." The non-descript bandit had commented, explaining the man's disappearance for several hours.

"Shut the hell up Ed! What the hell ya think we should a done? Cooked 'em up fer dinner."

"Joe and Dan are dead because someone made a mistake." The leader glared at the men seated around the fire. "We should have been able to take those two without a shot being fired. Their deaths can only be explained by the fact they were somehow alerted to our presence."

"Goin' hungry for a couple a days ain't gonna hurt 'em none."

"Feed them." He had turned and walked toward the stream. The order wasn't shouted or even threatening but it was clear he expected to be obeyed and those who defied him would pay a dear price.

"Waste a grub." Muttering the man had kicked the second plate away as the youngest member of their band reached for it. "One plate'll do. Macklin said feed 'em but this ain't no restaurant." Picking up his rifle he'd followed the younger man watching carefully as the plate and two steaming cups of coffee were set on the ground between the captives. "Eat up boys. Gonna be a long time till dinner."

Chuckling he had returned to the fire and his own breakfast.

They'd spent the day in the saddle, stopping for less than an hour to noon and rest the horses.

Removing his duster, Larabee stretched out beside the gambler using his coat to try and keep them both warm. Perhaps by morning he would have thought of some way out of this mess.

*******

The sun was resting on the western horizon before making it's final descent when the man in charge called a halt, ordering night camp made in a small clearing. Trees offered shelter, from the wind on one side and a clear pool of water was protected by boulders on the other.

Chris could feel more of Ezra's weight pressing against his back as the horse slowly came to a halt.

"Get down."

At the order, Larabee turned in the saddle intending to help the gambler as much as possible but Ezra slid to the ground, crumpling to a seated position when leg muscles refused to hold him.

"Ezra?" Suppressing a wince at the pain in his ribs, the gunslinger quickly swung his leg over the saddle horn and dropped to the ground, kneeling beside the con man. "Ezra...Ya okay?"

It was a long moment before the southerner turned his head to look at the man, beside him through eyes barely open, and nodded. "J-just a..a b-bit...weary." The lack of water caused his normally smooth as silk voice to sound raspy.

"Can't understand why." Larabee's grin faded as the man who'd ponied his horse loomed over them carrying the leg shackles and chains.

"Move over by them trees." It was the first words they'd heard the youngest member say.

"He needs water."

"Ain't my say."

Thankful they hadn't tied his hands behind him, the gunslinger placed them on Ezra's shoulder to keep him still as the stubborn man struggled to rise and pushing to his feet turned to face Macklin. "He needs water...We both do..." The breakfast conversation running through his mind Chris decided to take a card from Ezra's deck and play to the men's motives. "Need ta clean his arm too. It gets infected and he ain't gonna be worth two bits to ya...if he even makes it where you're headed."

The man met the Hoosier's gaze for several long minutes before nodding agreement, turning to the young man holding the shackles. "Keep a gun on 'em Rudy. Let them do what's needed before securing them for the night."

Without bothering to acknowledge the man's consent, Chris gripped the gambler's uninjured arm attempting to help him to his feet. He nodded his thanks to Rudy as the man sat the shackles aside and careful of Ezra's injuries, helped Larabee raise the gambler to his feet assisting them the few yards to the spring.

Easing Standish to the ground the young man motioned Chris to step back, keeping his gun aimed at the shootist. Chris tensed, prepared to break the boy's neck if he hurt the southerner, when Rudy pulled his knife from its sheath and stooped beside the gambler. The gunslinger released the breath he was holding as the young man cut through the ropes binding Ezra's wrists before doing the same for Chris.

Rubbing his wrists to get the blood circulating again, Larabee waited until Rudy stepped away before moving to kneel beside the gambler again. Ezra hadn't moved, staring at the dirt he sat in.

"Ezra?..." Taking hold of his chin, Chris turned the gambler's head until he could see the dull eyes. "Ya thirsty Ez?"

'Thirsty? Is that what Chris had asked?...Hell yes he was thirsty! He was thirstier than he'd ever been in his life.' The gambler nodded. As dry as his throat was, the few words he'd managed earlier had made it feel as if he'd swallowed tree bark, besides it just took to damn much energy to talk.

Moving the southerner closer to the pool, Chris dipped his cupped hands into the spring, holding the water to Ezra's dry lips. He wasn't prepared for the con man's reaction to his need for the life giving fluid as Ezra threw himself forward dunking his head into the cold clear water, drinking as fast as he could swallow.

"Ezra! Stop!" Grasping his shoulders, Larabee pulled the man from the water, holding on tightly as Ezra attempted to return, wanting nothing more than to quench his thirst. "Damnit you'll make yourself sick!" He continued to hold his friend as the struggles weakened.

Seeing the complexion suddenly pale and the green eyes begin to moisten, Chris turned the con man over, holding his head as Ezra began to retch, his body expelling the water.

"S-s-sorry."

"It's okay, Ez." The gunslinger rubbed his back soothingly. "It's alright. Ya just gotta take it a little easy for a bit."

Larabee looked up surprised when Rudy silently handed him a tin cup. "Thanks." Filling the cup, he pressed it to Ezra's lips, pulling it away after a few sips.

Wanting only to put a bullet in the brains of their captors, he murmured reassurances as the gambler leaned against him. "Hope ta hell, ya ain't gone through this for nothin'." He whispered.

"'M...fine." Ezra mumbled.

"I know." Chris grinned, unconsciously stroking the chestnut curls.

Why the hell hadn't he stopped Ezra?

Just as he had the previous morning, ignoring Ezra's protests Chris used some of the water from the canteen to try and clean the wound on Ezra's arm, tearing a second strip from his shirttail, to use as a bandage.

"Mr. Larabee, we are about to begin our third day of travel with these gentlemen and I must say I find their company rather...confining." Ezra gritted his teeth against the pain as Chris tied off the bandage. "We need to find a way to slow them down. We both know the farther we travel the less likely our fellow peacekeepers will be able to pick up our trail when it's deemed necessary to begin a search."

Turning his attention to the provided meal, Chris took a deep swallow of the strong brew and tore the biscuit in two offering Ezra half.

"Thank you Mr. Larabee but as you know I rarely eat at such an early hour." Ezra ignored the hunger pains gnawing at his insides, in favor of giving Chris the nourishment needed to help his own injuries heal. Due to the concussion, the gunslinger had been able to keep very little down and spending the past two days in the saddle hadn't helped matters. The gambler had spent an hour coaxing the shootist to eat most of the evening meal before giving in to his own weariness after a few meager bites.

The gunslinger wasn't fooled by the excuse, certain Ezra had to be as hungry as he was and knowing the southerner needed what strength the small amount of food could provide. "Better eat Ez." Using his half of the biscuit as a spoon, Chris scooped up some of the beans. "Ain't Inez's but it'll take the edge off."

"I-" Receiving a poor imitation of his usual glare, the gambler trailed off and following Larabee's example using the biscuit and his fingers ate enough to satisfy his boss.

Why the hell hadn't he tried to stop the southerner? Larabee wondered again. He might not be able to read Ezra as well as Vin, or even Josiah, but Chris could easily recognize the glimmer that lit the southerner's emerald eyes when he was up to something. He'd seen that glimmer this morning. Claiming he couldn't eat another bite, Ezra finished his coffee. Chris resisted the urge to feel the gambler's forehead for signs of a fever when the southerner began softly whistling a tune Larabee didn't recognize, as he watched the men break camp.

"No Mr. Larabee, I haven't lost my sanity and I don't have a fever." The con man stated softly, giving the gunslinger a quick smile.

Following Ezra's green-eyed gaze, Chris watched as Chaucer pawed the ground and tossed his head tugging at the remuda rope. All eyes turned to the animals as the other horses reacted to the chestnut's growing agitation.

Letting the youngest member take care of his mount for him, the bully removed the shackles and kept his rifle trained on the prisoners as Chris and Ezra began saddling their horses.

Chaucer momentarily quieted as Ezra whispered soothingly, grimacing in pain as he lifted and placed the saddle on his beloved companion.

"Whatcha reckons wrong with 'em." Ed questioned, his eyes darting to the surrounding hills as he tightened the cinch.

"Could be anything...Might smell a cat nearby or could just be a change in the weather..." The leader glanced at the clear sky. "Keep an eye out...If it's a cat it might be hungry enough to follow."

"Chaucer is a highly intelligent and sensitive creature." The horse nickered tossing its head as Ezra stroked his long neck. "He can sense danger whether it be to himself or others."

Ed's gaze nervously scanned the immediate area again as Chaucer pawed the ground, tossing his head and rolling his eyes.

"What the hell ya so chipper about?" Spitting a stream of tobacco juice into the dirt, the man jabbed the rifle into Ezra's back as the gambler once again whistled the soft tune.

"Why I was simply contemplating the enjoyment I'll get watching you receive your just rewards for the heinous treatment we've received while in your company." Ezra shrugged with a grin. "You see my traveling companion has several brothers who will stop at nothing to avenge any wrong doing against his person."

'Myself included.' The gambler silently added.

"They gotta find 'im first and that ain't gonna happen." The man grinned maliciously as the youngest member tied the gambler's wrists together.

"Oh I have no doubt they'll find him. You see while he's a white man, Vin, the brother closest to Chris, is probably a better tracker than the Indians who taught him to use his special skill...along with other techniques that come in handy when seeking revenge."

Suppressing a smile, Chris ducked his head seeing the young man shiver as Ezra continued with this narrative. Only Macklin didn't appear entranced by the gambler's smooth words.

"Then of course there's the talents possessed by the other brothers. Nathan is so skilled with a knife I wouldn't be at all surprised if he couldn't skin a rabbit simply for its fur and send the little fella on its way...bald but otherwise unharmed. Buck and JD are both experts with their guns, able to place bullets exactly where they can cause the most agony making a person beg for death. We mustn't forget the oldest...a mountain of a man who firmly believes in his God and his family and doesn't hesitate to defend either. Josiah could snap every bone in a person's body as easily as if they were nothing more than brittle twigs."

It was a long moment before the man shook himself breaking the spell Ezra had woven. Spitting another stream of tobacco juice he smirked and shrugged. "You got more shit than a herd a buffalo!"

"You aren't the first to make such a declaration but I can assure you nothing I just told you concerning Chris' family is an exaggeration. They will find him and they will be certain to dish out retribution to those responsible." There was no doubt in Ezra's mind the words he spoke were the truth. He knew the remaining peacekeepers would do whatever necessary to learn the truth and he was just as certain the search for Larabee and himself wouldn't end until they received the answers they sought.

"Ya ain't scarin' nobody so shut yer hole and mount up!" With a vicious yank he pulled the reins free. The man stumbled backward as Chaucer suddenly reared, his hoofs pawing the air before he turned and raced away at a full gallop.

"Safe journey my friend." Ezra whispered. His eyes widened when the man brought the rifle to his shoulder aiming at the fleeing animal.

"NO!" The bullet went wild as the southerner pushed the barrel upwards and away.

"Sonuvabitch!" Swinging out in anger, the big man slammed the rifle butt into the small of Ezra's back, driving the southerner to his knees. "You good for nothing bastard!"

In an effort to protect himself, Ezra curled into a ball as the bandit kicked out, his boot repeatedly striking the gamester's arms, legs and back. He wasn't aware of the commands being shouted by the other men or Ed attempting to chase down Chaucer. He was only conscious of the pain encompassing him with each delivered blow.

Larabee rushed forward diving into the man and knocking him off his feet as he raised the rifle stock over his head intending to crush the gambler's skull. Straddling the bandit, Chris locked the fingers of his bound hands and delivered several blows to the stunned man's chin and jaw before a bullet buried itself in the dirt near the two men. Both men rolled away as a second bullet came even closer than the first.

"That's enough!" Macklin roared, re-holstering his six gun.

Ignoring the leader as he marched across the few yards separating them, Chris scurried toward Ezra who was attempting to sit up, his gaze frantically searching the area needing to know neither Chris nor Chaucer had been injured by the shots fired.

"I told you Coty, we need them in good shape." Macklin growled, the back of his hand connecting with Coty's cheek. "Didn't think I'd have ta keep such a tight rein on ya this time...Last warning, we lose any money because you damaged the goods and it'll come out of your share...and there won't be a next time."

The two men barely glanced in his direction as Ed returned without the gambler's horse. "Whatever it was scared 'im good. Damn horse probably won't stop running till he reaches the ocean."

Chris squeezed the southerner's shoulder as the gambler dropped his head hiding the dimpled grin at the words.

"I warned you, Chaucer was a very sensitive animal." The con man shrugged. "And he's never been partial to strangers."

"I don't know how he did it but I know he let that horse go." Coty sneered sarcastically. "Just how the hell ya think we're 'sposed ta get the goods there without a horse? Ridin' double's gonna be slow goin' ta keep from killin' another mount."

"And how would shooting the creature have solved that problem?" Macklin questioned.

"It woulda kept anybody backtrackin' 'im ta us."

"The trail will be colder than a month old dead body by the time anyone comes across that horse."

"If we split the supplies up he could ride the pack horse." Ed suggested. "Course iffen we still had Joe and Dan's horses there wouldn't be no problem at all."

Shooting the man a look of disdain, Coty jerked the lariat from his own mount. Crossing to the con man he shoved Larabee aside and began knotting the rope around the one binding Ezra's wrists. "Guess you walk now. Bet ya won't feel like spillin' them fancy words a yourn all over Hell's half acre tonight. "

Ezra forced a grin. "I converse intelligently or impart information in a clear and concise manner but I never spill words."

Ed and Rudy looked to Macklin expecting him to say something as Coty yanked the southerner to his feet and tied the other end of the rope to his saddle horn.

"Maybe walkin' for awhile will take some of the spit and vinegar out of him." The leader commented. "Mount up. We're losin' daylight."

As if he were deliberately attempting to drive the men to distraction or perhaps out of pure defiance, Ezra had given the gunslinger a wink and cocky grin, commenting on it being a beautiful day for a stroll about the countryside. He occasionally pointed out an unusual rock formation or plant life that would interest Nathan, talked about someplace he'd visited or a particularly spirited poker game, or just whistled a lively tune.

Coty had taken great pleasure in occasionally yanking the rope, causing the gambler to stumble or fall as he followed the horse across the uneven ground.

His anger seething and his stomach knotted with worry, Chris hadn't been able to prevent his small smile as each time he regained his feet the gambler made some comment about tripping over unseen hazards.

Larabee's fear for the gambler had increased with each passing hour as Ezra's commentary wore down, his concentration centered on placing one foot in front of the other.

The gunslinger had been ignored by everyone except Ezra, who shook his head and straightened his shoulders, each time Chris had offered to trade places with the southerner.

Macklin had finally relented, letting the gambler ride double with Chris the past two hours, stating they needed to make better time if they were going to reach the spring by dusk.

'Damnit Ezra. I knew ya was up ta something. I shoulda stopped ya.' The gunslinger mentally berated himself as he gently cleaned the knife wound, shutting out the sight of the various bruises covering the con man's arms.

"S-slowed 'em...d-down." The southerner mumbled as if hearing the gunslinger's thoughts.

"That you did my friend...That you did."

"Here...Ain't much but it's clean." Rudy pulled a strip of cloth from the saddlebags at his side. Intent on helping his friend, Chris hadn't noticed the younger man's disappearance long enough to retrieve the bags.

Glancing nervously at the men setting up camp, Rudy had let Chris finish treating the gambler's injury and give him a bit more water before guiding them to the other side of camp snapping the leg shackles in place and fastening the chains to prevent escape.

Larabee couldn't help but notice the young man had placed them where they would be most protected from the cold wind.

Ezra's head lolled, coming to rest in the hollow of Chris' shoulder as the gunslinger pulled the southerner to him supporting the sleeping con man against his chest.

"Ya forgot a very important member when ya was describing my family Ezra." He stated softly, his hand stroking the gamester's back as Ezra moaned in his sleep. "Ya forgot about my cunning little brother with the devious mind, silver tongue and a wit as quick as his draw."

*******

"...m-move on..." Ezra mumbled. Twice before the gambler had awoken in pain, crying out as his overworked leg muscles contracted and drew in on themselves. Each time he had finally surrendered to his exhaustion once again as Chris massaged the cramped muscles until they relaxed, releasing Ezra from the pain and letting him return to much needed sleep.

Larabee's heart twisted as he listened to the gambler's sleepy murmurs. He had thought Ezra had finally begun to believe he was truly part of the misfit family of men that protected Four Corners. Had he, himself, done something to cause Ezra's insecurities to once again raise their ugly heads? It was true the two men rarely saw eye to eye on any given subject and more often than not the con man received the brunt of Chris' anger, deserved or not, but somehow things always worked out.

While the gambler still talked of purchasing his own saloon, Ezra's dreams seemed to have changed in the time he'd spent in Four Corners. The Hoosier had thought Ezra had finally found a home where the gambler would be content to spend the rest of his days. It was easy for Chris to imagine Standish, in the not so distant future, seated on the front porch of the small ranch he'd purchased for Nica; the beautiful woman at his side rocking the youngest of their green eyed children.

Yet the few words the Hoosier had been able to distinguish in the southerner's sleep filled mumbling had been talk of leaving and Chris hadn't failed to notice earlier, Ezra had spoken of the peacekeepers being Larabee's family not his own.

"...Don't wanna...g-go..."

Larabee wasn't certain if the con man was talking about going with Macklin and his crew or leaving Four Corners but he took advantage of the opportunity to reassure Ezra of his position in the western town.

"We don't want ya ta go Ezra." He whispered, gently squeezing the con man's shoulder as the southerner shifted searching for a more comfortable position on the hard ground. "We want cha ta stay right here with us...Where ya belong."

*******

Miles away, Nica bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding furiously. A light sheen of sweat covered her trembling body as she fought to erase from her mind, the all too realistic image of Ezra's motionless body lying in a puddle of blood.

The young Indian woman had long ago learned to listen to warnings foretold in her dreams. Her mother had always told her the spirits were whispering in her ear. As a child Nica had begged her mother not to say anything about the visions. Studying with the shaman meant being separated even further from her family and the rest of the tribe. The way she saw it, if the spirits decided they wanted her to take the shaman's place when it was time, they could tell him of her abilities.

Scrambling from her bed, she quickly dressed and began working about the house. She wanted to go to town and find the other regulators but she had promised Ezra she wouldn't travel alone at night unless it was an emergency and the sun wouldn't begin its journey for another two hours.

Kneading and setting bread dough aside to rise, she scrubbed the floor and sat beside the flaming fireplace keeping her nervous fingers busy with mending. Despite the close roaring fire, Nica shivered, feeling a deep chill as if she were lying on the cold ground and covered with wet dew.

Her dark eyes constantly darted toward the window, nervously awaiting the first signs of sunrise.

*******

Refilling his coffee cup, Vin paced the office area of the jail in an attempt to shake the uneasy feeling, which had held him in its clutches since the previous day. Instead of loosening, its grip seemed to grow stronger with each passing hour.

Considering the time for the trial and three days to return to Four Corners, logically Chris and Ezra weren't expected back for two days. Yet, defying logic, Tanner couldn't escape the overwhelming feeling Lady Luck had once again turned her back on the seven.

Stubbornly, common sense dictated he was wrong and worrying over nothing, but his intuition and instincts had kept him alive too long to ignore his feelings, no matter how subtle they were. Every fiber of his being was screaming that Chris and Ezra were in trouble.

Stepping out onto the boardwalk, Vin stood in the shadows staring down the dark street toward the end of town, wanting nothing more than to ride out and find his friends.

He sighed and took a sip of his coffee. Nothing would make him happier than to prove his instincts wrong.

*******

Uncertain exactly when he'd dozed off again, Chris jerked awake at the sound of light footfalls nearby.

"Thought this might help him some." Stooping beside the sleeping gambler, his voice barely above a whisper, Rudy offered the gunslinger a small jar of salve. "Ma taught me how ta make it and it works real good on bruises, blisters and sore muscles."

Larabee watched as, glancing nervously at the others sleeping around the fire, the young man thrust the jar into his hand and hurriedly pushed to his feet. The young outlaw silently moved back to the fire before he could respond and Larabee turned his attention to the con man curled up beside him.

Where the hell did he start?

While he’d tried to make the con man as comfortable as possible, Chris hadn't removed the southerner's boots, fearing Ezra would never be able to stuff his swollen feet back into the expensive leather footwear. Although the gambler's lower extremities needed the healing concoction the most, it would be easier to let Ezra administer the salve to his own legs in the morning. Still, he couldn't help but grin, picturing Ezra's expression if he awoke to discover the gunslinger removing his trousers.

Gritting his teeth, Larabee finally eased Ezra onto his back, whispering reassuringly, repeatedly straightening limbs as the gambler tried to curl up again. "Damnit, Standish! Lay still! I got somethin' here ta make ya feel better."

"M-Mr. La-rabee?" Ezra rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and blinked several times. "Is it...time to rise already?"

Chris shook his head. "No Ez, not yet."

"Good." The green eyes closed and the Southerner relaxed, his breathing evening out.

Pushing aside the gambler's coat, Larabee unbuttoned the dirty white shirt, cringing at the large bruises marking the vulnerable places Ezra hadn't been able to protect from Coty's vicious kicks. Chris pushed away the southerner's hands as Ezra shivered and tried to pull his clothes tighter around himself.

Torn between letting the gamester get the sleep he desperately required and the need to care for the man's injured back and arms, the Hoosier gently rubbed a tiny bit of the salve into the bruises he could reach.

As Larabee carefully coated his bloody chaffed wrist, Ezra hissed and his eyes flashed open. He jerked his hand from the gunslinger's grasp, as he attempted to glare at the other man.

"Sorry, Ez."

"Whatcha' do-doin'?" The exhausted gambler looked about him in sleepy confusion, cradling his wounded hand to his chest.

"Got some medicine for ya," the gunslinger explained, moving to slip an arm around the southerner's shoulders. "Come on and sit up for me. Let me get ya takin' care of and ya can go back ta sleep."

Chris looked up in surprise as, kneeling beside them, Rudy helped lift the gambler into a seated position before offering the cups of coffee he'd brought from the fire.

"Help warm yer insides," the young boy murmured lowly.

Larabee steadied the tin container, guiding it as Ezra clutched the cup in shaky hands, sipping at the hot liquid.

Moving behind the gambler, as Chris supported the wobbly man, Rudy lifted the con man's jacket and shirt, gently applying the salve to Ezra's bruised back.

"Might I ask wh-" Ezra's breath caught in a painful groan as the younger man touched a particularly tender spot. "What you're doin' here, young man? Ya don't exactly seem cut from the same cloth as your fellow traveling companions."

Rudy frowned, looking in confusion at Chris. "Huh?"

"He wants ta know how ya got mixed up with Macklin and the others," Larabee translated.

His eyes darting from Ezra's back to the three men sleeping beside the fire and back again, it was a long moment before the boy finally answered. "My pa and Mr. Macklin was good friends. He was Pa's commandin' officer back when the states was still feudin'. The fever took Ma a couple years back. Pa caught the consumption. He knowed he was dyin' and he didn't reckon fifteen was old enough ta be on my own so's he wrote Mr. Macklin and asked him ta watch out fer me."

"Great choice," Chris sneered, his voice low, following the young man's nervous gaze to the sleeping men.

"Pa was a good man," Rudy fiercely defended his father. "He didn't know about..." He hesitated. "about...Mr. Macklin he showed up at our place 'bout a month ago...couple days afore Pa p-passed...Pa tole me...he wanted..." Trailing off, he sucked in a deep breath, blinking back tears.

"What's he want with us?" The Hoosier whispered, silently urging Ezra to drink more of the coffee as Rudy finished, and readjusted the con man's jacket and shirt.

"Ain't real sure...From what I hear, ya ain't like his usual..." His gaze darting once more to the men around the fire, Rudy's voice dropped even lower as Ezra sagged against Chris. "This is the first trip I've been on, but 'ccordin' ta them others, Macklin and them, they...trade in goods, down Mexico way and a couple other places."

"What kinda goods?" Chris demanded to know. He'd seen no sign of a pack train or supply wagons and nothing had been said to indicate they were expecting to meet up with one.

"Human f-flesh," Ezra mumbled when Rudy didn't answer. "They're...slave traders, Mister Larabee."

*******

The sun was just beginning to chase away the night shadows and a damp chill still clung to the morning air. They had traveled high into the mountains and even though it was only early August, the nights could get downright cold. Feeling the cold and damp in his bones, Chris came instantly awake at the first sound of movement around the campfire.

Reeling from Ezra's earlier mumbled declaration, Chris had passed the rest of the long night watching over the gambler, trying to keep him warm and as comfortable as possible. He'd finally fallen asleep a couple of hours earlier when his own exhaustion had refused to be pushed aside any longer.

Other than carefully tucking the duster tighter about Ezra and himself, Larabee remained motionless, watching their captors through slit eyelids as the men began to stir.

'They're slave traders.' The con man's weary revelation whirled through Larabee's mind for the hundredth time. "'Member that...fam-family that passed through town a couple a months back...Lookin' for their daughter..." Chris had nodded absently as Ezra's remarks trailed off and the southerner had drifted back to sleep but now those words sparked a nearly forgotten memory.

The Corbins had a small spread near Bradley, a tiny town, a two-day ride from Four Corners. Their teen-aged daughter had ridden out one summer morning for a swim in the river and never returned. The family's first thought had been that she'd run off with the cowhand who'd been courting her but riding to the neighboring ranch had proved futile. According to his boss, the cowhand in question hadn't left the ranch in several days.

When it had been determined the young girl hadn't drowned, nor had her clothes or horse been found, neighbors had formed an extensive search, which had also proven futile. The tracks found near the river had petered out a few miles from the homestead and no one appeared to have seen anything out of the ordinary. Now, months later, as far as Chris knew no one had discovered the girl's fate.

Larabee couldn't help wondering if perhaps Ezra wasn't right and the girl had become a victim of the men around the campfire. If indeed she had, he didn't want to think about the kind of life the innocent young woman was leading now.

"As wonderful as that smells, right now I would much rather have a cup of the mud Mr. Tanner has the audacity to refer to as coffee."

Startled by the con man's barely audible comment, Chris gazed at the motionless man curled beside him. Ezra's opinion of waking before the day was several hours old, was well known among his friends but for once Larabee had truly hoped the gambler would sleep as long as possible.

"Can't argue with that." The Hoosier whispered. Overwhelmed by concern, his small grin faded, when Standish didn't respond. Releasing a sigh of relief when he realized his friend's slow even breathing indicated he was asleep again Larabee turned his attention back to the men by the campfire.

The lawman watched as sipping at the cup of reheated coffee Rudy offered, Macklin waited until the boy had filled the canteens and watered the horses before taking his saddlebags and moving to the spring.

Coty grunted in disgust kicking out at Ed as the man sleepily tripped over his companion's outstretched legs and staggered into the bushes to answer the call of nature.

As if not wanting to draw any undue attention, Rudy ignored the two men and set about re-heating what was left of the previous night's meal, adding another can of beans and opening a tin of biscuits.

Larabee tensed as stretching and scratching, Coty glanced their direction. A cruel sneer touched the outlaw's lips as he moved past them.

Chris pushed himself into a seated position when the man returned from relieving himself.

"Rise and shine boys. We should be arrivin' at your new home by late this afternoon. Just know yer gonna be down right happy there…well at least one a ya will be." Coty smirked, looming over the two men as he fastened his pants. "Get yer good for nuthin' ass up!"

Ezra couldn't stifle his out cry as Coty kicked out, his boot viciously connecting with the gambler's thigh. Pain shot through his body as his already abused muscles contracted and tightened.

"Leave 'im the hell alone!"

Laughing the outlaw took a step backwards as Larabee lunged at him, knowing the chain would prevent the gunslinger from doing any harm.

"Touch 'im again and I'll kill ya." Chris growled, immediately placing himself between Coty and the con man.

The outlaw's smile faded, the sarcastic retort never passing his lips and a chill ran down his spine as he stared into the gunslinger's cold hazel eyes. There wasn't a doubt in his mind this black clad man meant every word and nothing short of death would stop him, from accomplishing the task he'd set for himself.

Swallowing around the lump that had suddenly lodged in his throat, Coty recovered as Rudy approached with their breakfast. "Reckon I ain't got nothin' ta worry 'bout cause where yer headed I figure ya won't last more'n a couple days." He laughed, beaming with the self-satisfaction of a secret knowledge.

Using his body to block Coty's view, as he set the tin plate and cups on the ground beside Ezra, Rudy slipped two extra biscuits onto the plate which held more food than usual and hurried away, knowing the older man would follow.

"While I appreciate the gesture Mr. Larabee, do you really think it's wise to draw more unwanted attention to yourself?" Ezra questioned as Chris quickly knelt beside the gambler who was attempting to rub away the pain coursing through his leg. "May I point out you don't need any further injuries if you're to effect an escape."

"It wasn't a gesture Ezra. I meant every word I said and may I point out, rather needlessly, you have more injuries than I do."

The southerner nodded. He hadn't meant to sound as if he were belittling the other man's actions. He knew, full well, Chris would die trying to protect any of his men.

"Nothing more than minor inconveniences I can assure you." Standish waved away the previous day's beating as insignificant. "You however are still suffering from the effects of a concussion." Accepting the cup of coffee Chris offered, Ezra took a sip of the hot liquid, before continuing. "Don't bother denying it. If I'm not mistaken, I would say you still suffer every so often from double vision and undoubtedly a nagging headache. Not to mention, being in the saddle all day has to be hell on your damaged ribs."

"Bet I still ain't as sore as you." The Hoosier grinned, settling on the ground beside Standish and passing the southerner a biscuit. "And, thank you, I'm seein' things just fine."

Ezra stared at the gunslinger in confusion, sensing the man was talking about more than the scenery.

As he forced Standish to eat breakfast, Chris turned the topic of discussion to escape, hoping it would divert the con man from noticing Larabee had given him more than half the food.

*******

"Run young man." Ezra stated when Rudy returned for the now empty plate and cups. His whisper didn't deter any of his no nonsense tone. "Take the first opportunity and get away. You don't belong with these men."

The boy nervously glanced at the men saddling the horses.

"Get away and make a life for yourself while you can. Neither, Mr. Larabee or I hold you responsible for any of this." The gambler hurried on before the younger man could voice the anticipated argument. "You said yourself your father didn't know how Macklin had changed. He wouldn't have placed you in this position if he had and he wouldn't want you involved with the man. Don't say anything to him. Just run before you do something you'll always regret."

Rudy stared at the ground and fiddled with the cups. "Got no place to go."

"Go to Four Corners. There are good people there who will help ya all they can. It doesn't matter where you go Rudy. Just go."

"Ya think he will?" Chris questioned, as without a word, Rudy quickly returned to the fire to finish breaking camp.

"Depends on which scares him most, Macklin or doing something he abhors." Ezra flashed the gunslinger a confident grin. "Five'll get ya ten he runs like a startled rabbit."

"That's a sucker bet if I ever heard one." Chris chuckled. His forced jovial tone died quickly in the face of their reality.

Neither man had been able to formulate a plan of escape, which didn't end with the death or injury of one or both of them. Either man would rather die than spend the rest of their lives kow-towing to someone else's wishes but Ezra had pointed out how hard it was to extract revenge from the grave. They had finally decided their best option was to continue waiting and watching for an opportune moment.

*******

Constantly watching for signs of their friends, Vin Tanner mentally berated himself. He had known something was wrong. Had known it as surely as if it had been a banner headline on The Clarion's front page. Yet he had waited. Waited because he'd hoped he was wrong. He'd repeatedly told himself they might have been delayed with the trial.

When Nica had told him that morning of her dreams, his own blood had run cold and the little voice in his head had screamed, 'I told ya so!'

A telegram, to Judge Travis, had confirmed his worst fears. Chris and Ezra hadn't waited for a verdict. Having left immediately after testifying, Larabee and Standish should have been home by now. But 'should have been' and 'being' were two totally different things.

Four Corners would have to temporarily do without their protection. Their friends needed help and no one was willing to stay behind. Mary could wire Orrin if there were any problems. If the judge got pissed and wanted to fire them so be it.

While Vin had pointed out that Ezra wouldn't be happy with the men if they allowed Nica to accompany them, only knowing how quickly they needed to leave had ended the young Indian woman's argument and begrudgingly she had returned to her home to await news.

Having made the trip to Vista City before, Vin was fairly certain he knew the route Larabee would have chosen to return home but what if he was wrong. It was a large country and any number of things could have convinced his friends to change their course of travel. What if Vin and the other men wasted even more time searching the wrong area?

He glanced at the sun making its descent toward the horizon, once again cursing himself for ignoring his inner voice. If Chris and Ezra were in trouble, even a few hours delay could make a difference.

Catching the Texan's gaze, Buck gave a nod of confidence in the tracker's skills. None of the men appeared to doubt that he would be able to find their friends' trail. The sharpshooter tried to still his inward shaking. They all seemed certain he would lead them to Chris and Ezra as easily as if he already knew their location.

Tanner only wished he could be as sure.

*******

As the last horse entered the pass, Macklin called a halt and Larabee and Standish found themselves staring down into a beautiful valley, nestled among the mountains.

Trees shaded the enormous house, on all sides. The structure appeared to sit directly in the center of the sheltered valley. The yard and gardens surrounding the house were well tended. To one side were several small washed and well-cared for houses, with roses and lilies planted near each porch.

Chris found himself admiring several nice looking horses grazing among the cattle, which roamed around the far edge of the meadow.

Looking into the valley, a visitor might have thought they were looking upon a small town. A bunkhouse, large barn, stables, smoke house and other outbuildings stood behind the expensive dwelling. A multitude of small cabins and three long buildings were situated behind the outbuildings and beyond that were fields of crops.

"Two sentries in the hills to our left." Larabee spoke softly, making note of the men positioned in the hills looking down on the valley.

"Two more on the right and assuming the owner of that magnificent home is intelligent I would assume there is at the very least one more somewhere around the house." Ezra stated.

Receiving the go ahead, signal no one else had seen, Macklin led his little procession into the valley.

*******

Ignoring Larabee's muttered curse, Ezra stood silently in the middle of the small shack, his green-eyed gaze raking over every inch of the room.

At a silent nod from Macklin, ponying Larabee's horse, which carried the two prisoners, Coty had led Ed and Rudy past the outbuildings to the secluded shack sitting a few yards from an empty corral.

As they passed, furtive glances were cast in their direction from several people working the gardens before they once again concentrated on their chores not wanting to attract unwanted attention from the man seated nearby, a rifle laying across his thighs.

Coty removed leg irons from wall of the small building and jerking Chris and Ezra from the horse, locked the shackles into place before shoving the two lawmen inside and leaving them alone to wonder about their fate.

The log building was small and sturdily built. The only furnishings were two neatly made beds, the corn husk mattresses covered with heavy blankets. A chamber pot sat in one corner and bars blocked escape through the lone window, which faced the corral

It was the corral itself that fascinated Ezra.

From a distance it would appear to be just like any other horse pen in the country but upon closer inspection it was smaller in diameter and barbed wire was entwined among the wood which comprised the structure.

A long forgotten memory from his childhood suddenly surfaced sending a shiver through the con man.

"I'm afraid Mr. Larabee we are in deeper shit than either of us realized."

"Guess we don't have anything to worry about then." Chris responded nonchalantly.

"Excuse me?" Ezra turned to face the gunslinger, certain the concussion he'd suffered had caused the man some sort of brain damage.

"Ya know what Nate always says," Larabee grinned stretching out on one of the beds. "Ezra Standish could fall head first into a well of shit and not only come out smelling like a rose but figure out some way to make a profit from it."

*******

The silence of the night camp was broken only by the crackling of the fire, the chirping of the crickets and the occasional song of a night bird. Their thoughts on their missing comrades, the five men didn't speak, afraid of giving voice to their fears.

Vin stared into his coffee cup, not wanting to see the hope in their eyes, wishing he could hear Chris telling Ezra to shut up as the gambler bitched about a night spent in the wilds.

Nathan checked his medical supplies for the fourth time while Josiah thumbed the pages of his worn bible, his eyes on the stars overhead.

Needlessly checking the picket line again, JD returned to his seat on the log by the fire next to Wilmington who expelled his nervous energy by absently whittling on a stick.

"Get some sleep kid." Buck said quietly when Dunne rose several minutes later to check the horses again. "Sun'll be up before ya know it."

"They're gonna be okay aren't they Buck?" The young sheriff asked, begging for reassurance. "We're gonna find them and they'll be okay right?"

Wilmington tossed the stick into the flames and reached for his rifle. "Get some sleep. I'll take first watch." Buck momentarily rested his hand on the sharpshooter's shoulder as he passed, moving into the darkness.

*******

Satisfied the nightmare had momentarily released Larabee, allowing the gunslinger to sleep somewhat peacefully, Ezra stiffly eased himself down onto the homemade mattress of the second bed.

Just as every night before, the shootist’s mumblings had been calls for Sarah and Adam, cries of denial, pleas for their return and threats of revenge. Tonight, however, there and been an addition to the mutterings. Ezra had plainly heard the words seventy-eight and Chris' name. It was clear his time spent unjustly imprisoned had returned to mix with the nightmares of his family's deaths.

Earlier, rifle in hand, Coty had unlocked the door long enough for a thin old woman with gray hair and chocolate colored skin to hand Chris a tray containing two plates of dinner and two cups of coffee.

"Thank you ma'am." Standish smiled at the woman.

While she had performed her assigned task in silence, Ezra had clearly read the sadness and sorrow in her dark eyes when her gaze briefly met his before Coty roughly pulled her from the small cabin. Smirking, his rifle aimed at the two men who moved forward in anger at his treatment of the woman, the outlaw had dared them to take another step.

When she returned, a short time later, for the empty plates, she left a pail of water and dipper but was careful to do nothing that would cause Coty to act against the men or herself.

Chris had cussed and kicked the wall, venting his anger, but still suffering the effects of his head injury, Larabee had fallen asleep shortly after Ezra had convinced him of the futility of his actions, stating he would better conserve his energy by getting some rest.

Ezra's own rest had been interrupted at the sounds of Larabee's moans as the gunslinger thrashed about fighting the demons that came to life in his dreams.

Adjusting the blanket, the southerner stared at the window, his thoughts on the corral beyond. His heart began to pound against his ribs as long locked away childhood memories burst free and flooded his mind refusing to be ignored.

Maybe he should have told Chris about the corral. Perhaps he was wrong. Why worry the gunslinger any further without cause?

Attempting to push aside the memories, Ezra bit back a groan as he shifted about looking for a comfortable position for stiff sore muscles.

He knew if he closed his eyes, knew if he happened to fall asleep his dreams would be filled with images of another time, another corral and two different men.

The sun was beginning to light the eastern sky when Ezra finally surrendered to his weariness.

*******

Neither man rose from their bed or even bothered to glance that direction when the door was pulled open.

"Comfortable boys?" Coty grinned, as rifles in hand he and Ed entered.

Laying on his back, his hands folded behind his head, Larabee ignored the men who'd ambushed them, letting his gaze travel to the enormous black man who followed them into the cabin. Standing a good head taller than Nathan, he appeared to be a solid mass of muscle. His homespun shirt hung open revealing jagged scars that stood out against the ebony skin of his massive chest and it was obvious his nose had been broken more than once. His expression impassive, the man stood in the doorway carrying two sets of shackles.

"While I can't say much for the accommodations, these mattresses are surprisingly comfortable." Ezra commented, without opening his eyes, deliberately turning his back on the men and pulling the blanket up over his shoulders.

The smile that had begun with Standish's sarcastic remark quickly faded when Chris glimpsed the hatred that flashed through the mountain of a man's eyes.

Taking an angry step toward the gambler, Coty paused when Larabee jumped to his feet, remembering the gunslinger's earlier promise.

"Get up they're ready for ya."

"Perhaps later," Standish mumbled, "No gentleman rises at such an ungodly hour."

"Get up Ezra." Chris ordered when Coty nodded to the man in the doorway.

Flipping back the quilt, Standish suppressed a groan as he swung his feet to the floor and lazily stretched, working the kinks from his back. "Good morning Chris." He flashed a bright smile at the gunslinger. "I trust you slept better than you did on the trail."

Larabee choked back a grin as starting at his feet and tilting his head back to see the man's face, his expression incredulous, Ezra slowly raked his gaze over the huge man who'd stepped closer to the bed. "My word you are a big one aren't ya! Why you, sir, make our Mr. Sanchez look downright puny."

"Get them cuffs on 'em! You know the man don't like ta be kept waitin'" Coty ordered Ed. His patience wearing thin, the outlaw shoved Ezra through the door as soon as his wrist shackles were in place.

*******

"You were late, Mr. Macklin. I don't like to be kept waiting." The words carried clearly on the morning air as the prisoners and their guards approached the veranda of the main house.

"It couldn't be helped but I'm sure you'll be pleased with the goods."

"I'd damn well better be." The warning was clear. "My guests begin arriving in a few days and I would hate to disappoint them."

"Heaven forbid." Ezra muttered, with a sardonic smirk, drawing a chuckle from Larabee as the group stopped a few feet from the edge of the patio where enjoying coffee from expensive china, the two men sat at the table discussing business.

His well-tailored suit wasn't as expensive as the man's across from him but with his beard and hair neatly trimmed, Macklin could have been sitting in a fancy Boston restaurant.

Larabee glanced at Ezra, stunned to see the color drain from the southerner's complexion a moment before the infamous poker face slammed into place, when the two men rose and turned to face the prisoners.

In his middle sixties, with silver, collar-length hair and intense blue eyes, the heavy set man wasn't much taller than JD but carried himself with an air of authority that demanded absolute obedience. Leaning heavily on a gold handled cane giving support to a right leg that hadn't worked correctly since the war, he slowly approached the group.

Chris' expression displayed his own disdain as the older man stood inspecting the shackled men clearly not as pleased as Macklin had hoped.

Ezra watched as the man circled Larabee, looking for defects as if inspecting a prize bull. The southerner's heart skipped a beat when standing in front of the blond gunslinger again, his eyes narrowed slightly as if trying to bring something in the distance into focus. It was several moments before he turned his attention to the gambler.

The gunslinger wasn't surprised when Ezra straightened, ignoring stiff and bruised muscles, defiantly pulling himself up to his full height, refusing to look away as the man focused on him but Larabee couldn't help wondering if it wasn't a shiver he'd seen shake the con man.

"You kept me waiting for this?" He sneered. "I don't believe either one of them would last five minutes especially this one." Gripping the shackles he pulled Ezra's arms up examining his hands. "Soft...no calluses."

"Thank you for noticing." Ezra flashed his gold tooth. "I do my best to avoid such unsightly occurrences."

"No one gave you permission to speak." The man stated his demeanor was calm as if he were a patient father talking to a child. "Never speak unless spoken to."

Chris rolled his eyes at the man's directive. Telling Ezra not to talk was like telling the sun not to rise.

"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised Mr. Crowder." Macklin stepped closer glancing at Ezra. "He's stubborn and tougher than he looks. I'm sure you'll discover he'll give ya yer money's worth."

"I wouldn't make such a foolish wager." Standish commented, "But if you'd care to I'm sure the odds would be favorable."

"I'll not warn you again." Crowder's gaze hardened.

Turning his back to the others, the outlaw lowered his voice speaking to Crowder for a long moment before both men faced the prisoners once more, renewed interest flaring in the older man's eyes.

His eyes narrowed again as they settled back on Larabee. "What's your name?"

"I'm Ezra P. Sanders." Standish spoke up before Chris could answer giving the man one of his many aliases. "And this esteemed gentleman is Christopher Larson. Unfortunately, I can't say it's a pleasure meeting you. "

Ezra's head snapped around with the force of the blow as Crowder backhanded him, his ring cutting a gash along the southerner's cheekbone.

"I warned you about speaking without permission." Without glancing at the house he snapped his fingers and only Larabee seemed surprised when a thin man instantly appeared placing a riding crop in Crowder's outstretched hand.

"Goliath."

Coty and Ed quickly grabbed Larabee when he moved to stop the enormous man who gripped the southerner's arms, spinning Ezra around and holding him tightly as Crowder administered the punishment.

While Chris struggled against the men who held him, intent on helping his friend, Ezra never made a sound, his teeth biting into his lower lip, his eyes shut tightly against the pain as the leather switch struck his back.

Larabee flinched with each strike of the riding crop, relief washing over him when the older man finally lowered the weapon.

Crowder turned his attention to the Hoosier. "I asked your name."

"He told ya our names." Chris knew there had to be a good reason Ezra hadn't given the property owner their correct names.

"I didn't ask him, I asked you." The older man was once again the patient father, explaining the rules. "While you reside here I expect the rules to be followed religiously and without question. Disobedience will not be tolerated for any reason...Now, what is your name?"

"Chris Larson."

"I don't appreciate being lied to." Unprepared Ezra couldn't completely stifle the small groan when the riding crop struck his back again. "What is your name?"

From the corner of his eye, Larabee saw the southerner stiffen, clenching his jaw and trying to mentally prepare himself. "Chris...Larson."

The gunslinger's stomach churned as the leather swished through the air before meeting Ezra's back.

"What is your name?"

"Chris...Alright!" The shootist surrendered, unwilling to continue letting Ezra suffer as the older man prepared to administer further punishment. "Larabee...My name's Chris Larabee."

A smile of satisfaction graced Crowder's face as he slowly lowered the hand containing the riding crop. He stood staring at the gunslinger for several long moments. "I thought I recognized you. A few years older but time seems to have treated you well." He focused on Coty. "Take them to the bath house. Their smell is making me nauseous."

"You're v-very existence does the...the same for m-me." Ezra muttered, the comment muffled by the black man's chest.

Jerking from the men's grasp, Chris placed himself between Crowder and Ezra as the property owner's eyes flashed with anger, his grip tightening on the riding crop.

Even with Larabee shackled no one was certain who would win the battle that would take place if Crowder once again raised his hand to Standish. Macklin put an end to the standoff, smashing the butt of his six gun against the back of Chris' head, hard enough to stun the gunslinger, dropping him to his knees.

Crowder watched as, hearing the Hoosier's grunt of pain, Ezra struggled to escape the giant's hold in an attempt to reach his friend.

At his nod, the two captives were led away, Coty and Ed's grip the only thing keeping Larabee on his feet.

*******

His head throbbing unmercifully, Chris helped Ezra to the bed where the southerner sighed with relief as he flopped down on his stomach.

"Y-ya should l-lay down yourself, Mr. L-Larabee before ya f-fall down." Ezra muttered, breathing deeply in an attempt to work past his pain. They were the first words the verbose con man had spoken since leaving Crowder's presence.

Taking the gambler's advice, the gunslinger sat down, gripping the edge of the bed. He just needed a minute to get the nausea under control and stop the room from spinning. He just needed a minute and than he would try and help the southerner.

The lukewarm water had done little to soothe sore muscles but at least they had been able to wash away the dirt. He'd watched the trembling hands as Ezra struggled with the buttons of his shirt but Coty had stopped him from assisting the gambler. Their clothes had been exchanged for a set of home- spun shirt and pants, such as Goliath wore, their boots disappearing with their clothes leaving them barefoot.

The room tilted dangerously when Larabee jerked his attention to the door. Blinking several times he tried to focus as an Asian man of indeterminable age entered followed by the Negro woman who'd brought their dinner the previous night.

"Hey-"

"He won't hurt him." The woman stopped Larabee's protest as the man knelt next to Ezra's bed.

"My name is Po Lin." The man introduced himself, removing several items from the cloth sling type bag he carried. The two people helped Ezra into a seated position, gently removing his shirt. Steadying the gambler while Po Lin examined him, the woman attempted to smile at Larabee hoping to reassure the gunslinger but couldn't erase the sadness in her eyes.

Chris watched ready to kill the man if he caused Standish further injury, as the healer cleaned and re-bandaged the knife wound rubbing an herbal mixture on the cut to stop the beginning infection.

Ezra gasped as the man touched a particularly tender spot on his ribs. "Badly bruised but I do not think broken." The woman mixed the herbs he passed her with water.

"This'll make ya feel better young fella." Cupping her hands around Ezra's she guided the cup to his lips, softly urging him to drink it all. "Po Lin here knows all 'bout plants and healin'. He done helped alotta us here."

"To bad he ain’t helped ya get outta here." Larabee muttered.

"That tastes damn near a-as b-bad as Mr. J-Jackson's." Ezra quipped forcing a smile for the woman. "Thank you m-ma'am. My apol-apologies for using profanity in front of a lady. "

Easing Ezra back onto his stomach, the woman began mixing another cup of herbal water.

"It will help with the headache and sick stomach." Po Lin stated when Larabee hesitated to take the offered cup.

"Promise ya mister, I ain't mixed nuthin' fer Po Lin that hurt nobody." The woman smiled. "Master Crowder sent Po Lin and me here ta help ya."

"Wouldn't need help if it weren't for him." The Hoosier snapped. With an apologetic look, the shootist took the cup and remembering Ezra's statement, gulped the medicine as quickly as possible.

Larabee stretched out, rolling onto his side to keep an eye on the man tending Ezra. He couldn't prevent the smile watching the woman murmuring to the southerner, her fingers tenderly stroking the wet curls. Women just couldn't seem to resist mothering Standish or Tanner.

His thoughts turned to the other peacekeepers. Had they realized the two men were in trouble? Were they searching for them?

"He did not break the skin but I fear Master Crowder will not be so easy with his punishment next time." With a feather light touch Po Lin smoothed a sweet smelling salve over the welts on the southerner's back.

"Ain't gonna be a next time." Larabee growled softly as sleep finally claimed him.

*******

Keeping Peso at a steady walk, Tanner's blue eyed gaze never left the ground, his worry escalating with each mile that passed without sign of his friends.

The men had begun breaking camp with the false dawn and were on their way as soon as it was light enough to see the ground beneath their feet.

"Bet Ezra talked Chris inta stayin' a couple a days in Hagerstown." JD stated, trying hard to sound confident, in his theory. "Hear they got a real fancy gamblin' house there."

"Could be right kid." Buck agreed, with a nod, although none of them believed it. No one pointed out the fact Larabee would have wired Four Corners to let them know of their plans. "But I'm gonna kick their asses all the way home iffen we find 'em sitting there enjoyin' themselves."

"After we do some enjoyin' of our own." Josiah added, receiving a smile and nod from everyone but the sharpshooter.

*******

The headache nothing more than a dull throb, Chris forced open his eyes and glanced about the room, the small amount of light coming in through the window suggesting it was late afternoon. He was surprised to find Standish, shirtless, one shoulder braced against the wall, staring out the window.

Shifting positions slightly, grimacing, the con man bit his lip in a vain attempt to stifle yet another groan as pain from his bruised ribs shot up his side and the welts on his back stretched as he moved.

Anger surged through the gunslinger again "Ya okay Ez?"

Startled, the gambler's breath caught in his throat. "F-fine Mr. Larabee. I apologize if I disturbed your sleep."

"Seems only fair. Reckon I've woke you up enough times on this trip." The chains rattled as Larabee swung his feet to the floor, surprised at how stiff and sluggish his muscles felt. He took a deep breath giving the room time to stop spinning.

The shootist couldn't help but notice how carefully the gambler was moving when he crossed the room returning to hand Larabee the dipper of water.

"Thanks. Didn't realize how parched I was." Larabee sighed after draining the dipper.

"That tends to happen when you sleep for a day and a half." Standish grinned at Chris' shocked expression.

"A day-"

"And a half." The con man nodded moving back to the window.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Once we've found a means of escape and returned home, I'd be more than happy to help you discover the reason for your recent insomnia."

"Sounds like a plan." Chris chuckled. "But at the moment I was thinkin' more about what ya know about that corral out there." Ezra's poker face was steadfastly in place but Larabee hadn't missed the flash of fear in his eyes as they'd passed the corral. "Sure seems ta have ya spooked."

Ezra chewed his lip debating on how many of the memories flooding over him he wanted to give voice to. Before he reached a decision the door opened and Coty stepped inside.

*******

Larabee's anger was overriding his headache as he was forced to stop at the edge of the patio. He was fighting the desire to ignore the guns and pound Coty's head into dust.

Ezra's grip on his arm had stopped the shootist from attempting that very act when stating Crowder only wanted Larabee, the outlaw had roughly shoved the gambler causing him to stumble backwards, his back connecting with the wall.

"Now is n-not the time M-Mr. Larabee." The southerner had stated trying desperately to breathe through the pain.

Watching the man seated at the table a few feet away, casually perusing the paperwork in front of him, Larabee fought to get his anger under control. He needed to keep a clear head. The fastest way to lose a battle was to give in to anger or fear. The best chance of winning was by keeping emotions under control, listening carefully, observing the enemy and anticipating their next move.

Coty shoved the rifle barrel into the small of Larabee's back urging the man forward when without looking up, Crowder used a hand to motion them closer.

"Be seated."

Chris considered refusing the offered chair but the headache was growing in velocity and he found himself concentrating on keeping the wavering surroundings in focus.

Coty looked as surprised as the thin man who'd earlier given Crowder the riding crop when the property owner poured a cup of coffee for the gunslinger. "Abraham, take Coty into the kitchen and have Tessy serve him some of her apple pie. She makes the best pie in the territory." He glanced at the outlaw waving away what he assumed was concern. "It's alright. Mr. Macklin has been paid and I guarantee Captain Larabee won't try to escape without his friend."

Crowder waited until both men had departed before turning his attention to Chris.

Larabee steadily met the older man's gaze in silence. This was Crowder's game and Chris refused to make the first move. He'd learned enough from Ezra to know playing this hand without knowing the other man's rules was a sure way to lose the match.

"I would offer you something stronger than coffee Captain but Po tells me you have a concussion and I don't think it would sit very well on the upset stomach that often accompanies such a condition."

"Wouldn't matter. I only drink with friends." Larabee sneered. "What the hell is with calling me Captain?"

"I told you I thought you looked familiar but the name Larabee is hard to forget...Even those who've never personally made your acquaintance know your reputation."

"So my reputation looked familiar?" The sarcastic comment caused the other man to chuckle.

"My young nephew, Peter Matthews, was in your regiment during the war."

Larabee searched through memories he'd locked away when Lee's surrender had brought an end to four years of horror. A fuzzy image surfaced of a dark eyed youth full of energy and enthusiasm, too brave for his own good. A boy who looked at Chris with eyes full of hero worship, willing to storm the gates of hell with a slingshot if that's what his commander asked of him. In his mind he saw that same young boy lying crumpled and cold on a battlefield, his chest covered with blood, sightless eyes staring at the sky. The image faded to be replaced with that of JD.

Was that why he had been so against Dunne joining them at the Seminole village? Because the Bostonian reminded him of another brash young man, one minute so full of life and bravado and the next cold and lifeless. So many other young men...

"Gettysburg..."

"We were told that's where he died." Crowder nodded. "He introduced us once. It was some little nowhere town in Pennsylvania a few weeks before that infamous battle. You'd given the men two days of rest and told them to enjoy themselves. My regiment was there as well. I must say I was surprised at how young you seemed. The way he talked about you I expected the wise old man of the mountain who worked miracles, not some youngster barely out of his twenties."

"Age didn't matter. Everyone was too young for that war." Chris commented, momentarily lost in his own memories. "He was a good kid."

"Yes he was." Crowder agreed. Ignoring the cooling coffee, he smiled at the gunslinger.

"So what is this, revenge because I couldn't keep him from being killed?"

"Soldiers die. That's a fact of war and I've never been one to waste time on such petty trivialities." Ignoring the quickly cooling coffee, he swept an arm expansively. "Look around you Captain. I own everything as far as you can see...and I do mean everything."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"You should be, although your opinion is of no concern to me. I've worked damn hard to achieve my goals. With the exception of a few amenities, my home is completely self-sustaining. My point is you belong to me now. You and your smart mouthed friend. Bought and paid for. I want you to understand that like everyone else here, your very lives depend on my generosity. No one enters or leaves my valley without my permission. I control everything that happens including who lives and who dies. Now," he leaned forward folding his hands on the table. "To be honest, I don't expect your friend to last very long. No matter what Macklin says, I don't think he has a spoonful of grit in him. You, on the other hand, could find life here very pleasant. My people are loyal, content and quite happy. As one of my overseers you would supervise the workers, have your own cabin, your choice of women to satisfy your needs...and you could give your friend some protection."

Crowder studied the man across the table, a thrill of satisfaction racing through him when he saw the hatred and anger blazing in the gunslinger's eyes. He had been correct in his estimation of Larabee's reaction.

"I'm making you this offer because my nephew thought so highly of you. You see you were bought for a specific purpose. In a few days, my guests will start to arrive. They'll be paying quite a good deal of money for the entertainment I provide..."

"Entertainment?"

"There are several enjoyable activities planned culminating in a boxing match of sorts...between you and your friend." He smiled. "Unless of course you accept my offer."

"Go to hell."

"As I said Captain, I control everything that happens here..."

"First off, you can stop calling me Captain," the gunslinger interrupted, "cause the war ended a long time ago. Secondly, you say you've worked damn hard to achieve your goals but my guess is you've never broke a sweat your entire life. Most likely ya either stole this place or it was built on the backs of the people you've enslaved." Chris leaned forward emulating Crowder's pose. "You think you're in control but that's only an illusion. Your overseers loyalty will last only as long as you pay them and you're only in control as long as your people are kept at gunpoint. There's not a person on earth who's contented being forced to wait hand and foot on some petty little man with delusions of God hood." The Hoosier pushed to his feet. "I don't know what the hell you were doing in the war but your nephew sacrificed his life to free people from assholes like you."

"My nephew was a naive young fool who knew nothing about life." Crowder shrugged, snapping his fingers. A moment later, Coty appeared in the doorway. "I wonder if your friend would be as noble if offered the same proposition."

Chris turned and stepped back, placing both hands flat on the table, his quiet voice deadly. "I guarantee he'd give ya exact instructions on where to shove your proposition. Ezra's stubborn as a two headed mule and got more grit than a wagon full a sand. In alotta ways he's a helluva lot smarter than me and even I know your proposition ain't nothin' but a load a shit."

"An intelligent man knows his limits. He knows when the game is lost and makes the best of any given situation." Coty gave Chris a shove when Crowder turned his attention back to the papers he'd been going over earlier.

"It might be interesting to see if you know him as well as you think you do." The man smiled, hearing the slight hesitation in Larabee's step.

*******

Ezra released a sigh of relief. Anger radiated from the gunslinger but as far as he could see Larabee wasn't sporting any new injuries.

*******

Larabee's return to the cabin had immediately been followed by Ed and Goliath’s arrival, shackling the gambler's wrists before dragging him away.

The sun had been up for several hours before the southerner was shoved back into the small shack, unable to stifle a groan when his knees hit the floor.

Chris had spent the long night, pacing the small area, attempting to work off the anger that warred with his worry and his own guilt as Crowder's words kept running through his mind.

'I wonder if your friend would be as noble if offered the same proposition.'

He hadn't hesitated to state what he believed the southerner's answer would be. He had been certain how Ezra would react. It was the second comment that had planted the seed of doubt.

'It might be interesting to see if you know him as well as you think you do.'

How well did he know Ezra? How well did any of them really know the enigmatic con man?

Con man.

Ezra had never hidden the fact he was a gambler and con man, proudly describing for Josiah, a revival con he'd once carried out and what had brought it to an end. From the beginning they'd known his occupation, having witnessed it first hand.

Standish spoke very little about his past and even less about his childhood but over time the six regulators had managed to piece together enough to know the happy, carefree childhood Maude had professed him to have was far from perfect.

Raised to be a gambler and con man, Maude had started her lessons the moment Ezra was able to understand and follow instructions. She'd taught him to think on his feet, to observe everything around him, to read people as easily as he read the printed word and had exploited his talent with the cards for her own financial benefit.

Ezra had been trained in the art of manipulation by the leading expert in the business. Find a person's weakness and use it to your advantage. Maude had taught by example using the small boy's desire to stay with the mother he loved as a reward for doing her bidding to her satisfaction.

Fearing her son's big heart would interfere with his work, she had taught him to bury his feelings illustrating time and again that feelings could be used against him, wishes were nothing but a waste of time and dreams were easily crushed.

Leaving him behind when he wasn't needed for a job had ingrained in the youngster his mother's main rule...Look out for number one because no one else would.

Chris' mind immediately turned to the Seminole Village. Just as he'd told Nathan he had asked Standish to join the fight because they might need a cheat. He hadn't been surprised when the con man had refused nor when he had arrived the next morning prepared to ride with them.

He'd been angry when it appeared Ezra had run out on them but wasn't as surprised as he should have been when the gambler returned to pull their asses out of the fire.

Since that incident, Ezra still plied his trade as a gambler, but with few exceptions, his skill as a con man had been mainly used to aid the peacekeepers.

'I wonder if your friend would be as noble if offered the same proposition.'

Was he right about Ezra's answer or would the con man fall back on his training and look out for number one? While Larabee felt swamped in guilt that the question had entered his mind when Standish didn’t return he couldn’t help wondering if the gambler had accepted the offer.

Ezra had proven himself to be a true friend, loyal to the men he worked beside yet a life time of training was hard to ignore.

‘I wonder if your friend would be as noble if offered the same proposition.’

An image of Ezra’s reaction to the man flashed through his mind. Was there a history between the two? Was that why Crowder had sounded so certain in his statements regarding the gambler?

‘I wonder if your friend would be as noble if offered the same proposition.’

No! Chris was right about Ezra. He did know the man! If the con man even considered accepting the proposition it would be to try and protect Larabee until they discovered a means of escape.

With that thought, all doubt had disappeared.

Ezra flinched and pulled away when Larabee gripped his arms attempting to help him to his feet.

“I didn’t accept the offer.” The soft words tore into Chris’ heart as Standish settled on the bed instantly falling asleep.

“Knew that Ez.” Larabee pulled the covers up over the gambler and crossed to his own bed prepared to watch over his friend.

*******

Overwhelmed by the myriad of feelings flowing through them each of the five men moved through the remains of the deserted campsite in stunned silence.

The tracker stepped cautiously, studying the earth to decipher what had taken place.

JD stood staring at the two mounds of dirt, desperately trying to blink back the tears that filled his eyes.

Clutching the flat brimmed hat he'd found laying next to the dead embers of the fire, Buck angrily kicked out sending the blackened coffee pot sailing through the air to smash against a tree.

Nathan watched in confusion as Josiah pulled himself from his stupor and began rolling the bedding and packing the belongings that lay scattered in the dirt. Brushing away the dust and leaves, he carefully folded the emerald green jacket placing it with the black Stetson before retrieving the dented coffee pot.

"Grab their gear and let's ride." Tanner ordered crossing to where the horses were ground hitched. "We're losin' daylight."

Wanting revenge as badly as the sharpshooter, Buck scooped up Larabee's bedroll and saddle bags tying the items to his horse as Josiah did the same with Ezra's belongings.

"Shouldn't we...make 'em crosses..." JD's voice caught in his throat. "I mean-"

"Don't know what names ta put on 'em. Just know it ain't Larabee or Standish." Tanner checked his saddle cinch.

"Really?" Daring to hope the tracker was right, JD swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. "Ya sure?"

"Signs show men tryin' ta come up on 'em real quiet like. Lots a blood over there and over there." The tracker pointed to areas on the outskirts of the camp.

"Saw blood on the blankets too." Nathan pointed out.

"Worrisome." The sharpshooter nodded. "But the bodies in them graves was dragged from those two spots." Knowing the sheriff wanted to believe but still needed reassurance, Vin motioned for the younger man to follow. "See this?...The way the boot print's deeper than this one?" He gave the easterner a moment to study the tracks, noticing the other three men had also gathered close. "After ridin' all day, Chris favors his right knee first thing in the mornin'."

"Got throwed from a bronc. 'Bout tore his knee ta hell." Buck nodded in agreement. "Was damn near six months afore he walked without a limp."

"Looks like six horses was brought in but eight horses left. Chris and Ezra's was bein' ridden." Crossing back to Peso, Tanner swung into the saddle.

"Hot damn!" Josiah gave Wilmington a hearty slap on the back, almost knocking the womanizer off his feet. "Chaucer don't let nobody ride 'im without our gambler givin' 'im the say so. Let's go find 'em boys."

*******

“Ezra?” Chris sat up and crossed to sit on the edge of the con man’s bed. “Come on Ezra, it’s time to wake up. Sadie brought ya by some dinner.” Larabee urged. “Coffee’s still hot and the sandwich’ll help put a dent in your appetite.”

He grinned as with a groan, Ezra forced open his eyes, blinking owlishly at the gunslinger.

The gambler attempted to hide the grimace as he used his arms to push himself into a seated position, silently accepting the cup Chris offered.

“Ya okay Ez?” Larabee asked after Standish had finished the sparse meal.

“Fine Mr. Larabee.” Ezra unconsciously rubbed the sore muscles in his shoulders, happy to have feeling in his arms again. After refusing Crowder’s offer of overseer, he’d passed the long cold night with his hands shackled to the cross-beam of a wooden frame, fully expecting to feel the sting of the whip tearing into his skin.

He’d seen the frames used before in punishing slaves. With no post to press their body against, a slave twisted about in pain and the whip more often than not struck more than the exposed flesh of their back.

“I never thought ya’d take ‘im up on his offer Ez.” Chris stated when Standish continued to silently stare into the now empty coffee cup. Seeing the skepticism in the green eyes that finally met his, the gunslinger grinned sheepishly. “Okay, maybe for a minute or two I thought ya might give it some thought but I knew ya wouldn’t really accept it.”

“I told him to write up a contract.”

Larabee sat back stunned. Had he been wrong? Had he misunderstood Ezra’s quiet comment earlier that day?

Seeing the Hoosier’s shocked expression, Ezra allowed his own smile to grow. “Then I gave him explicit instructions on where to put it for safe keeping.”

“I knew it!” Chris declared. For the first time since leaving Four Corners Larabee laughed; a hearty belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes and helped release some of the tension which held him in its grip. “I told that arrogant bastard that’s what you’d do.”

Wiping at the corners of his eyes, the gunslinger missed the surprised expression on the gambler’s face.

Shivering, his arms numb, his body aching, Standish had passed the long cold night by concentrating on blocking out the words which had cut to his soul.

“I expected Larabee to refuse when offered the position but I must say your refusal of such a generous proposition truly surprises me.” Crowder had smiled. “You see I offered him the position because he’s an honorable man…A man others will follow. I had thought his desire to protect you would sway him but he didn’t give a damn what happened to you. I guess he doesn’t know you as well as he thought. He said if I wanted someone who only cared about saving their own hide than you were the person I needed to speak with.”

Ezra had repeatedly told himself the man was lying, trying to cause a rift between the two men but the words had hit to close to the fear the gambler kept locked away. The fear the six men he respected and dared to consider friends were merely running a con. The fear they still saw him as the self absorbed greedy gambler who constantly sought ways to increase his finances and would turn away if it came down to saving himself or one of them.

Larabee had believed in him! The honorable man had trusted Ezra. Chris had believed he would do the right thing.

Chris caught the fleeting moment of delight in the emerald eyes before Ezra looked away.

Following the con man’s troubled gaze, tension returned when he realized the southerner was once more staring at the window.

"It's time ta tell me what ya know about that corral out there…And Crowder."

*******

Larabee watched as moving stiffly, Standish crossed to the window.

"Maude was away on business." It was several long moments before the gambler began his tale. His arms folded across his chest as if hugging himself, his fingers massaging the muscles of his upper arms, Ezra continued to stare out the window.

"How old were you?"

"Six...maybe seven." Standish shrugged. "I was stayin' with a cousin." He rolled his eyes. It didn't matter where they were in the country, Maude always seemed to come up with a relative for him to stay with when he wasn't needed for a job. "Will was the overseer of a fancy plantation in South Carolina. Biggest place I'd ever seen at the time. Hell the overseer's house was as nice as McMurtry's. Cousin Mavis, his wife, was nice enough but Will was a...a bully. It made him perfect for the job. Havin’ control over people made him feel important so he bullied Mavis and the slaves and his assistants...everybody but the owner of course. Ya didn't do what he wanted exactly as he wanted and ya paid the price." He suppressed a shiver, remembering the few times Mavis had been unable to protect him from an unjust punishment.

Larabee simply nodded although Ezra had yet to look at him. He understood how hard it could be traveling backwards in time, seeing things not as an adult but as the child who had experienced the remembered events.

"It wasn't so bad there. Almost everyone was nice and being white I pretty much had run of the place except for the main house. Miss Lizzy ran the kitchen in the main house. She decided I needed fattening up and was constantly feeding me.” The woman’s memory brought a small smile to his somber features. The woman had treated him as if he was one of her own children. “Once my lessons and chores were finished I was allowed to play with the other children as long as Will wasn’t around." A small smile touched his lips. The slaves had accepted him without question. The smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "There was a corral like that at that plantation. I was exploring one day because Will was supervising the building of a new smokehouse, so I couldn’t play with the others…Will didn’t approve. It didn’t matter that he thought I was little more than trash, I was white and that meant I was better than the others. The corral stood in a little clearing in the woods at the edge of the fields. I’d never seen anything like it before and when I asked Mavis she told me I wasn’t ever to mention it to Will and I was never to go there again."

Larabee wanted to ask what it was used for but waited, understanding the con man needed to deal with the memories.

"I tried to ask Lizzy and some of the others about it but not even the children wanted to talk about it. The only thing Lizzy would say was it was best I stay away from such an evil place.” Ezra continued. “Approximately a month before Maude returned, things changed. Everybody was busy preparing for some extravagant party. It was said that guests were arriving from as far away as New York City. I've seen celebrations on other plantations, Mr. Larabee, and contrary to what many people believe they were usually enjoyed by everyone. While the guests ate, visited and danced at the main house the slaves did the same in their quarters. Everyone looked forward to the master giving a party but this celebration was...different." "How so?" Chris questioned after several moments of silence. "None of the slaves seemed to be looking forward to it. There was no happy chatter in the quarters of seeing friends or family who accompanied masters from other plantations, no planning of games or...everyone talked in whispers and seemed...f-fearful. Even Mavis appeared more anxious than normal."

Again there was several moments of silence. "Ezra?"

"On a southern plantation, because everyone usually travels a great distance to attend, most parties last several days, allowing everyone to visit and catch up on news. With each day of this celebration, the slaves grew more quiet and apprehensive.” Ezra shifted, taking a deep breath to steady his voice, as the memories became clearer. “Will was coming home drunk every night so Cousin Mavis would send me to my room before nightfall where I was to stay until he’d left the house the next morning. That in itself was strange as she usually sent me to stay with Lizzy in the slave’s quarters when he was drinking or out of sorts.”

Seeing the gambler’s dexterous fingers digging harder into the muscles of his upper arms, Larabee rose and led the gambler back to sit on the bed, taking up a position which blocked Ezra’s view of the window.

“The last day of the party, Cousin Mavis told me to stay in my room but it was hot that afternoon so I went out into the yard behind the house to practice my letters.” Ezra continued as if Larabee hadn’t interrupted his narrative. His voice, which had taken on a monotone, changed, becoming almost childlike, his cultured accent thickening. His emerald eyes held a faraway look and Larabee realized in his mind, the southerner was no longer in the small shack but back on that plantation. “It was so hot…weren’t even enough of a breeze ta move a flower petal. Suddenly Will was there…He made me go with ‘im. Said he was gonna teach me a lesson that would help me become a man. We went out to that corral…These two brothers, Joseph and Samuel, from the quarters, were standin’ in the middle a the corral. They were hard workers and always seemed happy. They used ta give us kids piggyback rides. All the men were there. They were drinkin’, laughin’ and makin’ bets and just havin’ a high ol’ time.”

“The men were bettin’ on which brother would win the boxin’ match?” Larabee surmised putting what Crowder had said with the story Standish was relating.

“Will, he kept sayin’ how this is what niggers was made fer. How they was put on this earth just for servin’ the needs of the white man. Their only purpose was for pleasin’ their master. They were animals to be used for work or amusement.” Once again it was as if Larabee hadn’t spoken. “I tried not ta watch but iffen I looked away or even closed my eyes Will would whollop me. Said it was time I stopped actin’ like a baby at its mama’s teat and started growin’ up.”

Trapped in his memories, the tears were running steadily down the con man’s cheeks and snatching the blanket from his own bed, Larabee wrapped it around the southerner as Ezra began to tremble uncontrollably. “It’s alright Ezra, ya don’t have ta-“

“They didn’t wanna fight…they were brothers…they loved each other! They didn’t wanna…but every time they stopped before they were told to, one a Will’s helpers would take the whip to em’. The men were all shoutin’ and cheerin’. There was blood everywhere and…the barbed wire’d rip into their skin iffen they fell against it. Seemed like they fought for hours and hours. Finally Samuel fell down and didn’t get back up. Joseph was cryin’ and kept beggin’ him ta get up but he didn’t…”

Larabee maneuvered him around, lifting his legs onto the bed so he was forced to lay down.

“Didn’t never get up again.” Ezra mumbled, curling into a ball, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Shhh…it’s over Ez…It’s all over.” Chris soothed. The gunslinger remained at the gambler’s side, his hand on the man’s shoulder until Standish relaxed and his breathing evened out in sleep. ‘I’m so sorry Ezra. I’m sorry you had to watch that as a child and I’m sorry I forced you to remember it.’

*******

Sipping his expensive brandy, Milford Crowder sat on the upper balcony enjoying the view as the sinking sun washed his valley in a golden hue and congratulated himself once again.

Born into the upper echelon of New York society, Milford was the only son and the youngest of three children. His sisters were both married and raising their own children by the time he was twelve.

While visiting his oldest sister, Winifred who had met and married a young man from Georgia, the young teen had fallen in love with what he perceived to be the southern way of life.

To Milford, plantation life was the epitome of perfection. The women were genteel and refined; the men intelligent and mannered. Most importantly they were rulers of their world. Everyone bowed to them. Their word was law and no one dared disobey.

Milford had never agreed with his parent’s philosophy that servants were to be thanked for their work or treated with respect. They had never understood the way of things; the hierarchy of life God had created. Animals were born to serve man, as labor, as transportation, as food, as companionship. Like cattle, chickens and other farm animals, servants were born to serve their superiors, to cook, clean up behind and service the baser needs of those whose lives were so much more vital than their own. In return they were housed, fed and clothed. They might learn to speak, to be taught to perform simple actions but they weren’t truly thinking beings with the intelligence to improve themselves.

Like his parents, Winifred and James had treated their slaves with decency and even respect, his brother-in-law stating that most northerners didn’t realize how much money was tied up in slave labor. There was food, clothing and shelter to provide as well as seeing they stayed healthy. The sick or injured, couldn’t do the work of a healthy slave, unhappy slaves caused discord among the others and it was an extra expenditure to replace dead ones.

Winifred and James hadn’t understood but many of the plantation owners he’d met on his visits had known the truth.

Few people seemed to understand the thrill of having the power of life and death over others. They didn’t understand the satisfaction that surged through a person at that moment of surrender when fear, submission and finally acceptance were clearly written on the slave’s face.

As the only son, Milford had inherited the majority of the family fortune when his parents passed away. Leaving others in charge of the businesses he’d taken part of his fortune and bought a plantation in South Carolina.

Over the years, he’d built the small plantation into one of the largest in the state, more than tripling his profits each year. It was his kingdom and everyone knew who was ruler.

As talk of the war became more pronounced and other plantations were struggling to survive Crowder had devised a plan that let his kingdom thrive.

There was a certain appearance that had to be maintained when you were a member of the elite so in New York he had led what his parents would have considered a double life. He had performed his duties in the family businesses, escorted the daughters of the richest families to the best society functions, attended the opera, ballet, literary readings and dinners with those families of his superior level. Those functions, while stimulating to the mind and filling the cultural needs were often less than exciting. Like other young men of his class he’d sought excitement in the never spoken about, darker side of society…cockfights, dogfights, bare knuckle boxing matches and sex shows between willing and even unwilling partners.

Milford had contacted several of his acquaintances from his old life and found people willing to pay a great deal of money for the privilege of visiting his home and participating in the entertainment his slaves provided.

When the war had erupted he had returned to New York and joined the fight. His comrades had believed he fought for the noble cause of freeing the slaves but like all his decisions this one had been strictly strategic. If the south won, he would return a hero, stating he’d been providing support and information to the south as a blockade runner or spy and resume his life. If on the other hand the north was the victor he would be allowed to retain his property for having fought on the winning side.

He returned to find his home destroyed, the buildings burned to the ground, the slaves gone and the south under the law of northern troops. Retrieving the valuables he’d hidden, Crowder rented the land out to sharecroppers and headed west, intent on finding a place where he could once again build his kingdom.

It hadn’t taken as long as he may have expected. There were soldiers, angry about losing their homes and way of life that had been willing to accept his money and the fringe benefits he offered. Men like Macklin had provided the needed labor.

Milford’s thoughts turned to the two men who would provide the main source of entertainment for his guests. He enjoyed a challenge and he’d certainly gotten his money’s worth from those two.

Both men had stronger wills then anticipated and appeared determined to protect each other, but as expected they’d thrown down the gauntlet with their refusal of Crowder’s generous offer and Milford looked forward to breaking what appeared to be such indomitable spirits.

The question was which man would he derive more pleasure from seeing reduced to the perfect slave.

He had considered Macklin’s suggestion that Standish be used for the Fox Hunt. The man had already proved to be tougher than he looked and from the slave trader’s description the southerner would be sure to give his guests a run they’d long remember but he might be put to better use pitted against his friend.

His guests would start arriving tomorrow but he still had several days before the boxing match to play and to decide which of the men would live and which would be destroyed with the realization he’d killed his friend.

*******

His heart racing, gasping for breath, Ezra’s eyes snapped open releasing him from the nightmare images, which had haunted his sleep.

“It’s alright Ezra.” Chris assured soothingly. “It was just a dream.”

His eyes adjusting to the darkness, the gambler’s gaze followed the sound, surprised to find the gunslinger leaning against the wall near the window, assuming much the same posture as Ezra had earlier.

Remembering his inability to control his emotions, feeling the redness heat his cheeks, Ezra was thankful for the darkness, which hid his embarrassment.

“What happened to Joseph?” The quiet question caught the con man by surprise. Unprepared, he couldn’t prevent the images which flashed before his eyes.

“Ezra?”

“He hung himself.”

Larabee nodded, continuing to stare out through the bars. “Get some sleep Ez.”

*******

“How far ahead ya think they are?” Buck questioned reining the big gray close to Vin’s horse. The men had mounted up with the first streaks of light on the horizon.

“Two, maybe three days, maybe more.” More than any of them, the Texan was feeling the frustration of the slow progress. He wanted to let Peso have his head, racing across the meadows and over the hills but he couldn’t take a chance on missing even the slightest sign of their friends. They were depending on him not to lose the trail. These men were depending on him to find their leader and their gambler. Chris and Ezra were depending on him. They were depending on these men to help them.

Tanner couldn’t ignore the guilt that riddled his soul. The evidence found at the campsite had only confirmed the fact Chris and Ezra were in trouble. He’d ignored the feeling eating away at him for days. He’d ignored the instincts telling him his friends needed help. He had resisted the urge to ride out after the Hoosier and Southerner. He had rationalized and waited…perhaps too long.

“Ain’t yer fault Vin.” Wilmington stated as if reading the younger man’s thoughts. “I’ve known Chris a lot a years. Know how he thinks. Half the time I know what he’s gonna do afore he does. I knew something was wrong but kept tellin myself they was just takin’ their sweet ol’ time.”

Seeing his own guilt mirrored in the womanizer’s deep blue eyes, Vin bit back the sarcastic retort that immediately came to mind when he thought Buck was only trying to make him feel better.

“Plenty a time ta kick our own asses after we bring ‘em home.”

Vin nodded turning his attention back to the job at hand.

*******

Wanting to put his fist through the wall, Larabee settled for hurling the metal cup across the small building, watching as the mug bounced several times before sliding to a stop in the corner.

He had to get them out of here!

He had to get them out or Ezra wouldn’t survive.

The past few mornings Goliath had arrived before dawn with one of Crowder’s overseers dragging Ezra from the cabin, working him harder than any of the other slaves, shoving him back inside well after dark, filthy and exhausted, his hands blistered and bloody, his body bruised and covered with welts. Chris had seen other evidence of the heavy-handed punishment doled out if the gambler slowed down or the boss wasn’t satisfied with whatever task Ezra had been assigned.

Each day Crowder had summoned Larabee to where Ezra was working. After several minutes of forcing the gunslinger to watch his friend toil under the hot sun, receiving little water to replace the moisture he was losing, being disciplined for real or imagined misconduct, the property owner repeated his proposal. Each night, Standish made Chris repeat his promise not to accept Crowder’s offer to save the con man.

Surprised now, when the door opened and flanked by Coty and Goliath, the property owner stepped into the cabin, Chris struggled to suppress his desire to strangle the life from the man. When Crowder was seated in the chair the slave carried, the man motioned for Larabee to take a seat on one of the bunks.

“As you may have noticed, Captain Larabee, my guests have started to arrive.” The man stated when the gunslinger stubbornly remained standing, leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

Each day, the gunslinger had watched from the window as small caravans of coaches and fancy surreys traveled the narrow road from the pass to the main house and listened to the music and laughter drifting on the night air from the gardens behind the house.

The Hoosier said nothing, a small smile touching his lips as he imagined himself aiming his gun, pulling the trigger and watching as the bullet shattered the mad man’s skull, splattering his brains against the wall.

“As I explained before they will be expecting the entertainment they’ve traveled so far and paid quite handsomely to enjoy.”

“Guess ya got yourself a dilemma.” Larabee shrugged. “Better give ‘em their money back then cause I have no intention of providing that entertainment.”

“Actually, Captain, there isn’t any dilemma.” Crowder smiled. “You see Sanders has agreed to provide the entertainment.”

Fear clutching at him as he searched for but was unable to discover the lie, Larabee’s hands clenched into fists. “And why the hell would he do that?”

“I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.” The man shrugged. “However, I’m going to allow you to make one final decision. Possibly the most important decision…You are going to choose his opponent for the match.”

“That’s easy…I choose you.” Larabee sneered. “Blind drunk and with his hands tied behind his back Ez’d kick your fat sorry ass without breakin’ a sweat.”

“Unfortunately for him…and you, I’m not one of the candidates.” An icy shiver raced down the gunslinger’s spine when the man’s smile widened and a satisfied glint lit his cold eyes. “I’m going to make this very simple for you, Captain.” He emphasized the title in an effort to further antagonize the gunslinger. “You have two opponents from which to choose. Yourself or…Goliath.”

With a poker face that would have made Ezra proud, Chris said nothing, meeting the other man’s steady gaze.

“Now personally, I don’t think he stands a chance in hell against either of you no matter how much grit you seem to think he has,” Crowder chuckled as if the very idea was amusing. “However I think he would have a much better chance,..not of surviving or course,…but at least lasting a few moments longer with you than with Goliath here. He’s a champion as evidenced by the fact he’s still alive.”

“So if you think he’s such a poor choice for your entertainment, why make him an offer he couldn’t refuse?”

“Actually he surprised me. I didn’t really expect him to accept.” Crowder admitted. “As you are well aware, gamblers and con men are usually cowards, notorious for looking out for themselves first and foremost. However being a man of my word, since he did accept, I’m honor bound to hold to my end of the bargain.” He leaned back in the chair with a smile, knowing he had completely trapped the gunslinger. “Now Captain Larabee. I need your decision…Who will be Sanders’ opponent?”

Backed into a corner, Chris made a last ditch effort to save the gambler. “His name isn’t Sanders. It’s Standish. Ezra Standish.” Did the man remember the little boy who had lived on his plantation waiting for his mother to want him with her again? Would the thought of that small child have any effect at all on this maniac?

“I assumed since he lied about your name he was also lying about his own but that’s really of no consequence.”

"I was just wondering if your house guests were aware they may one day end up being the entertainment.” Larabee snorted. “I mean since Ezra spent a few months at your home in South Carolina and now he’s part of the show it seems likely some of your current guests may someday find themselves inside your corral.”

“What an interesting concept.” Crowder seemed to give the idea serious consideration. “Perhaps some of them might wish to participate in a variation of the sport, for a price of course.” His expression hardened. “Make your decision, Captain, or I’ll assume you choose Goliath.”

The property owner pushed to his feet and crossed to the door when Larabee remained silent. “Very well, Goliath it is.”

“Me.” Chris conceded. “I choose me.”

“Don’t worry Captain,” Crowder smiled victoriously. “I’ll see that his real name is placed on the headstone.”

*******

“Why in the hell would you do somethin’ so stupid?” Chris ranted as he eased Ezra onto the bed, trying to ignore the gambler’s grimace of pain. “Why in the hell would you accept that asshole’s offer?”

“Because, Mr. Larabee,” Ezra shifted into a more comfortable position. “It was better than the alternative.”

“Better than the alternative?” Larabee sneered. “The alternative is finding a way the hell outta here.”

“I agree but unfortunately that’s not the alternative I was given.” Standish sighed wearily.

“So what was the alternative?…Ezra?…Damnit Standish answer me!” Realizing the gambler was asleep, Larabee released a portion of his anger with a kick to the leg of his own cot before sinking onto the bed cursing Crowder, Ezra and the pain surging through his bare foot.

*******

Tanner entered the nearly empty saloon, accepting the whiskey Josiah pushed toward him as he sank into a chair. He didn’t have to ask to know the others had had no more luck questioning the townspeople than he had.

“Yates, owner of the livery, is gonna take care of Chaucer till we get back.” Vin sighed. Ezra’s horse had been found wandering in a meadow the previous day. The chestnut gelding had almost appeared happy to see the five men from Four Corners. Knowing how the southerner felt about his equine companion, they had taken time to remove the saddle and replaced the bridle with a halter while Vin prepared and applied a salve to the sores left from wearing the tack so long.

“Ordered ya some steak and eggs.” Nathan stated. “Reckoned we might as well eat before we head out again.”

“Shoulda tried back trackin’ Chaucer.”

Wilmington slammed his mug against the table top, angry at the self-disgust in Tanner’s voice. “Bullshit! Vin, ya did what ya thought best and ya was right. We coulda ended up followin’ his trail all over hell and not been an inch closer ta findin’ ‘em. We’re this close cause of your skills. At least we know we’re headed in the right direction. Ain’t none of the rest of us coulda tracked ‘em this far.” He forced a smile of thanks as the barmaid delivered their lunch, turning his attention to the tracker when she retreated to the kitchen. “Hell, we all thought they were dead and buried back at that campsite!”

“Brother Buck’s right.” Josiah placed a large hand on the tracker’s shoulder. “It would have been a mistake not to check out the town when we were this close.”

“Lotta good it did.” Vin snorted.

“Beg pardon.” Food was forgotten as their attention was directed to the young man who approached the table, removing his hat. “You fellas wouldn’t be from Four Corners would ya?”

Dunne nodded. “We’re the peacekeepers there.”

The boy nervously twisted the hat in his hands. “Heard ya talkin’. Been sittin’ over there,” he nodded to a nearby table, “tryin’ ta work up the nerve ta talk to ya.”

“We know you?” Nathan queried, trying to remember if he’d ever seen the boy before.

“No sir, but…I reckon yer searchin’ fer yer family…” He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “I…I reckon I might know where they are .”

*******

Just as he had since the guests had begun arriving, Ezra tried to ignore the sounds drifting on the late night air not wanting the images, of what was causing the moans, shouts and crying, filling his mind.

“Thank you, Miz Sadie. I appreciate all the care I’ve received from you and Po.” He forced a smile as the sad eyed woman finished re-bandaging his hands.

“Wished I could say it was my pleasure, Mr. Ezra, but knowin’ why the master wants ya cared for…”

“It’s alright. It was my choice.” He brushed his fingertips across her cheek, wiping away a tear. “I’m doin’ the right thing.” He whispered.

“So what was the alternative, Ezra?” Chris persisted hoping the gambler would finally provide an answer to the question he’d been asking since the southerner had returned to the small building. A question Ezra had continually evaded or outright ignored.

“I would say, Mr. Larabee, our main objective is to get the hell outta here.”

“I know what our main objective is,” the gunslinger growled. “What I asked was, what was the alternative to your fightin’ in that corral out there.”

“Miz Sadie, if we ever get outta here you have to promise ta teach a friend of ours how to make coffee.” Ezra smiled. “Mr. Tanner could definitely learn from you. This is absolutely delicious.”

The woman dropped her sorrowful gaze to the floor not wanting to promise something she was certain would never happen, yet not wanting to deny what she was equally certain was the young man’s last request.

“Ya run along now. We’ll be fine for the night,” the gambler assured the woman. “I’m sure there’s others who’ll need your help more than we do.”

“What the hell is goin’ on out there?” Larabee moved to the window when the guard slammed the bolt on the door into place behind the old woman.

“You really don’t want to know, Mr. Larabee.”

“What I want to know is what alternative Crowder offered ya but since ya don’t seem ta wanna answer that question, ya can answer this one.”

“From what I understand,” Ezra stated with disgust. “The rather large building a few yards away is where Crowder’s guests can satisfy their more perverse sexual desires.”

“Damn!”

It didn’t surprise Larabee the gambler had seemed to have learned more than a little about Crowder’s self declared empire and the events planned for his guests. The con man had a way of wheedling information out of people without them even knowing he’d asked anything.

“So what else have ya found out?”

“There are fifteen guards, six of whom take the night shift, two at the entrance to the valley and four riding patrol over the property.” The southerner responded, hoping to keep them from the sick dreams that were sure to haunt their small amount of sleep. “They usually aren’t here for more than a few days but when they are, Macklin’s men help out as well, although they more often than not just take advantage of Crowder’s hospitality.”

Chris shrugged. “Odds aren’t bad.”

“They are when the opposition is heavily armed and you aren’t,” the gambler pointed out.

“We will be. Once we get past that fool on the door,” the Hoosier mimicked Ezra’s smug grin. “And we have tonight and tomorrow to figure out how to do that. Odds were worse at the Seminole Village.”

“In that somewhat foolhardy cause we had five friends helping and those noble people were willing to fight for their freedom.” The con man expounded his point. “Unfortunately, in this situation the people are too frightened of the repercussions for failing to assist.”

“See, now that’s what I don’t understand.” Larabee paced the room. “There doesn’t seem to be enough guards for the amount of land and people to be watched, especially at night with the cover of darkness, so takin’ over shouldn’t be that difficult.“

“That was my thought.” The con man stifled a groan from still sore muscles as he shifted positions. “However, it seems Mr. Crowder has a special punishment for those foolish enough to attempt escape. Evidently, the thought of suffering the punishment is even more horrendous than staying alive as a slave.”

“Can’t imagine what would be worse than what they’re goin’ through right now.”

“I couldn’t either until…” A shiver racked the gambler’s body remembering what had been described.

“Was that the alternative Ezra?” Chris pushed. “Fight or face that punishment?”

The southerner lay back on the bed and draped an arm over his eyes. “I think we should concentrate on a means of escape, Mr. Larabee.”

“True, but in case we don’t get outta here before that, I still have no intention of fightin ya.”

“Not something ya need ta worry about.” Ezra sighed. “However, I would request that you please stay away from the window. I don’t need another witness to what is more than likely to be my humiliating defeat…Although I do plan to cheat.” His dimples flashed with his sardonic grin. “I’m sure you would agree Goliath is a most formidable opponent.”

“Well, that’s not something you need to worry about. He’s not your opponent…I am.”

“No!” Ezra bolted upright. “Damnit! That wasn’t the deal!”

“What was the deal?”

Ignoring both the gunslinger and the pain in his hands, the con man banged on the door. “You out there! I wanna see Crowder! Tell that slimy sonuvabitch I wanna see him immediately! I wanna talk to Crowder now!”

He continued to furiously pound on the door shouting for the property owner until his throat was raw and Larabee forcefully pulled him from the wooden barrier.

“My apologies Mr. Larabee.” Ezra pushed the lank, sweaty, hair from his eyes and turned to face the gunslinger when he finally had his emotions under control. “I shouldn’t have…“

“Made the agreement in the first place?” The blond’s eyebrows arched in amusement. “Ignored me and answered my question?”

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper. A gentleman controls himself at all times.” The con man quoted what Larabee was sure was one of Maude’s lessons.

“Well, guess neither one of us can claim to be a gentleman all the time.” Larabee grinned, surprised when he didn’t receive a sarcastic retort to the comment. Growing serious, the gunslinger took a seat beside the gambler. Leaning his forearms on his thighs, he locked his fingers together trying to collect his thoughts so what he wanted to say didn’t sound patronizing. “You told Sadie steppin’ into that corral was your choice. Well this was mine. I…”

“There shouldn’t have been a choice!”

“Oh so you’re the only one who gets choices? The rest of us are just supposed to sit back and react to whatever happens.”

“There shouldn’t have been a choice for you to make!” Ezra locked his emerald eyed gaze on the dirty floorboards. “I’m sorry Chris. I thought I had a solution that would…” -“

“Got nothin’ to apologize for Ezra. He may have manipulated us both into that corral but he sure as hell can’t make me fight ya.”

“Did you listen ta what I told ya about Samuel and Joseph? He…“

“He can use that damn whip but if I’m ever gonna kick your ass, it’s because ya done pissed me off with that smart mouth of yours and not so some piss ant little dictator can get his rocks off.”

“And what makes ya think you would be able to, as you so succinctly put it, kick my ass.” The gambler smiled.

“Because a gentleman controls himself at all times.” Chris chuckled. “And I ain’t never claimed to be a gentleman. Now I think you should get some rest and we both need ta concentrate on findin’ a way outta this mess.”

“Chris, might I beg a favor?” The southerner softly requested as the gunslinger turned down the lantern and settled on his cot.

“Don’t have ta beg. Just have ta ask.”

“Promise me ya won’t blame yourself…no matter what happens.”

*******

Ezra paced the small cabin, purposely avoiding the barred window. He didn’t want to see the corral. He didn’t want to think about what had happened or what would soon happen in that arena of death. A few hours before dawn, guards had entered with orders to move the gunslinger to a different location in what Standish could only surmise was Crowder’s attempt to keep the two men from making any type of plan.

The gambler had to admit he was a bit surprised to discover it was not only fear, but loneliness which plagued him.

He wasn’t foolish enough to try and convince himself he wasn’t afraid of stepping into that corral the following day. He was afraid! In fact he was downright terrified. He was terrified of being forced to face his friend in that barbwire encased corral, for he had long ago admitted to himself, he had come to consider Larabee and the other men as friends. Any sane man feared death, at least a senseless death but he was more afraid of what would happen afterwards.

Ezra was certain he was going to die the next day because he had no intention of engaging in battle against Larabee. Since meeting the gunslinger there had been more than one occasion when he’d wanted nothing more than to use his fists to earn a modicum of respect from the Hoosier but not this way. Not for the entertainment of some sick little wanna-be emperor and his paying subjects. Standish was determined not to raise a hand against the man who had given him more chances than he probably deserved.

What happened to him was of little consequence but what he feared most was the impact being forced to kill the gambler would have on the Hoosier.

Standish had long ago learned that the death of another affected a man. Being the instrument of that death, no matter how despicable the human being, ripped a piece from a man’s soul. How was Chris supposed to deal with causing the death of a comrade? While Larabee might not consider the gambler a friend, he had never killed without reason and never had he killed for sport. That fact alone would shatter the blonde’s slowly healing heart.

The southerner had passed several long hours berating himself for missing the opportunity to keep the gunslinger out of the corral as he had intended. He’d replayed his conversation with Crowder in his mind time and again and realized when he’d agreed to the fight he hadn’t removed the option of Chris being given the opportunity to choose to be his opponent. It was a stupid mistake that would cost him his life and destroy one of the most honorable men he’d ever met.

Ezra feared but had accepted he would never see his other five friends again. Having spent most of his life alone, keeping people at arm’s length to avoid complications caused by friendship, he had come to rely on the companionship provided by his fellow peacekeepers.

Due to the distinct and diverse personalities of those six strong men, his life had changed immensely since entering Four Corners. He had found friendship. He had discovered six men who may not trust him, but would unfailingly watch his back. He had found himself increasingly forgetting the lessons his mother had instilled all his life. He had found himself voluntarily becoming involved in situations he would have otherwise avoided. As time passed he had discovered himself caring about the residents of Four Corners and to his own amazement and his mother’s mortification had found himself wanting to belong. If, the others ever discovered what had happened to their missing comrades, when, he automatically corrected himself, certain only death would keep them from the answers they sought, Ezra was determined not to be remembered as the disgraceful coward they’d always considered him. He especially wanted Chris to remember him as a man of his word.

His thoughts turned to the beautiful woman who had claimed his heart, knowing he would never see Nica again, never hear her laughter or hold her in his arms. He would never have the chance to tell her how much she had come to mean to him. He could only hope Nica knew how much he loved her. He prayed she would move on with her life and find the happiness she deserved.

Ezra’s emerald gaze drifted to the empty cot next to his. He hadn’t realized how comforted he had been just by Larabee’s very presence. Intellectually the con man knew escape wasn’t likely. Intellectually, he knew their chances of survival were almost non-existent, he was after all a gambler and had spent most of his life calculating and playing the odds. However, deep in his soul he had stubbornly held onto hope.

The cynical southerner had held onto the hope they would find a way out of the hell that had become their lives. He had let Larabee convince him they would get out. Having Chris with him had given Ezra the extra strength needed to endure and allowed him to hold onto the minute hope escape was possible or rescue could come riding through the mountain pass in the form of their five friends.

Now that strong presence, that comfort, was gone and he was once again left alone to face his fate…and his fears.

*******

Shirtless and shoeless, his back straight and his head high, Ezra stood in front of the shack, using every ounce of willpower to block out the sights and sounds of the spectators as they filed past, examining the southerner in order to better determine how to bet.

It had surprised him how many women were among the would be audience and if the circumstances had been different he might have been flattered by their comments…a might shocked…but flattered.

He couldn’t help but wonder how Larabee was handling being put through the same humiliation. It wasn’t as if the gunslinger sought out attention and neither of them were accustomed to being put on display like a piece of merchandise in Mrs. Potter’s front window. Ezra found amusement imagining the glares, growls and threats the men and women were receiving from Chris. Threats the Hoosier would gladly follow through on if given the opportunity.

“Hmmm, delicious.” A redheaded woman, flirtatiously spinning the frilly parasol, which protected her pale skin from the hot sun, ran her fingertips down Ezra’s hard chest, slowly licking her lips with the tip of her tongue. “He should have been starring in the auction each night. Bids would have been absolutely outrageous.”

“Perhaps I’ll see if Charles can find another like him for us. One he would be willing to sell.” The man Ezra assumed was her husband merely gave her an indulgent smile as he circled the gambler, examining him more closely. “Nicely developed muscles. Underlying strength and determination.”

“There’s none of the anger or hatred displayed by his opponent.” another man noted. “Without that he doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Hell, that doesn’t necessarily matter.” yet another voice joined the discussion. “The behemoth that usually competes is a simple minded animal without any emotions whatsoever and he’s undefeated.”

“As you just pointed out he’s an animal.” the second man commented. “He acts completely on instinct and his size works to his advantage. Accordin’ to Crowder, these two used to be friends. That in itself makes a difference.”

The debate continued as the spectators moved off to make their bets and take their seats.

Ezra calculated the odds of reaching Crowder and breaking his neck before the guards were able to kill him. They definitely weren’t in his favor. He would have that moment when, taken by surprise, the men would hesitate to pull the trigger and that might give him a slight advantage. He would still die but he’d take the property owner with him and perhaps give Chris and the others a chance at survival and freedom.

Certain Larabee was considering the exact same thing, the southerner knew if able he would have to be the first to act.

*******

Standing in the middle of the corral, Standish unobtrusively let his gaze wander over the people, looking for Crowder and committing to memory the position of each guard.

Macklin sat among the audience, while Coty and Ed guarded the stairs leading to the raised platform where Crowder sat overlooking the corral and spectators, like the emperor he imagined himself to be. So much for either man reaching the property owner before they were killed.

Cheers of excited anticipation filled the air and Ezra turned his gaze toward the gate where the shackled gunslinger fought the guards’ hold as they pushed him into the corral.

“Get your hands off ‘im!” Standish rushed forward as the three men tumbled to the ground in a twisted tangle of arms and legs, halting only when the man on the gate aimed his rifle at the gambler’s chest.

Stepping inside, the guard swung the rifle butt, clipping the back of Larabee’s head and stunning the man long enough for the other two to remove the wrist shackles and exit the arena.

“Chris!” Moving to help the Hoosier to his feet, Ezra was shocked when a hard right cross connected with his jaw, followed by a left hook. Quickly regaining his feet, the cardsharp backed away from the gunman.

“Chris?” His heart pounding wildly, fear raced through the gambler’s veins as he realized he saw no sign of recognition in the hard hazel eyes that met his, only hate and rage. A rage he hadn’t seen since the day the Hoosier had faced the man who’d been paid to kill the shootist’s family. He wasn’t sure what had happened but he was certain, the Chris Larabee he knew and admired didn’t now exist. Ezra didn’t have to see Crowder to know the man was smiling gleefully at what he considered his victory over the two men.

“Told ya before Crowder, I won’t fight ‘im!” Ezra called out, backing away from the gunslinger who advanced on the retreating gambler. “I may die but you and your guests lose.”

*******

Receiving the signal that Josiah had taken out the guard on the other side of the pass, Tanner pulled the spyglass from his saddlebags and surveyed the hills before turning his attention to the valley below.

“Couple men with rifles near the main house. At least three more back near them shacks.” he reported, talking more to the ladies’ man at his side than the Army officer who had joined them.

“We’re gonna need help.” Wilmington stated matter of factly when the peacekeepers had listened to the young man’s story and were convinced it was Chris and Ezra he was describing. “If that pass is the only way in, even if we take out the guards we lose the element of surprise. We don’t know how many we’re up against so we’re gonna need a large show of force. Somethin’ hopefully, the others’ll think twice about taken on.”

“I can take ya there but I don’t know if you’ll get any help from the town. Don’t know if he’s even ever been there.” Rudy had explained how shortly after arriving at their destination, Macklin had sent him to town for supplies with Ed and some of the owner’s hired help. Following Ezra’s advice and taking advantage of the men’s visit to the saloon the boy had ridden out for parts unknown, traveling in the general direction of Four Corners.

Thanks to a telegraph sent to Judge Travis, a small contingency of troops from Fort Tackett had been waiting for the peacekeepers when they arrived in Jeffersonville.

“We could wait till nightfall and use the dark for cover.” The officer suggested as Nathan and Josiah rejoined them.

“From what Rudy was sayin’ I don’t think we got time ta wait.” Buck disagreed.

“It’s your call Mr. Tanner.” The officer stated, ready to concede to whatever the tracker deemed best.

“Seems most everyone’s gathered in one spot.” The tracker stated, trying to see what was holding the crowd’s attention. Common sense said the smart move was to follow the officer’s suggestion but every instinct he had was screaming nightfall would be too late; his friends needed them now. He’d ignored those instincts once and wouldn’t do it again. “We go now.”

“Sergeant Conners, take half the men and contain the area around the house and other buildings. The rest of you follow us.” Lt. Masterson ordered his men as Tanner mounted Peso, pulling his rifle from its scabbard. "We're goin' in as fast and quiet as possible. Be ready but don't fire unless fired upon."

Tanner dug his heels into Peso’s sides as soon as the horse reached the valley floor, veering in the direction of the gathered crowd, Wilmington at his side and the others right on his tail. The echoes of gunfire rang out in the distance but the frenzied crowd seemed unaware of their approach.

Vin saw one of the men on the platform call out before dropping to one knee and aiming his rifle in their direction. Firing as one, Wilmington and Tanner’s bullets found their target, causing screams from several women as his body fell into the crowd below the dias.

The battle was over quickly, most of the guards recognizing and surrendering to superior forces but to the peacekeepers attempting to help their friends it seemed like hours.

“What the hell! Chris!” Wilmington leapt from the saddle running for the corral as Larabee’s punches sent his opponent against the railing before collapsing in the dirt, his left arm tangled among the barb wire.

“Chris stop!” Buck yelled tackling the gunslinger as he moved in on the downed man placing vicious kicks to his ribs while he reached for a handful of hair. “Damnit Larabee stop!”

Sanchez joined the fray pulling the Hoosier against his massive chest and pinning his arms to his sides as Wilmington threw himself across the gunslinger’s legs.

“Sonuvabitch!” The ex-priest automatically released his hold when Larabee slammed the back of his head into Josiah’s face, blood spurting in all directions as the preacher’s nose broke with a sickening crack.

“Get the hell away from ‘im!” Tanner shoved aside a soldier who stepped toward the gunman with his rifle butt raised.

“Hold ‘im still!” Nathan ordered, digging into his medical bag.

“What the hell ya think we’re tryin’ ta do?” Wilmington grunted when Vin helped him pull Larabee back to the ground.

The healer struggled to hold a cloth over Larabee’s nose and mouth as, losing none of his rage, their friend continued to fight their hold, twisting his head away from the foul smelling rag.

“What the hell’s the matter with ‘im?” Buck gasped for air as the Ether did its job and the gunslinger finally lost consciousness.

“Don’t know but we need ta get ‘im someplace where we can check ‘im out.” Nathan pushed to his feet intending to help the man Chris had been beating. Their attention on the gunfighter no one had noticed the little woman who had slipped into the corral and now knelt at the man’s side.

“You hold on boy ya hear me? Po’ll be able ta help ya I know it.” She soothingly stroked the injured man’s hair. “Ya hear me Mr. Ezra? Don’t ya let the master win! He can’t win this time!…Not this time!”

“Ezra?” The healer’s heart seemed to stop beating and his stomach rolled sickeningly as he dropped to his knees, beside the motionless man, praying he’d heard wrong, but despite the injuries, one look verified the man’s identity.

Knowing if he was to help anyone, he had to focus solely on the job at hand, Nathan shut down his emotions. Just as he had during the war, he needed to block out everything around him and handle one problem at a time starting with the most urgent. He would deal with his fear and anxiety afterward.

*******

“How could he do that?” With nothing to keep him occupied, JD finally found a voice for his bewilderment as the peacekeepers anxiously waited for news regarding their gambler. No one answered, uncertain if the sheriff was talking about Crowder or Chris.

At Sadie’s insistence Ezra had been placed in Crowder’s bedroom and following Po’s suggestion, Larabee had been restrained in the room across the hall.

With Sadie and Po assisting Nathan, leaving Tanner to sit with Chris, Buck and Josiah had taken JD to help Masterson and his troops with the chaos brought about by their arrival, wanting to keep the younger man’s mind off what was happening in the main house.

Crowder and Macklin were under guard in one of the shacks while the guards who had survived were held in another of the outbuildings. Refusing to let them leave until he had determined exactly what had taken place on the valley property Masterson had confined the guests to their quarters.

They had all watched with sad eyes as urged by his men, the people who’d been enslaved had obediently but cautiously filed past the table hesitantly filling plates from the huge banquet which had been prepared for the guests.

Now hours later, gathered together again, they still waited.

“Gentlemen?”

Leaning in the open door of the room where Larabee slept, Wilmington shook his head answering the unasked question as Lt. Masterson joined the lawmen.

“According to the wire we received from Judge Travis, he should be arriving in a few days. In the meantime I intend to start questioning people tomorrow and would appreciate it if one of you could be there as well.” The officer stated. “These people have been through a lot and it might make it easier for them if they felt they weren’t alone. ”

“I’ll do it.” The preacher volunteered, staring out the hall window at the people milling about their dilapidated quarters. There were no smiles, no laughter, no rejoicing, only questioning looks and soft whispers. The ex-priest knew they couldn’t believe the nightmare was over.

Josiah, himself, was certain it would be a long time before he could sleep through the night without dreaming of the things he already knew happened here and it would be years before these victims’ memories began to diminish.

He thought his heart had stopped earlier when, after carefully untangling him from the barbwire, Nathan and Vin had finally eased the man onto his back and they all realized Ezra had been Chris’ victim. The ex-priest wondered if it would ever beat again until the healer had finally announced the gambler was still breathing and it had given a flip, reflecting his joy. He could only pray that small bit of joy wasn’t premature or short-lived.

He’d witnessed the gentleness with which a mammoth black man, following Sadie’s quiet orders, had carried the battered southerner to the main house, placing him in the owner’s huge bed as tenderly as if he were a small child. Without a word, the big man had hurried in and out of the bedroom, fetching water and other things the healers needed.

Everyone’s gaze turned to the bedroom as the door opened and the little woman silently motioned them inside. For a long moment, no one moved, terrified of what they would find on the other side of the door.

“I’ll sit with ‘im.” The officer offered, allowing Vin to accompany the other men.

With a nod of thanks, the tracker slowly crossed the hall, hesitating in the doorway. Behind him, the others waited, knowing that like themselves, Vin’s heart was pounding furiously, his legs didn’t want to move, his palms were sweaty and fear had turned his stomach into a knot the size of a boulder.

None of them could erase the image of their friend lying motionless in the dirt as cheered on by a rowdy crowd of strangers, a man he respected continued to beat and kick him. None of them could forget the terror that clutched them as they waited for Nathan’s proclamation their southerner still drew breath.

Tanner deeply inhaled, trying to calm his racing heart and, glancing at Wilmington as the big man gently squeezed his shoulder, stepped across the threshold.

The enormous room was as tidy as if it had been freshly scrubbed. There was no bloody rags on the floor, no blood on the sheets or blankets, clean bandages, medical instruments, salves and other supplies were neatly laid out on the table the owner had used for meals in his room, within easy access if needed.

Lying so still in the large ornate bed, Ezra looked small and fragile. His bruised face was discolored, swollen and misshapen making it difficult to recognize their southerner. A pristine white bandage circled his head covering the large gash near his hairline and matched the other bandages they knew protected the various injuries on his body.

His right arm was encased in splints and braced against his wrapped ribs. His left arm was completely wrapped in white bandages from his shoulder to his fingertips.

“Nathan?” The one word question from Sanchez startled everyone in the silent room.

“I don’t know.” The soft admission frightened them more than the sight of the battered southerner. Nathan was always truthful but if there was hope, more often then not he was always able to find some form of encouragement. “About the best thing I can say right now is thank God he doesn’t seem to be bleedin’ inside but we don’t know how much damage was done.”

The healer took a deep breath trying to rid himself of the helplessness that seemed to wash over him. It had been a long few hours as cuts had been stitched, plasters applied to prevent infection and salve rubbed into the bruises that covered Ezra’s body. Cracked or broken bones had been set and splinted, and teas and herbal potions had been forced down the unconscious man’s throat to help with pain and the inevitable fever that always seemed to accompany such intense injuries.

“This is what doesn’t make any sense.” Easing the blankets down to the gambler’s hips, the ex-slave gently unfolded the fingers of the gambler’s right hand. In contrast to the gunslinger’s bruised and bloody hands, the southerner’s seemed to be the only part of his body undamaged.

Looking away, Tanner sighed in despair. “He didn’t fight back.”

*******

“How could he do that?” Dunne questioned again. “Ezra’s his friend. How could he do this ta ‘im?”

“Reckon there’s some things y’all need ta hear.” The woman stated matter of factly.

*******

“How’d ya come ta be here Miz Sadie?” Wilmington asked the woman with the kind eyes and gentle touch.

“Was livin’ on a small plantation that was ‘bout played out by the time the war started. Master took Esau with ‘im when he left ta join the fightin’. He was only nine and thought I’d never see ‘im agin.”

“Esau?”

“My boy. Was borned without a voice but he was always right smart so the master was trainin’ ‘im ta be his man servant.”

Having served in the war everyone, but JD, understood officers from both sides, arrogant enough to think the conflict wouldn’t last more than a few months, often took servants with them. Someone to prepare or serve their meals, clean their quarters, care for their uniforms and generally let the man pretend at normalcy while their world disintegrated around them.

“Master was killed at Shiloh and Master Crowder-“

“He ain’t yer master!” Nathan growled angrily. “He don’t own ya! Can’t nobody own another person anymore. That’s what that damn war was all about.” Regret flooded over the ex-slave as the woman’s gaze dropped to the floor and he realized this woman had never really known true freedom. “Sorry Miz Sadie.”

She nodded an acceptance of his apology. “Thought my boy was dead and buried somewhere I never even heard of but Mas-Mr. Crowder he’d found my Esau. He had the doctor fix ‘im up and he protected ‘im. War’d been over ‘bout two years when he come through Virginie. Seemed like a right nice gentleman and reckoned I owed ‘im for takin’ care a my boy so’s we come with ‘im when he come west." As she trailed off, they all knew by the time Crowder had shown his true colors Sadie and her son were as trapped as everyone else. What had started as a sense of obligation and loyalty had changed to obey or be punished.

The sandwiches Sadie had had delivered to the bedroom sat untouched next to the second nearly empty pot of coffee on a small table in the corner as the men listened to the woman’s tale of Crowder’s empire. As she spoke all eyes constantly drifted to the motionless man in the bed or to the room across the hall where the another soldier sat with Larabee, ready to call the peacekeepers if the gunslinger so much as stirred in his sleep.

They listened as she described what she’d witnessed happening to their friends since Chris and Ezra’s arrival. Overseeing the running of the main house, there was very little which happened on the property Miz Sadie didn’t know about.

“You said they both refused to fight so how did they end up in that…that arena out there?” Masterson queried.

“Mr. Ezra finally made an agreement with Mas-Mr. Crowder.”

“What!” Nathan glanced at his patient. It was Ezra’s own fault he now lay fighting for his life? He would rather have taken a beating than subject himself to the work of a slave. “He agreed they would fight so he wouldn’t have ta do menial labor?”

“He did not agree to fight Mr. Chris.” Sadie quickly denied, wondering about the anger and disgust that flashed across the healer’s face when he looked at the southerner, whom he claimed was his friend.

“But he did agree ta fight?” The healer insisted.

“What kind of agreement did he make ma’am?” Josiah questioned before the ex-slave could alienate the woman who seemed to have taken the younger man into her heart.

“Ain’t my place ta say. Reckon that’s atween Mr. Ezra and Mr. Chris.”

“I still don’t understand how Chris could do that ta ‘im.” JD’s complexion was almost as pale as Ezra’s and he couldn’t quite keep the quiver from his voice. “Ezra’s his friend.”

“Wysoccan.”

The men seemed startled by the quiet voice, having forgotten the Asian man seated in a corner on the far side of the room.

“He was given Wysoccan.”

“Damn!”

“Vin?” Buck turned to the tracker. Only Tanner seemed to realize the implications of the answer to the young sheriff’s question.

“Some tribes give it ta a fella when it’s time he becomes a man. It makes ‘em crazier than a starvin’ mule in a patch a loco weed.” The tracker explained. “And meaner than a pack a rabid wolves. Hear it’s supposed ta last damn near a month and when it’s over they don’t member bein’ a little boy.”

“He was not given pure form.” the elderly man quickly explained. “It is weaker and mixed with other herbs. Will last only a day or two.”

“Please don’t be mad at Po.” Sadie begged, frightened of what they would do to her friend. “He was only tryin’ ta protect his granddaughter. Master would a sent her ta the barn iffen Po hadn’t obeyed.”

“We understand ma’am.” Sanchez assured her. No one wanted to ask what would have happened in the barn. “And we thank ya both for all the help ya gave our friends. Why don’t y’all get some rest? We can talk some more tomorrow. That includes you, Nathan. We’ll holler if you’re needed.”

*******

Buck looked up as Josiah stepped into the bedroom, concern immediately washing over him at the older man’s demeanor. Wilmington had seen that look before. It was the same expression Larabee had worn after burying Sarah and Adam. An empty, emotionless expression, as if he had shut down in order to deal with the reality of what needed to be done.

Like the others, Josiah had passed the long night sitting at the bedside of one or the other of their friends but for the last several hours, the ex-priest had been locked in the library with the army officer listening to the stories told by Crowder’s slaves.

As Sanchez stood for a long moment staring down at the unconscious con man, Wilmington rose and poured a tall glass half full with whiskey from a decanter on the dresser. He followed when the preacher stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the valley.

The womanizer waited until the big man’s white knuckled grip on the railing slowly began to relax before stepping forward and pressing the glass into Josiah’s hand.

*******

Vin pulled JD into the hall, softly asking him to have a meal and a bed prepared for the ex-priest.

Although they all watched over the youngest member of their group, it wasn’t as if JD was a child that needed protection from the harsh reality of the world. The boy had lost people he loved, he’d killed and faced his own death and the death of his friends since joining their band and had never failed to watch their backs in battle. Yet somehow Dunne still managed to hold onto some of his naiveté. He hadn’t yet grown hard and cynical, still seeing the goodness in most people and that outlook seemed to help the others hold onto their own humanity. Their youngest didn’t need to hear what Josiah would eventually reveal.

‘Hell,” Vin thought, “ain’t none of us old enough to hear what the preacher is gonna say.’

*******

Tilting his chair back and propping his feet on the railing, Wilmington waited. He’d refill Josiah’s glass and he’d wait as long as necessary. He’d wait for the words or he’d wait for the explosion but he would be there for this friend just as they would all be there for Chris and Ezra.

He was betting it would be the words rather than the explosion. Josiah wouldn’t add to the people’s fear or the nightmare they’d been living by going on a drunken rampage.

“It’s so beautiful here,” the ex-priest stated softly. “Looking out at the mountains, the lush green grass, the wildflowers…it gives you a glimpse of what heaven might look like.”

“That it does.” Buck agreed.

“How could man desecrate somethin’ so beautiful with such degradation, pain and sorrow?”

The womanizer remained silent knowing Josiah didn’t really expect an answer.

“There’s a graveyard in a clearing back in the woods. Most of the graves don’t even have markers and no one can say for sure the ones that do is the person’s actual name. He gave ‘em new names when he bought ‘em. Some of these people been here so long they aren’t even sure what their real name is anymore.”

“Noticed there aren’t any kids.” Buck remarked quietly.

“Didn’t want the complications…Thank the good Lord! Men and women were kept in different quarters. No physical contact allowed except in the barn.” The big man continued to stare at the view before him.

Buck listened as Sanchez repeated some of the tales he had heard that morning but, like the preacher, he concentrated on the beauty of the scenery before him hoping to avoid having the images of what he heard trapped in his mind.

“They’re free now Josiah.” Wilmington murmured softly, hoping to offer some measure of comfort. “They’ll never forget what happened here but they survived this hell and now they can go home to families who love and miss them. They can get a fresh start and hopefully build a good life. A life they deserve. Reckon maybe Travis can figure a way to use the bastard’s money ta help ‘em with that fresh start.”

Josiah nodded as tears filled his eyes and spilled over, running down his grizzled cheeks. “Perhaps.”

*******

“Nathan!” Vin poked his head in the door. “I think Chris is comin’ round!”

“Go. I will finish.” Sadie assured as she continued to rewrap Ezra’s left arm having just applied more of the herbal plaster. Leaving the gambler in her capable hands, the ex-slave hurried across the hall.

While Ezra hadn’t stirred at all, twice in the last two days, Larabee had awoken, struggling against the restraints that kept him tied to the bed and raging against the man who’d killed his family. Nathan hadn’t resorted to using the ether again, instead forcing the gunslinger to swallow the blend of herbs Po had mixed to help wash the Wysoccan from Larabee’s system more quickly.

Their stance appearing relaxed and casual, Vin’s white teeth nibbling at his lower lip and the rhythmic drumming of Buck’s fingertips against his belt were the only indications of their tension as the men nervously waited, ready to help if once more Chris violently returned to consciousness. The long chains of the wrist and ankle shackles attached to the bed, rattled softly, muffled by the bedclothes as Larabee stirred.

“Chris?…Chris, can ya hear me?” Nathan calmly questioned, glancing to where the Asian man was steadily preparing another portion of the needed remedy. “Come on Chris, look at me.”

The gunman’s eyelids fluttered open, accompanied by the harsh groan of someone suffering a massive hangover.

Bleary eyed, he blinked several times trying to focus on the blurry image before him. “N-Nate?”

“Yep.” Jackson grinned pleased by the one word that was little more than a croak. “Whoa! Not yet Chris.” He stated as Larabee’s eyes slid closed. “Need ya ta drink this for me.” Supporting the blond head, Nathan held a glass of water to Larabee’s lips, urging him to drink as much of the water as possible before replacing it with Po’s medicine.

“Na…” The shootist was asleep before he could finish the healer’s name.

*******

Larabee let his gaze roam the unfamiliar room, taking in the expensive furnishings and searching for any memory of how he came to be there or any hint of where there happened to be.

A small sense of ease settled over him as his gaze came to rest on the buck skin clad figure dozing in the bedside chair. “Vin?”

Startled by the gunslinger’s soft rasp, the tracker straightened, coming instantly awake. “Hey Pard!” He grinned, happy to see the shootist conscious and lucid. “Let me get Nate.” Stepping across the hall, Tanner motioned for the healer before hurrying back to Larabee’s bedside to find the gunman staring in confusion at the shackles encircling his wrists.

“It’s alright, we’ll get those off ya straight away.” Nathan assured him. “Just let me check ya out.” He examined Chris’ pupils, pleased to see they were no longer dilated by the drug before filling a large glass with water. “What’s your name?”

“Chris Larabee.” The blond rasped, thanking the healer for the cold water as the liquid eased his dry throat. "What’s goin’ on?”

“Do ya know where ya are?”

Had he suffered a head injury? These were the types of questions the healer usually posed when one of them had a concussion.

“Exactly?…No.” The gunslinger glanced around the room. “Ezra and I were ambushed by slave tra…Shit! Ezra!”

“Take it easy Chris. He’s in the other room.” Nathan guaranteed him. “Do ya know my name?”

“Nathan Jackson. He’s Vin Tanner. That’s Buck Wilmington and JD Dunne.” He nodded to the two men who now stood in the doorway. “And I wanna see Ezra. Now! Later ya can tell me why I’m chained ta the bed.”

“Grouchy as ever.” Buck chuckled. “Good ta see ya back ta normal Ol’ Dog.”

“Don’t know how ya got here but it’s good ta see y’all too.” Larabee nodded absently watching as, pulling the key from the nightstand drawer, with Nathan’s approval, Vin quickly removed the restraints.

Accepting their help, the gunslinger rose and moved on shaky legs toward the hall. Intent on reaching the gambler’s room he didn’t see JD step away or notice the talkative young sheriff had yet to say anything.

Larabee was thankful for the grip Tanner and Jackson had on him as his legs nearly gave way from shock at his first glance at the southerner. Sanchez immediately jumped to his feet, letting the two men ease the trembling Hoosier into the seat he vacated.

“Did I do this? Oh God! Please tell me I didn’t do this!” Chris pleaded. “I couldn’t a done this could I? I was supposed to be his opponent but…I…I…” Seemingly oblivious of the bandages wrapped around his own hands, he pressed a shaky palm to his forehead, as if able to pull the memory from his mind. “I can’t seem ta remember a damn thing after they separated the two of us.”

“Chris…“

“Oh hell. It was me wasn’t it? I did this to ‘im.” Despair washed over the Hoosier when no one rushed to verify he was under the wrong assumption.

Dunne dropped his gaze to the floor, surprised to find himself relieved by the sincere fear and regret he heard in the gunslinger’s plea. Despite Po’s admission of drugging Larabee, a tiny doubt had lingered in the young man’s mind, remembering all the times his hero had threatened the southerner. He had tried to tell himself, they were just that: empty threats. Threats caused by the Hoosier’s fear, worry or anger, over something Ezra had done, which most of the time, put his life at risk. However, he couldn’t ignore the fact Larabee had a temper and he and the gambler rarely saw eye to eye. While he didn’t want to believe it he’d been unable to stop himself from wondering if Chris hadn’t used this as an excuse.

“Chris…“ Wilmington tried again only to be interrupted by the gunslinger growling at them to leave him be.

Hoping Larabee would come to accept that, while he may have been the instrument used to injure Ezra, he wasn’t truly responsible, the men backed from the room, leaving him alone with his friend and his emotions.

*******

“Damnit Chris, ya need ta eat somethin’!” Nathan harangued as the gunslinger once again ignored the food tray.

For the past four days, Larabee had left the gambler’s bedside only when forced from the room so Ezra’s wounds could be cared for and bandages changed. The swelling had eased and the bruises were beginning to lighten around the edges but the gambler had yet to regain consciousness.

“Be a shame ta hurt Miz Sadie’s feelin’s after all the help she’s given us.” Tanner commented, hoping to guilt the gunslinger into taking nourishment. “And she sure seems ta have taken a shine ta you and Ez.”

“What the hell’s he doin’ here?” Larabee had growled when days earlier, Goliath followed Sadie into the room. “Stay the hell away from him!”

“I promise he ain’t gonna hurt Mr. Ezra.” Sadie placed herself between the two men as Chris staggered to his feet. “He’s here ta help. Need ta keep the bed clean for Mr. Ezra.”

“No offense lady but I remember the way he looked at Ez. Wasn’t nothin’ but pure hatred the first time he laid eyes on ‘im.”

“Reckon that’s true and I’m right shamed cause he judged Mr. Ezra harsh just cause he’s from the south. Always tried real hard ta teach ‘im different. But Esau’s-“

“Thought his name was Goliath.”

“That’s what Mr. Crowder called ‘im cause a his size. Esau’s his proper name and he’s a good boy…A good man.” The woman sighed wearily. “Always tried ta teach ‘im ta judge by how a person acts, not how they sound. Even back home, there were good masters who took care of their people and treated ‘em decent. My Esau, he only knew our master but he seen how Mr. Ezra worked aside us and treated all a us kindly and respectful like we was as good as ‘im.”

“Ya are!” Nathan declared adamantly. “Yer every bit as good as ‘im! Just cause he’s white don’t make ‘im better.”

“Don’t make ‘im no worse neither.” Sadie retorted giving the healer a scathing look.

Larabee watched as, receiving a quick nod from his mother, the big man carefully lifted the injured gambler, holding him as gently as he would a newborn babe, while Sadie quickly and efficiently changed the bed clothing.

Finishing, a smile had touched her lips as she hesitated in the doorway and glanced back at the con man. “He was right ya know.”

“’Bout what ma’am?” Tanner asked, not at all surprised by these people’s feelings for the charming southerner.

“He kept tellin’ us ta hold onta our hope. Said y’all would come or Mr. Chris would find a way ta get us out. If he didn’t believe every word he was sayin’ ya sure couldn’t a proved it by any a us. ‘Ppeared ta have absolute faith in y’all and he was right.”

The lawmen had exchanged surprised and embarrassed smiles and Larabee couldn’t help wondering when they had earned such trust from the cynical gambler? Or had he simply been conning Crowder’s slaves and perhaps himself as well?

“Why ain’t he wakin’ up?” The gunslinger’s worried gaze never left the motionless southerner now as he picked absently at the meal. Except for the confrontation with Goliath, those were the only words Larabee had spoken since first entering Ezra’s room.

“It’ll happen when he’s ready,” the healer repeated the response he’d given the previous five times Larabee had posed the question. Nathan had explained that for the first few days, he and Po, hoping to save Ezra some pain and keep him still, giving the bones time to start healing, had thought it best to continue trickling the sleeping medicine down the gambler’s throat several times a day. They had discontinued the potion and no longer used the Ether but the gambler had yet to respond.

In truth, Jackson had truly begun to fear the con man would never again regain consciousness. Despite their best efforts there were no indications the gambler was recovering but instead had developed a slight fever and appeared to be growing weaker.

They needed the gambler to awaken. In order to stave off fever and infections, regain strength and begin healing, his body needed more nourishment than the broth they were able to force him to swallow. For their own peace of mind they needed him to awaken, needed the certainty of the knowledge the stubborn southerner was fighting to live.

Seated on the other side of Ezra’s bed, Tanner unobtrusively watched both Nathan, as he moved about the room, doing busy work to keep himself and his mind occupied, and Larabee who sat watching the gambler for any sign of life, other than the slight rise and fall of his bandaged chest.

They all knew Jackson was more worried than he was letting on. They had known the man long enough to recognize the fear he wasn’t going to be able to save one of their family. Nate was exhausted, his patience was growing thin and if they were in Four Corners he would be searching through his treasured medical books for answers to the questions running through his mind.

Knowing it would be a waste of breath, no one had tried to convince Larabee, Ezra’s condition wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t ready to hear it. He wasn’t ready to believe circumstances had been beyond his control. Chris wasn’t a stupid man and Vin was certain he had reached the same conclusion they had: other than having blocked some of the blows Ezra hadn’t fought back.

No matter what anyone said, Larabee would carry this guilt with him the rest of his days. He would never be able to erase the image in his mind of seeing the gambler’s bruised and broken body lying so still in the large bed. They were a family, a family of misfits but a family just the same and Chris would never be able to forget or forgive himself that he had been the instrument of a family member’s injuries and possible death.

Vin’s azure eyes traveled to the man in the bed and fear rushed through him yet again. Fear that he would lose a member of his family. Fear that he would lose a friend. Fear of what that loss would do to the rest of his family. Fear of seeking out the con man only to remember he was buried in a beautiful valley that held nothing but pain, terror and sorrow. Fear of never again watching the gambler charm the occupants of his favorite poker table, confuse JD with his five dollar words or push Larabee to the edge of sanity with one of his arguments.

Fear of living with his own guilt.

It was an inevitable fact of life death would claim each of them They faced it each day. Whether it be by disease, an accident, in the prevention of a crime, someone from their past seeking revenge or preferably of old age, death always won in the end but not like this. Not at the hands of one of their own. Not because they hadn’t arrived in time to prevent such a horrendous act. Not because he, himself, had ignored his instincts.

Vin wanted to hold onto each member of his makeshift family for as long as possible. He wanted them to have the life and find the happiness they deserved. He wanted to see them all become the men they wanted and were destined to be.

Vin wanted to see JD and Casey happily married and raising their children. He wanted to see Josiah forgive himself for his supposed sins and delivering his sermons from the pulpit of the completed church. He wanted to see Buck find the love of his life and Nathan become a true doctor. He wanted to see Larabee at peace with himself and his past and he wanted to see the understanding in Ezra’s emerald eyes that they wanted him as part of their family and accepted him for who he was.

Tanner knew the gambler was a fighter and as obstinate as a Missouri mule. In his own way, Ezra fought against everything he wanted and for everything he wanted. He fought against letting the other six men into his life and fought to let them in. He fought against his desire to belong and fought to become one of their group. He fought against his own upbringing and yet fought against the changes he wanted to make in his life. There was no doubt in tracker’s mind that Ezra was fighting to live. Somehow, they had to help him win his battle.

Standish needed to know they were here for him. He needed to know they would do whatever necessary to help him.

There was no where they could touch him that might not cause Ezra pain but determined to give the gambler that knowledge, the tracker crossed to the small bookcase in the corner and pulled a volume from the shelf. It didn’t matter what he read, it was the sound of his voice that would reassure the southerner he wasn’t alone. Unlike other times he’d been hurt, caught in their own guilt and fear, everyone had remained silent as they sat with the injured cardsharp. Now he needed to know they were all there waiting for him.

A smile touched Josiah’s lips as the tracker softly began to read, hesitantly sounding out words that didn’t look familiar.

‘How appropriate. Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.’ Of the many books lining the shelves Tanner’s fingers had unerringly found one of Ezra’s favorites. Sanchez’s gaze drifted to the gunslinger in time to see a tear escape and trickle down Chris’ cheek and knew Larabee, too, was wondering if this was the last time Ezra would hear it.

The preacher didn’t offer to take over for the ex-bounty hunter who struggled with the old text. It had been Mary and Ezra who had encouraged Vin to learn to read the words he loved so much and if, as Larabee and he himself feared, this was the last time the gambler would hear the words, it seemed only fitting that he hear Tanner read them. He would continue with the story when Vin was too tired or his voice finally gave out.

Maybe it was time they tried talking to Chris. They needed to convince him none of this was really his fault. Josiah was certain, if Ezra didn’t survive, they would lose the gunslinger as well. Unless they could convince Chris he wasn’t to blame for the disaster, which would break each man’s heart, even if he continued to walk the earth, the Larabee they all knew and respected would cease to exist.

*******

“Hey fellas, Travis is comin’.” JD announced rising from where he sat with Buck on the balcony, each lost in their own thoughts as they listened to Vin read. Lt. Masters had sent two men into Jeffersonville to wait on the judge’s arrival with orders to escort him to the valley. The young sheriff automatically stepped toward the bed, where the gambler was propped up with pillows in an effort to keep his lungs clear, hesitating when he remembered he couldn’t offer Ezra the reassurance of a comforting touch. “Why ain’t he wakin’ up Nathan? Why ain’t he gettin’ any better?”

”How the hell should I know? What makes ya think I got all the answers? Do I look like God Almighty to you?” Jackson snapped whirling on the younger man, releasing his pent up frustration. “He was damn near beat ta death and…”

A deadly silence fell over the room as the words trailed off and everyone’s eyes immediately darted to Larabee whose own sorrowful gaze remained on the gambler. His colorless complexion and stiff posture were the only indications he had heard the healer.

“I’m…I’m so sorry! Chris! JD, I didn’t mean…”

Dunne merely nodded in understanding as Nathan searched for the words that would wipe away the hurtful declaration, knowing full well it was impossible.

“Get some sleep Nathan.” Chris ordered tonelessly. “The rest of ya, fill in Travis. Make sure ya tell ‘im everything and than get some rest.”

“Chris…“

“Nothin’ wrong with speakin’ the truth Nathan. Go on and get some rest. Ya can’t help Ezra if you’re asleep on your feet.”

“While we’re doin’ all this restin’, what are you gonna do besides sit there and brood?” Buck demanded to know.

“Mind your own damn business, Wilmington!”

“In case ya ain’t figured it out by now ya stubborn jackass, lookin’ after you and the rest of us idiots who tend ta trail after ya right inta hell and back is my business.” Tired of tiptoeing around his oldest friend, Wilmington charged ahead. “Ya just told us ta tell the judge everything that happened. Well I reckon it’s time you were told what happened.”

Certain the womanizer was the best person to handle the situation, Tanner sat back and waited. Chris and Buck had been friends for damn near more years than JD had been alive and their friendship had been tested in--and survived--the pits of hell. They would survive this too, but Vin would be there, willing to pick up the pieces and help the two patch the relationship together again.

“I don’t need you ta tell me a damn thing!”

“Course not cause the almighty Larabee knows it all. Ya have ta be right about everything cause if ya weren't then ya might not have a reason to sit there wallerin’ in self pity!”

Buck easily side-stepped, avoiding the punch Chris threw as the man lunged from the chair.

“What the hell do you know about it? You weren’t out there on that trail. You weren’t here!” Larabee angrily faced off with Wilmington, leaving everyone relieved he wasn’t wearing his gun. “You didn’t watch that bastard use the whip on Ezra, refuse ‘im water and work ‘im until he damn near dropped. Ya weren’t here when that stubborn streak finally broke and he agreed ta provide the entertainment for those sick sonuvabitchs who paid ta watch someone die!” His voice caught in his throat. “Ya didn’t see Ezra’s face when he saw that corral! Ya didn’t hear…”

“Yer right. We didn’t see any a those things. We weren’t forced to watch any of that like you were. We only know what we saw when we finally did get here and what we been told. More importantly we know you and we know Ez. We know ya didn’t have any more choice in what happened out there than he did.” Buck argued. “The real problem is you don’t know what happened out there and yer afraid of findin’ out. This wasn’t yer fault Chris!”

“Bullshit! I did that ta ‘im. No one else! It was me! I’m the one that damn near beat ‘im ta death!”

Nathan cringed at hearing his words repeated. “It wasn’t yer fault Chris! Ya didn’t bring ‘im here. Ya didn’t sell ‘im ta that sadistic bastard. Ya didn’t use the whip on ‘im or make ‘im agree ta fight.”

“I didn’t keep my word either.” Larabee dropped back into the chair, raking a trembling hand through his hair. “Didn’t keep my word.”

They waited hoping he was finally going to open up and praying he would listen and understand, only to watch in disappointment as he began withdrawing back into himself.

“’Scuse me.” Sadie slipped into the room and placed the clean bandages she carried on the table with the other supplies. She hesitated in the doorway before turning back to the peacekeepers. “Mr. Chris, can I talk ta ya?…Privately?”

Ushering the men out the door, Josiah silently prayed the woman would have better luck than they had.

“Yer friends are right Mr. Chris.” Closing the door, Sadie crossed and took a seat on the edge of the bed facing the gunslinger. “Ain’t none a this yer fault. The only person ta blame for any a this is Crowder. He’s the reason we’s all trapped here. He’s the reason for them that’s buried out in the graveyard. He’s the reason ya ended up in that corral and he’s the reason Mr. Ezra is layin’ here right now.” Struggling inwardly, it was a long moment before she appeared to reach a decision. “Did Mr. Ezra ever answer yer question ‘bout why?”

Larabee shook his head. “For someone who knows more words than a man runnin’ for president, he can be as closed mouthed as a stone statue when he don’t wanna talk about somethin’.”

“Know ya had no plans ta fight Mr. Ezra and iffen it wasn’t for the Wysoccan ya wouldn’t have but ya can’t prevent somethin’ ya don’t know about.” Reaching out, she gently took the Hoosier’s right hand and concentrated on unwrapping the bandage as she spoke, examining the healing cuts for any sign of infection as she explained about Crowder exploiting Po’s knowledge of herbs and the Asian man’s attempts to help those he was forced to harm. “My boy hates that corral. He knowed every time he stepped inside it someone was gonna die but he didn’t have no choice and neither did you.” Retying the bandage she rose and moved for the door. As if suddenly reaching a decision she turned back to the gunman and taking an initiative she wouldn’t have dared before, gently lifted his chin forcing him to meet her eyes. “Unlike you, Mr. Ezra had a choice and I reckon he believed his reason was worth the price he was gonna pay. Don’t ya dishonor ‘im by takin’ on blame that ain’t yours ta shoulder.”

*******

Continuing to read, Wilmington casually turned up the flame on the bedside lamp to give the gunslinger a better view of the face he studied as closely as a man searching for a diamond in a barrel of glass. Buck could read Chris as easily as the book he now held and knew only the gambler could answer the questions, which still filled Larabee’s mind.

His hazel eyes locked on Ezra’s battered face, Larabee was barely aware of the other five men gathered in the room. Buck had taken over reading the next section of the book, but Chris couldn’t honestly say he’d heard any part of the story.

In the two days since Sadie had confronted the gunslinger on Ezra’s behalf, it had taken every ounce of Larabee’s willpower to concentrate on conversations directed at him.

Understanding the use of the Wysoccan absolved him of any responsibility for the con man's injuries didn’t ease the many layers of guilt, which burdened the gunslinger nor did it answer his remaining questions.

Had Ezra given up? Is that why he wasn’t waking up?

Had he decided the pain inflicted by a friend, a friend who had stated some piss ant little dictator couldn’t make him fight, was more than he could endure?

Why hadn’t Ezra fought back? Chris hadn’t needed the witnesses to tell him that other than blocking the gunslinger’s fists, the gambler had done nothing to defend himself. He could see the evidence for himself.

Why had Ezra felt it necessary to live the nightmare he’d been forced to witness as a child? Had he once again been attempting to prove his loyalty?

The con man had his own peculiar code of honor and whether Standish believed it or not, Larabee had never questioned the gambler’s allegiance to the seven since he’d helped bring Mr. Potter’s murderer to justice. The gambler had ridden with them and stood beside them against odds that would have sent a lessor man running in the opposite direction.

While the others may have assumed Chris refused to allow him to guard the blood money found in the hotel room due to a lack of trust, the Hoosier had known Ezra’s focus would be on resisting Maude’s training instead of the job at hand. That, in itself, could have cost the gambler his life.

Larabee wasn’t sure what any of them had done to deserve such dedication from a man who’d been taught from birth to be loyal only to himself. However, he vowed to be a better friend to the stubborn gambler, who had spent his life searching for someone, beside himself, to trust.

Being an extremely private man, Larabee rarely questioned a person about their past but he had no doubt he knew the men who watched his back. As their friendships grew, families, travels, childhood adventures and misadventures had eventually come into conversation. While Ezra talked about cons he’d perpetrated or poker games he’d played, any other information had come from Maude and they all knew little of what she said could be believed.

They were all human and therefore curious but as far as he knew, JD had been the only one to ever voice the least bit of interest to the gambler regarding his past. Questions the con man had easily evaded and the others had discouraged. Unless he harmed someone else, a man’s business was his own and many men who came west with hopes of starting a new life changed their name, thereby leaving their past behind.

‘Shit no wonder yer so closed mouthed. Kinda hard to open up if ya think no one’s interested.’

The truth was, there were dozens of things Chris wanted to know about the enigmatic con man and if it took the rest of his life he would find a way to prove to the suspicious southerner he wasn’t being conned. He would do whatever necessary to convince the cynical cardsharp that he was just as wanted and just as trusted as any other member of Chris’ new family, but first he had to make the gambler want to wake up.

*******

“Never thought I’d hear myself say this but..it’s too damn quiet, Ez. I know how ya love ta hear yourself talk and we sure got a lot ta talk about.”

Leaning in the balcony doorway, staring out over the dark valley, Tanner resisted looking at the bed when Chris spoke, afraid the attention would stop the gunslinger.

“The fellas are all here, thanks ta Vin’s trackin’ and Rudy. Ya was right about that kid. He listened to ya and took off the first chance he got. I’m sure Buck’ll be real happy ta tell ya all about it when ya wake up. Ya know how he loves ta tell a good story. Don’t reckon he’ll have ta exaggerate too much on this one though.”

The small smile that touched his lips belied Wilmington’s pretence of dozing in the chair across the room.

“Reckon ya better wake up or you’re gonna hafta listen ta a whole bunch of his stories about what ya’ve missed…And ya know he loves to talk damn near as much as you. Travis is here. He came by ta see ya this mornin’. Said it didn’t seem right ya not spoutin’ your opinion on how he should handle the situation or at least makin’ some smart ass comment ‘bout how little we’re all gettin’ paid. He spent the last couple a days talkin’ ta the folks here and held the trial today.”

When called to testify against Crowder, Macklin and the others, Chris had been stunned to discover Travis had purposely set up court in the very corral where Ezra had sustained his injuries and countless others had lost their lives. The defendants had been forced to stand shackled in the middle of the fight arena while the former slaves filled the spectators seats and surrounded the corral silently waiting to see if their waking nightmare had indeed ended or if Crowder’s money would prevent justice. “Sure wish you’d seen it…but you’ll be glad ta know Crowder and Macklin are both gonna pay for what they’ve done.”

After listening to the testimony of Chris, Sadie, Po and several others, as well as Masterson and the other peacekeepers, Travis had given Crowder and the others an opportunity to defend themselves before pronouncing sentence.

“This is an extremely unusual trial. If we were back east or near a larger town, there would be a prosecutor and defense attorneys and a jury.” The judge announced from the stand where Crowder had previously sat like a emperor reigning over his kingdom, watching as Chris had beaten Ezra. “However, in this part of the country, we make do with what we have. I suppose I could have had the army escort you someplace where we could find all those elements but that would not only have been a great inconvenience to those I asked to testify but your victims deserve justice as swiftly as possible. Moreover they deserve to begin living the lives you stole. “Furthermore, there is no justifiable defense of your reprehensible actions and therefore I find you guilty of the crimes for which you stand accused.” There were several long moments of silence where Travis seemed to be lost in thought before he spoke again. “In my opinion you should all hang for the heinous crimes you have committed. You’ve stolen years of life from your victims and their families and directly or indirectly, caused the deaths of others. By law, I can impose that very sentence. However, I don’t believe watching you climb the steps of the gallows and breath your last will give these good people the justice they so richly deserve. I believe, for justice to truly be served they should know you are suffering as they have; laboring under the hot sun and answering to another person’s every whim. Therefore, I sentence each of you to spend the rest of your life at hard labor in Yuma Prison.” He slammed the gavel against the table next to the chair. “And I hope you all live a very long life.”

“I know why ya took Crowder’s deal Ezra, so ya might as well wake up cause we are gonna talk about it even if I have ta follow ya inta hell ta have my say.” Larabee’s growled threat wouldn’t have frightened JD much less someone who made a living reading people across a poker table.

Dunne shuddered, and his stomach churned again, remembering Sadie’s testimony.

After listening to the curt answers the defendants had deemed to provide when questioned, Travis once again called the woman before him certain she held the answers the peacekeepers’, especially Larabee, needed to hear. “Miss Sadie, as you have heard, it is the defendant’s testimony that Ezra Standish agreed to fight of his own volition. Do you know this to be the truth?”

“He agreed but I don’t reckon he felt there was anything else he could do.”

“And why is that?

“Ain’t my place ta say, Mr. Judge.” The old woman hedged, not wanting to reveal what she clearly perceived to be a personal matter.

“So you do know why Ezra agreed to the proposition placed before him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Miss Sadie, I appreciate your attempt to protect Mr. Standish’s privacy. If I were able I would be asking him these questions and being as this is, at the moment, a court of law he would have to answer.” Travis kept his tone gentle, not wanting her to feel as if she were being threatened, or that she was betraying the southerner. “You see Miss Sadie, unless I know his side of the story I have only Crowder’s testimony as to what transpired between the two of them and have to accept that as the truth.”

Sadie glanced around the arena, her gaze momentarily stopping on each of the gambler’s friends. She was a wise woman and understood what the judge had implied. Even if Travis could see to it that everyone else received justice, Crowder wouldn’t be punished for what he had done to the southerner.

Nathan shifted nervously, his own dark gaze dropping to stare at the dirt as they awaited her response and she thought again of his conflicting reactions regarding a man he claimed to be his friend. If Ezra never awoke would the healer mourn yet continue to believe the worst about the con man?

The anxiety in Larabee’s eyes tore at her heart. He wanted,--he needed,--to know why the gambler had made his decision but also feared what he would hear as much as he feared the southerner’s death.

Receiving a small nod from her son, Sadie made her decision. She needed to do this. She needed to do this for Mr. Chris and the others. She needed to do this so they would have a better understanding of the man they considered a friend. Most of all, she needed to do this for Mr. Ezra. He deserved justice just as much as everyone else.

“Ever so often someone would try and run but never could get far afore they was hunted down and brought back and gived ta Mr. Williams.”

“Who is Mr. Williams?” Travis questioned, not recognizing that name among those the Army had held for trial.

“One a the guards what got killed by the soldiers. Real handy with a knife.” A shudder raced through her body. “When they was brought back, we was all made ta watch each day while he…while he…he…” Sade inhaled deeply determined to continue before she lost her courage. “Skinned ‘em. Usually took ‘bout a week or more dependin’ on who it was and how much Williams was enjoyin’ hisself. Iffen they didn’t die afore he was finished, he poured oil on ‘em and set ‘em afire.”

His arms folded across his chest, Larabee stood tensely, his gaze locked on the distant horizon as she stated some of what Standish had refused to discuss. He understood that Sadie was explaining why the valley’s occupants had been so afraid to try and escape.

‘Can’t say as I blame ‘im.’ Larabee thought. Ezra was above all a gambler. He looked at every situation from every angle and calculated all the odds. ‘Know I’d rather take my chances in a fight than have no chance at all.’

“So is it your testimony that Crowder threatened Mr. Standish with such treatment unless he chose to fight?” Travis questioned after finally getting his own emotions under control.

“No sir, that ain’t why Mr. Ezra agreed.” Sadie shook her head avoiding looking at Larabee. Instead, her gaze purposely sought out the healer’s. “He said ‘less Mr. Ezra agreed ta his proposition, he’d give Mr. Chris over ta Williams and tell ‘im ta enjoy hisself for as long as possible.”

“Ya know Ez, I can understand why Joseph did what he did.” Larabee whispered sadly. “Can’t say I ain’t given it a lot a thought myself the last few days.”

“Chris, might I beg a favor?”

“Don’t have ta beg. Just have ta ask.”

“Promise me ya won’t blame yourself…no matter what happens.” The conversation had been running through the gunslinger’s mind for days. While he hadn’t actually given his word when Ezra had voiced his request, Larabee’s agreement had been implied beforehand, yet how could he keep such a promise? How could Ezra expect him to shake off any sense of responsibility as simply as if he were shaking raindrops off his coat?

‘Ya know, that self absorbed, give a damn only about yourself show ya try ta put on went out the window with that promise ya wanted. Cause how ya gonna play on someone’s guilt if ya make ‘em promise something like that.’ Larabee kept the thought to himself giving the con man the opportunity to keep up the pretence even though everyone now knew it to be nothing more than another con the southerner was running.

“Ya’ve ‘bout worried poor Nathan inta a state of exhaustion Ezra.” Larabee reported. “Ya don’t wake up soon and ya just might find yourself sharin’ that bed…and not with a pretty woman.”

Buck snorted and Josiah hid his amusement at the comment behind his hand before noticing the healer appeared more troubled than ever. The preacher knew if possible Nathan had been even more stunned than Larabee by Sadie’s revelation. Realizing the gunslinger’s comment had done nothing to ease the guilt which seemed to be drowning his friend, the preacher crossed to where Nathan was huddled over an old medical journal he’d found in the library.

“Ya’ve done all ya can for him, my friend.” Sanchez softly stated, slowly closing the book.

“But…“

“It’s in God and Ezra’s hands now.”

“Y’all might wanna come take a look at this,” Tanner suggested, straightening and stopping any further protest from the healer.

One by one the peacekeepers followed Vin onto the balcony. Lights twinkled from the small flames of protected candles as people made their way across the manicured lawns, gathering beneath the windows of the room occupied by Standish.

“Ya hear that, Ezra?” Chris returned to Ezra’s side as voices were softly raised in spiritual hymns between prayers. “That’s for you. Ya oughta wake up cause it’s sure somethin’ ta see. I guess it’s only natural with all they been through, they’ve become family. Reckon this is their way a tellin’ ya they consider ya one of their own.”

Pretending not to see the other men smiling in appreciation and wiping at tear filled eyes as they watched the wonderous event happening beneath them, Tanner slipped back inside. The tracker was unable to choke back a chuckle when watching the gambler for any sign of consciousness, Chris tried a different and more sarcastic tactic.

“Ya know Standish, it might not be a heavenly choir but even so a truel gentleman would at least go to the window and acknowledge their efforts.”

*******

Ezra continued searching through the darkness sensing the end of his journey was near. For days, he’d been following the bits of conversation he could hear taking place in the distance. There were times when the voices had seemed to grow stronger giving him a purpose and sense of direction before fading away again but now it had grown silent and he was afraid if he didn’t continue onward he would lose the battle to the blackness that surrounded him.

*******

Lightly dozing in the comfortable chair beside the bed, Tanner’s long fingers slowly closed around the handle of his mare’s leg as he surveyed the room through blue eyes barely slit wide enough to let in the flickering light from the lamp’s small flame.

He wasn’t sure what had awakened him. It wasn’t a sound or movement since he’d long ago grown used to the noises of the other men in the room who had finally surrendered to their own exhaustion. Having spent many night camps with each of them individually or as a group, he could easily identify the nuance and pattern of each companion’s nightly routine, from Josiah’s loud drunken snore that could scare away a bear to Larabee’s restless stirrings when a nightmare began to take hold.

This was different. It was almost as if another presence had entered the room, yet he knew the door hadn’t opened.

A wide smile spread across his handsome face as comprehension settled over him.

“’Bout time ya decided ta join us Pard,” he stated softly, before turning to find the con man scanning the room with confused green eyes. Slipping an arm under the gambler’s shoulders he held the water glass to Standish’s lips letting the southerner drink his fill.

“Thank you.” Ezra seemed surprised to find his words barely audible. “C-Chris?”

“He’s fine. Fell asleep a couple hours ago.”

“T-too quiet.” The southerner shuddered, remembering the silence of the blackness he’d escaped.

“Funny but Chris was complainin’ ‘bout that same thing just a few hours ago.” Vin laughed, understanding the fear he saw flash in the emerald eyes. Ezra had fought hard to escape the uncertainty of unconsciousness and was afraid to return. Afraid he wouldn’t be able to break away again. Afraid if he returned to the void it would be for the last time.

About to wake the others, he looked down as Ezra weakly clutched his wrist to find the southerner shaking his head. “Let ‘em sl-sleep.”

“Sorry Pard but I ain’t ready ta die anymore than you are and they’d be sure ta use me for target practice iffen I didn’t wake ‘em up.” Standish needed to know they were all there for him to help keep the blackness at bay. He needed the certainty he could rest safely.

“Ya got that right Tanner!” Larabee growled stretching the muscles in his back as the other men surrounded the bed to welcome their southerner back as quickly as if they’d been awake and active for hours, everyone talking at once.

Silence momentarily reigned so Nathan could hear the gambler’s weak answers as he examined the southerner whose emerald eyes kept darting to the gunslinger yet avoiding meeting the hazel eyed stare.

“Okay fellas, we all got beds waitin’ on us that are a lot more comfortable than these chairs or the floor so why don’t we hit ‘em and let Ez get some rest.” Tanner suggested when Nathan was finished and the southerner had satisfied the healer by drinking another cup of laudanum laced medicine. “I’ll relieve ya in a couple hours.” He nodded to Larabee, knowing, for both men’s sake, the gunslinger needed to remain where he sat, before ushering the other men out the door as they assured Ezra they’d be back later.

Ignoring the pain of movement in order to relieve sore muscles, Ezra carefully shifted about seeking a more comfortable position while avoiding meeting Larabee’s intense gaze.

The gunslinger adjusted pillows, allowing the gambler to lay partially on his side without putting pressure on his ribs. “That better?”

“Thank you,” Ezra sighed, fighting to keep his eyes open as the medicine began to take effect.

“Ain’t you that should be doin’ the thankin’.” The regret and sorrow were evident in Chris’ soft statement. “I can’t tell ya-“

“S-seems the Calvary did indeed r-ride ta the rescue,” the southerner interrupted.

“Don’t know why you’re surprised, since ya kept tellin’ Sadie and the others that they would.” Chris was pleased to see the southerner blush even as he attempted to smother a yawn. “Ya can stop fightin’ now, Ez, and get the rest ya need. We’re all here ta watch your back…Even me.”

“Never…doubted…ya…” The southerner’s soft words drifted off as his eyes slid closed.

*******

“I’m ready ta go home.” Ezra declared sullenly, tossing back the blankets and attempting to rise from the bed, valiantly trying to make it appear a casual effort.

“Ya know we ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘till Nathan gives his okay and ya ain’t gonna get that okay iffen yer weak as a three day old kitten.” Vin easily shoved the gambler back against the pillows and replaced the blankets. “Sadie’ll be up with your breakfast shortly.” The woman had taken it upon herself to care for the southerner, cooking his meals, cleaning his room and helping Nathan change his bandages.

“I’m perfectly capable of eating a meal at the table like a civilized human being.” The gambler grumbled. “I don’t need to be served breakfast in bed like some…like I was a guest in Denver’s finest hotel.”

It was obvious to the ex-bounty hunter the southerner had changed what he had been about to say mid sentence.

“Know he don’t want ya tryin’ the stairs yet but reckon Nate couldn’t complain iffen ya sat at the table over there.” Vin hoped the compromise would appease the con man. Perhaps more than any of the others, he understood Ezra’s irritability. It was more than the fact both men abhorred losing their independence to any type of confinement.

The gambler didn’t mind paying for service at a fancy hotel where they fussed and rushed to meet his every want and whim because it was a matter of status. Yet, to Standish, being helped or waited on because of an injury or illness meant he was weak and a burden.

“That would be…appreciated.” Ezra smiled, relaxing slightly and letting the tracker assist him to his feet. Vin stayed close enough to help if needed but didn’t offer his aid as the southerner slowly moved to the table. “I sincerely hope Miss Sadie brings more of those excellent flapjacks than she provided yesterday”

Tanner wasn’t sure if Ezra’s appetite was truly improving; if he was simply forcing himself to eat to regain his strength or in an attempt to con everyone he was better than he truly felt.

One thing Vin knew for sure and no one had failed to notice was that in the few days since he’d awakened, the con man had appeared to censure himself instead of speaking his mind or making a witty comment as he normally would have. When unable to evade visitors he kept conversations light and avoided most talk about the valley and what had occurred.

He had been pleased to discover no charges were being brought against Rudy and listened, nodding his approval when Josiah had told him about Travis using Buck’s idea. “Everyone gets ta keep a horse and wagon or buggy ta help them get home. Everything else is bein’ sold off and the money split up among them to help ‘em start a new life.”

“Although he hasn’t been astute enough to pay us more money for our services, the judge is normally a wise man so it doesn’t surprise me that he would see the sensibility and fairness in Mr. Wilmington’s suggestion.”

The gambler seemed to have a plan for each man’s visit, easily directing the conversations with JD, steering the talk to Buck’s escapades with the ladies, getting Nathan excited about the herbal remedies he was learning from Po and discussing philosophy or literature with Josiah.

Knowing Tanner wouldn’t push, or perhaps sensing Vin wasn’t anymore ready to discuss the situation than he, himself, Ezra asked the tracker to continue reading Chaucer but more than any of the others Standish seemed to avoid Larabee. Sincerely concerned about the gunslinger’s welfare, he always politely questioned Chris about his health before discussing something inconsequential and claiming weariness after a scant few moments, appearing uncomfortable in the Hoosier’s presence.

The tracker couldn’t help chuckling when Ezra became the charming southern gentleman, flirting with Sadie, his compliments causing the older woman to blush effusively as she delivered the breakfast tray containing bacon, three pancakes, coffee and juice.

“Guess ya got yer wish Ezra. She brought ya an extra pancake today.” Vin grinned, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“I’m surprised she didn’t provide you with a plate as well.” The gambler smiled brightly hoping to divert the tracker’s keen attention from the trembling hand that poured a liberal amount of syrup on the small stack of flapjacks.

“Had my breakfast a couple three hours ago.”

“And since when has that ever prevented you from eating again?” Ezra teased.

“Sounds like a offer ta me.” Vin laughed quickly snatching a slice of bacon from the gambler’s plate. “Be an insult ta such a good cook and ta my host ta refuse.”

“I shall miss her magnificent cuisine once we’re on the trail but I’m ready to go home.” Standish gave the tracker a hopeful look. “Perhaps you could have a word with Mr. Jackson.”

Tanner ignored both the look and suggestion, taking a page from Ezra’s book and changing the subject. “Think if ya get some rest this afternoon, you’ll feel up ta playin’ a few hands a poker after dinner?”

“That would be a most pleasant diversion and perhaps we could discuss travel arrangements back ta Four Corners.”

“Ez…“

“I wanna go home” the southerner declared as petulantly as a four-year-old.

Vin inhaled deeply, certain Ezra was going to buck at his next suggestion. “Reckon ya might wanna talk ta Chris then, cause he’s about the only one Nate might listen to.”

“I don’t think you realize your own powers of persuasion, Vin.” Standish stated, giving the Texan a sly smile.

“Can’t avoid ‘im forever Ez.” Tanner sighed. “Don’t have no need to.”

“And just whom do you think I would be avoiding as if that were possible since I’m stuck in this room?” Ezra kept his eyes on the food he pushed around his plate, having lost his appetite.

“We both know I’m talkin’ ‘bout Chris. Ya do everything possible ta keep from really talkin’ ta him…Same as I been avoidin’ talkin’ ta you.”

The con man’s head jerked up at the tracker’s admission. “And just why would you feel the need to avoid talkin’ with me?”

“So I could put off as long as possible tellin’ ya how most of this is my fault.”

“Excuse me?” It was the last thing he’d expected the ex-bounty hunter to say. “How could any of this abominable situation possibly be your fault? If memory serves you weren’t even here.”

“Exactly!” Tanner’s anger at himself was apparent in his voice and expression. “Iffen I’d started lookin’ for ya as soon as I felt somethin’ wasn’t right, we mighta caught up with ya before ya ever reached this hellhole.”

“And that would have been unfortunate indeed.”

It was the Texan’s turn to stare in shock at his southern friend. More than once Nathan had warned them that head injuries could cause permanent damage and Tanner couldn’t help wondering if that was the case with Ezra. How could the gambler possibly consider what he had suffered as fortunate? How could he not blame the tracker for ignoring his instincts and leaving his friends to suffer at the hands of a lunatic?

“Don’t ya understand Ez? I knew in my gut somethin’ was wrong but I kept tellin’ myself the trial took longer then expected or ya’d run inta bad weather or even that ya might have convinced Chris ta stop at some fancy gamblin’ house."

"All of which were reasonable explanations." Standish agreed.

"But it weren’t none a those things! If I’d reacted earlier...”

“Mr. Tanner…Vin, please…” Ezra set the fork aside and rubbed his temples before taking a sip of coffee. The tightness around his eyes indicating the onset of another of the headaches he would continue to suffer until the concussion had completely healed. “It’s undeniable your finely honed instincts amaze us most of the time, which if not for your unfailing honesty would make you nearly as excellent a con man as myself. It is also undeniable that each of us implicitly trusts those instincts and remarkable skills of yours. You may think you should have reacted quicker but given the circumstances, as usual your timing was impeccable. Even with my extensive vocabulary there aren’t enough words to express the gratitude felt by everyone here.”

He smiled seeing the worry in the lean Texan’s blue eyes as his noticed the slight tremble of Ezra’s hand when the southerner raised his coffee cup to his lips.

“Don’t you see Vin, we all play the hand we’re dealt. While some of us may be able to manipulate the cards or use them to our advantage if needed, whether you consider it God, destiny or Lady Luck, to a certain degree, we still have to depend on a higher power. If you had reacted immediately, as you stated, we might never have reached this valley. Therefore, not only would all these people still be facing a life of enslavement, their families never knowing what happened to them but who knows how many others might have continued to fall prey to Macklin and his band. Because you looked for other explanations to our delayed return, the people here no longer have to live in fear. Their freedom was returned to them and the law saw to it that they received justice.”

It was a long moment before Tanner responded, giving considerable thought to what the gambler had said.

“So yer sayin’ it was meant ta be that we didn’t start lookin’ for y’all right away.”

“Exactly! Proving my belief you are much more intelligent than you lead people to believe.” Standish grinned, despite the relentlessly throbbing headache. “Which also means there is absolutely no foundation for your feelings of guilt.”

“So what’s the foundation for your feelin’s of guilt?”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” Ezra smoothly lied, pushing the half eaten plate of food aside and slowly rising to his feet.

“Easy there Pard.” Vin gently gripped Ezra’s bandaged arm when the southerner swayed unsteadily. “Reckon this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Let's get ya settled back in bed and I’ll fetch ya somethin’ for yer headache."

“That would be most appreciated but I won’t truly feel better until I’m home, sleepin’ in my own bed.”

“Damn Ez, sometimes ya can be as stubborn as a hungry dog with a bone.”

“That’s not a very flattering comparison Mr. Tanner,” the southerner mumbled settling deeper into the pillows with a painful sigh. “I much prefer to think of myself as being as tenacious as a certain Texan followin’ his friend’s trail.”

*******

Blinking groggily, Ezra lay staring up at the canopy, enjoying the light breeze that flowed over him and listening to the sounds of nature’s late afternoon serenade. In the distance he could hear what sounded like good natured teasing followed by easy laughter.

He was going home.

A dimpled smile graced his handsome face with that knowledge, widening as he thought again of the generosity and ingenuity of the freed valley residents.

Knowing Nathan’s biggest objection to taking Ezra back to Four Corners so soon was the gambler having to sit astride a horse or being bounced around in a buggy or wagon, Esau and several of the men had constructed his current mode of transportation.

In an attempt, to let the con man travel in relative comfort, a buckboard had been fitted with a frame and canvas tarp that could be rolled down against the weather but would be easier to help the injured man in and out of than a larger Conestoga. When the tarp was rolled up, light linen curtains could be closed against the hot sun and dust without stifling the airflow.

Someone had taken apart one of the mansion’s settees and fastened it to the back of the driver’s seat as a makeshift headboard, allowing the con man the comfortable support of a chair without taking up more room than necessary. The feather mattress and pillows from Crowder’s bed had been placed on top of a thick layer of fresh hay for further cushioning.

A second wagon followed, carrying the drivers’ saddles and gear, a water barrel and other supplies Sadie had thought they might need, including a cushioned chair so Ezra could sit with his friends around the evening campfire.

Ezra was certain the strange conveyance had received more than one curious look from passing travelers, in the few days the small caravan had been on the road.

The gambler’s green eyes twinkled merrily when the rear curtains barely moved and he caught a glimpse of dark hair as the youngest of their band peeked inside. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dunne.”

“Hey Ez! Didn’t wanna wake ya.” The young sheriff pulled the cloth aside, replacing his bowler hat. One of Nathan’s conditions had been that, if the healer thought they were needed, Ezra would continue his medications without argument. In truth Jackson only insisted when it became obvious the con man was in pain, knowing the herbs would help him sleep as the wagon traversed the often rough, rut filled road.

“I appreciate that. I take it we have stopped for the night.”

“Yeah camp’s set up. Vin and Buck went huntin’. Chris is settin’ out some snares and Josiah’s helpin’ Nate look for some plants Mr. Po told ‘im about while they get firewood.” JD positioned the small step and lowered the gate which had been fixed into the side rails, allowing the southerner to exit as easily as swinging his legs off the side of a bed. “Creek ain’t that far and the path’s pretty easy. I can help ya down there if ya wanna wash up.”

“I would be most grateful.” Standish pushed himself up and let the younger man assist him from his traveling room.

Swinging the cloth bag containing soap, a towel, toothbrush, tooth powder and other essentials onto his shoulder, Dunne took a light grip on the gambler’s upper arm guiding him toward the water while letting the older man set the pace.

The young sheriff told Ezra how the stable owner had taken great care of Chaucer, using the special salve Vin had concocted on the animal’s sores and telling him how Tanner had provided the hostler with a bag of peppermints ordering him to give the horse one a day. Ezra had been especially pleased when Josiah had returned from a quick side trip, leading the chestnut horse into camp. No one had been able to suppress their smiles when Chaucer had shown his own pleasure, nudging the gambler until Standish had almost fallen out of his chair.

When they reached the small waterway, Dunne fell silent helping him ease to the ground and remove the over large shirt he wore.

While he soaped and rinsed the cloth, passing it to Standish as needed, JD caught Ezra up on the men’s discussions as they’d traveled that day, keeping the talk light to help the gambler ignore his lack of privacy.

“Oh hey Chris!” Dunne called out when Larabee approached, carrying a bar of soap, a towel draped over his shoulder.

“Sorry, didn’t know this spot was bein’ used.” Having decided the best he could do for Standish was accept the fact his presence made the con man uncomfortable, the gunslinger had begun to avoid unnecessary contact with Ezra. He didn’t want to risk ruining whatever chance he might have at mending their tentative friendship missing the opportunity to keep the vow he’d made himself. Worse yet, he wouldn’t chance endangering the other men’s relationship with the con man. He feared if he continued to push Standish the cardsharp might just choose to leave Four Corners so he had backed away.

“Wait a minute.” JD jumped to his feet. “Can ya do me a favor Chris? Can ya stay with Ez until he’s done or till I get back? With him up, now’d be a good time to change the bedding with the extra sheets Miss Sadie sent.” Before either man could say anything, the sheriff went scurrying back toward camp.

“There’s plenty of room, Mr. Larabee and I’m sure you’ll feel much better after you’ve washed up,” Ezra stated after a long tension filled moment. ‘It’s amazing how much energy a person can draw from simple soap and water.”

After setting what he was sure was the territorial record for scrubbing away the day’s dust, Larabee took extra time drying his face and neck so he could watch the gambler from behind the towel.

While Ezra insisted on wearing pants, with his broken arm still strapped to his chest and spending most of his time laying down, they had found it more convenient for the gambler to wear nightshirts, making it easier for Nathan to check his injuries.

Setting aside his wet toothbrush, the southerner nibbled at his lower lip for a long moment as he studied the garment, he’d tugged from the bag. Spreading the shirt flat, he finally slipped his free arm into a sleeve and attempted to maneuver the clothing over his head. Ezra flinched, biting back a groan of pain when twisting wrong on his second unsuccessful try sent a hot poker of agony across his ribcage.

Sadness flared in Larabee’s hazel eyes when he saw the gambler jerk as he reached to help him with the tangled clothing. “Can’t say I blame ya, but ya don’t have ta be afraid of me, Ezra. Just figured ya might be able ta use a little help.”

“Thank you.” Concentrating on taking shallow breaths until the pain had subsided, the gambler stared at the gunslinger, his confusion obvious as Chris eased the shirt over his head and pulled it down to his waist before backing away. “As far as I know, other than your warning when we went after Mr. Potter’s killer you’ve never purposely given me any reason to fear you, Mr. Larabee, so…”

“Cut the crap, Ezra. Cringing ain’t exactly a vote of confidence.”

“That wasn’t fear, Mr. Larabee; that was pain,” the cardsharp admitted. “My ribs made it agonizingly clear I moved wrong while attempting to dress.”

“All ya gotta do is ask for help.” Chris pointed out.

“Thank you but I don’t wish to be anymore of a burden on anyone than absolutely necessary.”

Chris carefully considered his next words, not wanting Ezra to think his courage was in question. “It would only be natural if ya were afraid…after what I did to ya.”

Ezra couldn’t stand the guilt he saw eating away at the Hoosier, destroying the man who fought each day to build a new life after the death of his wife and child. The honorable man who had brought together six men to help him save an Indian village and protect the citizens of a once lawless town. The man who’d given a con man more chances to prove himself than anyone deserved.

“I’m not afraid of you Chris!” Standish reiterated. “And I apologize if I’ve given you that impression as that was never my intention. You have nothing for which to blame yourself.”

The fact that he’d used Chris’ given name immediately drew the gunslinger’s attention to the gambler and the truth he saw in his emerald eyes during that brief unguarded moment rocked Larabee to his very soul: Ezra truly didn’t hold him responsible for anything.

Yet there was more: pain, regret, sorrow, guilt and...

Realizing he’d been unsuccessful in hiding the emotions, he usually kept locked away behind the walls he’d so carefully built over the years, Ezra dropped his gaze, fighting to put his infamous poker face in place.

As difficult as his confession would be, he couldn’t let Chris continue to hold himself culpable for something, for which he clearly held no responsibility. Vin had been correct in his observation that Ezra was avoiding Larabee. He had hoped to postpone this discussion until they reached Four Corners. He needed time to mentally prepare himself for what he knew was coming. He needed time to plan and time to gather his pride. He needed time to be able to accept the repercussions with dignity and he stood a better chance of doing just that if he had the advantage of escaping to the privacy of his room above the saloon away from prying eyes. Damn, his head was starting to hurt.

“Can I ask ya something, Ez?” The Hoosier pressed on, not giving the gambler time to voice his desire not to answer. “I know ya didn’t wanna tell me why ya agreed ta Crowder’s proposal but why the hell didn’t ya at least fight back?”

“The reason I accepted doesn’t change the fact that I put you in the position of having to enter that…arena in the first place.” Disgrace filled the southerner. “Crowder promised his guests a battle and I promised myself they would be dissatisfied. As you, yourself stated, he couldn’t force us to fight. Regrettably we didn’t know about the Wysoccan so we were unable to plan for that contingency. However since he didn’t have the foresight to make certain we were both given doses I could see to it that part of his plan failed.

“Mr. Larabee, I wasn’t being noble when I requested you not blame yourself for anything that might happen. I made that request because it was my carelessness that put you in that position to begin with.”

“Ezra-“

“I thought I had a solution that would keep you…” He shook his head in disgust and raked his free hand over his face, scratching at the two days’ growth of beard. “I made a mistake. I was so tired, I missed something, although that in no way excuses my amateurish efforts. Hell you’d think I’d never run a con before! I was so sure I had it all worked out yet I missed the opportunity to set the most crucial stipulations and unfortunately you had to pay for my incompetence.“

Larabee was stunned by the other man’s hasty speech, even more so when he realized it had been shame he’d seen in the gambler’s emerald eyes. “I…I paid…”

“I can’t begin to apologize enough for-“

“Shut up Standish!” Chris ordered angrily. Pushing to his feet, the gunslinger paced back and forth along the creek bank in an effort to get himself under control before confronting the con man again.

What the hell was wrong with the southerner? Although he would never admit it, Larabee had always thought Ezra was, most likely, the smartest person he’d ever met. So how could the con man look back at everything and see things so differently than everyone else? How could the prideful man suffer the pain of a beating that would take weeks to heal, or the humiliation of having to ask for help with the simplest tasks think Chris had been the one to suffer? How could the southerner not see himself as a victim?

Taking a deep breath, Chris crossed to stoop down next to the con man. “Ezra, I want ya ta listen ta me and listen good…If ya ever try ta apologize again for what happened I will purposely kick your stubborn southern ass to Denver and back again. Ya got nothin’ to apologize for to anyone…especially me. Secondly, I wanna thank ya for whatever it was ya said ta Vin. I don’t know what was goin’ on with him but I gotta pretty good idea and ya eased a burden he shouldn’t a been carryin’. I appreciate it. That boy’s got enough ta deal with, without takin’ on guilt that ain’t his.”

“Something else the two of you have in common.” Ezra mumbled, rubbing at his temples before pinching the bridge of his nose, never taking his eyes from the water that slowly flowed past the two men.

“I’d say that’s the pot callin’ the kettles black cause you sure seem ta have a habit of takin’ responsibility for things you had nothing to do with.”

“On the contrary Mr. Larabee. While I’ll happily take the credit, I rarely take the blame.” Standish denied. “It’s not in my nature.”

“Right.” The Hoosier chuckled. “And ya don’t like ta play poker either.” He grew serious again. “I’m gonna tell you like Sadie told me…The only ones to blame was Crowder…and Macklin of course. Ya got that? Crowder and Macklin were the ones responsible! Not her! Not Esau! Not Po! Not me and especially not you! Ya keep repeatin’ it to yourself until ya finally believe it cause she’s right.”

“If that’s what it takes to begin making amends for…” When he saw the gunslinger’s jaw tightened, Ezra immediately changed the specifications of his agreement. “I’ll do my best.”

“Reckon we can finish this later.” Seeing the gambler’s pain was becoming too much for Ezra to hide, Larabee decided it was time to temporarily end the conversation. “If you’ve finished with your ablutions we’ll get ya back ta camp. We can get ya somethin’ for that headache and ya can lay down till dinner’s ready. Maybe, if ya want, one of us could give ya a shave.”

Ezra nodded, gritting his teeth against the ache in his ribs as Chris carefully assisted him to his feet.

“One more thing Ezra…It’s time ya realized askin’ for help when ya need it doesn’t make ya a burden.”

“I’ll try ta remember that.” The southerner stated hoping to distract the gunslinger from noticing he was allowing Chris to take more of his weight than intended. “Ya do realize this was a set up don’t ya Mr. Larabee?”

“Yep.”

“As clever as he is Mr. Dunne wouldn’t have worked this out on his own.”

“Nope.”

“Since Mr. Jackson butts in only when he’s angry and Mr. Sanchez prefers to get his point across with parables I’d say they could be excluded as his accomplices.” Ezra chattered, working out the con in an attempt to keep his mind off the pain wracking his body. “Mr. Wilmington would be able to convince JD but given his penchant for just barreling ahead I would have to rule him out. Which only leaves our Mr. Tanner.”

“Yep,” Chris agreed. “Though he usually ain’t so sneaky. Must be the company he’s been keepin’.”

“Why, Mr. Larabee, I’ve never thought of you as being especially devious,” Ezra grinned. “Although that ruse with Guy Royal to retrieve the money loaned to Miz Wells was rather clever.”

With a grin of his own, Vin silently slipped further into the shadows as the men passed, before hurrying to reach camp ahead of his two friends.

*******

Lost in thought, Ezra sat rolling a silver dollar through the fingers of his free hand, watching, but not really seeing, the passing scenery, ignoring the dull ache encasing his healing body, his breath hitching slightly when the tracker was unable to avoid a particularly rough spot in the road.

Having left at sunrise that morning Buck and Josiah would reach Four Corners a few hours ahead of the others, giving the small territorial town the protection of some of its peacekeepers once more.

With each passing day and each mile traveled, the gambler found himself fighting the sense of unease and depression which threatened to settle over him like a heavy blanket.

No one was aware Ezra had awakened two nights after his talk with Larabee to the sound of voices arguing in low tones several yards from the wagon. Although he hadn’t been able to make out more than a word or two of what was being said, there was an intensity which made it clear the participants were engaged in a rather heated debate.

While he had no desire to continue the creek side conversation with Larabee, the fact the gunslinger hadn’t broached the subject again, filled him with dread rather than relief. He knew Chris wouldn’t just let the subject drop. He’d been adamant about finishing their discussion, yet other than taking his turn at driving the wagon Larabee hadn’t approached the con man again.

Ezra was certain the gunman was weighing how best to handle the ramifications of all that had happened and the Hoosier’s silence didn’t bode well for the southerner.

Other than informing him of their search and subsequent raid on the valley, no one, except Vin, had spoken with Ezra about their own feelings regarding what had happened to him and Larabee.

In their time together, Standish had studied these men, easily recognized their poker tells, knew without looking, who was approaching by the sound of their footsteps, knew what interested them, what disturbed them and what they found funny. Ezra knew how they thought and how they would react in most situations.

One thing the diverse personalities had in common, they didn’t forgive and forget when a friend was injured. They took it personally and didn’t rest until everyone responsible had paid the price for hurting one of their band,

And Standish had done just that.

No matter what Chris said or Sadie thought, Ezra had no doubt his ineptitude had placed Larabee in Crowder’s death arena. From the beginning of the miserable trip to Connersville it seemed as if he’d failed the gunslinger in every way possible. He hadn’t been able to keep the Hoosier’s black mood or horrendous dreams at bay. He hadn’t insisted on pushing to reach a town each evening or even standing night watch, which might have kept them from being ambushed. He had failed to find a way for them to escape Crowder’s valley and had completely fouled up his one chance to keep the shootist from having to live a nightmare.

He had foolishly allowed Crowder out think and out maneuver him.

“Ya okay Ez?”

The gambler pulled himself from his contemplation when Tanner placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“I asked iffen ya was okay.”

“Fine, thank you.” Ezra forced a smile, hiding his surprise when he realized not only had they stopped but the beaten down grass of the meadow they’d crossed was evidence they hadn’t been on the road itself for quite a few miles. “Isn’t it a bit early for noonin’? I had thought we would be home in time for a steak at Inez’s.”

“You’re not goin’ back ta Four Corners.” Larabee announced, leading his horse to the side of the wagon. Tying off the reins, he didn’t see the disappointment disappear from Ezra’s emerald eyes to be replaced with resignation as the gambler struggled to keep his poker face in place.

The con man nodded, swallowing hard. “Might I request that one of you pack my belongings and lock my room. I’ll send for my things once I’ve decided on a...”

“As usual I’m not sure what the hell you're talkin' about but we can thrash it out after we get ya settled in.” The gunslinger interrupted, dropping the gate. “Along with that discussion we never finished.”

“Ol Ez! I am so happy to see you!”

Standish’s head snapped around at the familiar voice and his eyes lit up as Nica rushed to his side, barely restraining herself from throwing herself into his arms as Chris and Vin helped him from his bed on wheels.

Wilmington grinned, nudging Josiah as, for the first time, Ezra truly looked around and realized the wagon was stopped behind the barn on the small ranch he’d purchased as a home for the woman who’d stolen his heart.

“Chief Chris it is good to see you as well!” The woman politely stated glancing at the gunslinger before once again raking her gaze over the man she loved. Wilmington and Josiah had arrived a few hours earlier to help her prepare for Ezra’s arrival but she needed to see for herself that, with time, he was indeed going to make a full recovery as she’d been assured.

The swelling was gone and the bruises, which covered his face and body, had faded but were still more than evident even hidden beneath the clothing and bandages. She could see the pain he tried to hide behind his happiness in seeing her.

“Everyone must be hungry and lunch is ready.” She proclaimed, moving to his side and gently slipping an arm around his waist. Buck and Josiah stayed close enough to help if needed as she assisted the gambler across the uneven ground toward the house.

“Damnit Chris!” Vin growled lowly, slugging the Hoosier’s upper arm in frustration. “I told ya, ya shoulda said somethin’ ta him before.”

“What the hell are ya talkin’ about? You’re gettin’ damn near as confusin’ as he is.” Larabee groused.

“Ya didn’t see his face Chris. Once he’s well he’ll be movin’ on.” The tracker stated firmly.

“You’re imagin’ things. Why the hell would he…”

“Probably coz he thinks it’s what we want. Maybe coz he thinks it’s best. Don’t matter the reason! Ain’t nothin’ confusin’ ‘bout this.” The tracker stopped in front of the gunslinger as they proceeded to follow the others to the house. “Ya talk ta ‘im as soon as he’s done eatin’ or so help me, I’ll fill your ass with enough buckshot ta keep Nathan busy for weeks diggin’ it out.”

With that said, the Texan turned on his heel and hurried to catch up with the others.

*******

Lunch wasn’t a quiet affair but it wasn’t exactly the rowdy celebration of family members safely returning home. Talk centered around horses Nica was caring for, things they had seen on the trail home, a visit she had made to Chanu’s village and a few events Wilmington had heard about during the few minutes he’d been in Four Corners to collect Ezra’s things. Nica didn’t ask and no one mentioned the valley or what had happened there.

Standing in the doorway, Larabee watched as Nica lovingly fussed over the gambler, straightening the blankets, fluffing pillows and seeing to his general needs until Ezra finally caught her hand, forcing her to stop.

“I’m fine Nica.” He smiled. “Nathan wouldn’t lie to you, my dear. My injuries are healing and I’ll be back on my feet in no time at all. I won’t…”

“Nica, is it alright if I talk ta Ezra for a few minutes?” Chris interrupted before the con man unintentionally hurt the woman’s feelings in his desire not to burden anyone. “There’s some details we need to go over before I head into town.”

“There is the medicine Healer Nathan wants you to drink.” Motioning to the cup on the nightstand, the woman smiled down at the gambler, laughing softly when he grimaced. “He would not want you to drink it if it would not help you get well faster. I will be in the barn if I am needed.”

“Mr. Larabee there really is no reason to continue a unnecessary discussion.” Standish stated when Chris closed the door and pulled a chair to the side of the bed.

“Continuing this particular discussion is extremely necessary.”

“On the contrary. I…”

“Shut up Standish! I got somethin’ ta say and for once you’re gonna listen.” The gunslinger declared. “I don’t…”

“That was really quite rude Mr. Larabee. There was no need to demand silence.” Retrieving the silver dollar Nica had placed on the nightstand, Ezra leaned back against the pillows rolling the coin through his fingers once again.

“There is if that’s the only way to get your attention. I told ya before we were gonna finish…”

Ezra smiled. “I can assure you, Mr. Larabee, I always listen to what you have to say.”

“And Buck doesn’t like women.” Chris cracked sarcastically.

“Really?” The southerner smirked. “If that becomes known, I’m sure you’ll see a major decrease in Four Corners’ male population.”

“Ezra!”

“Yes Mr. Larabee?” The con man inquired innocently.

Chris inhaled deeply in an attempt to hold onto the dwindling amount of patience he had left. “I’m not sure…”

“I would appreciate it if y’all would advise any inquiries that I’m in Eagle Bend or perhaps attending a poker game in a distant town.” Ezra requested. “There are a few things Mr. Wilmington didn’t bring from my room, most likely because he didn’t know where they were located. Would you be so kind as to have Inez lock the room and assure her I will pay the bill in full when I return for the rest of my belongings.”

“No.”

It was Chris’ turn to smile. His simple answer had achieved its purpose drawing the con man’s attention and leaving him momentarily speechless. “Excuse me?”

“Amazing. I didn’t think you’d have any problem defining the meaning of a two letter word.” Larabee shook his head in fake perplexion.

“I understand the meaning of the word but surely ya don’t wish to hurt Miss Nica’s reputation by having it known I’m currently residing here without the benefit of a chaperone.”

“Her reputation’ll be fine.”

“I trust I have your word as a gentleman on that matter.”

“Depends.” The Hoosier shrugged indifferently. He knew the Indian woman was the main weakness in the gambler’s armor. Ezra would do everything necessary for the woman he loved…except perhaps admit, even to himself, that he was indeed in love with her.

“On?”

“On whether you’re ready to shut up and listen to what I have to say.”

“Weren’t you listening Mr. Larabee? I’ve already stated I always listen to you.” Ezra commented, calling the gunslinger’s bluff. He knew Chris would never do anything to hurt a woman, other than Ella Gaines.

“That’s what ya said,” Larabee nodded “but as usual ya haven’t given me the opportunity to say anything.”

“Of course I have…but please continue.” The gambler focused on the coin. “Although why you felt it necessary to inform me of Buck’s sudden lack of desire for female company is beyond me.”

“Ezra, I’m gonna say this just once…Shut the hell up or I swear I’ll gag ya until I’m done talkin’,” the Hoosier threatened, reaching for the bandana tied around his throat.

“I don’t believe Mr. Jackson would find that very sanitary,” Ezra pushed.

Chris rose and opened the door calling into the other room. “Nathan, just wanted ya ta know I’m gonna gag Standish. Ya got a problem with that?”

The con man smirked smugly when there was no immediate answer, the smile disappearing when the healer appeared in the doorway passing the shootist a clean dishtowel. “Use this. Be easier on his bruises.”

Ezra watched the gunslinger closely as Chris returned to his seat, silently twisting the towel into a tight roll.

“After talkin’ it over with the others I…” He began to explain before the gambler could decide he was bluffing once more.

“You don’t need to explain, Mr. Larabee. I realize my usefulness has ended. My abilities as a cheat are no longer needed in order to help keep the peace. You and especially Mr. Tanner have become quite adept at outwitting those intent on causing havoc. Your decision is perfectly understandable and in everyone’s best interest as it’s become quite obvious I’ve lost my edge.”

‘Aw hell!’ The gunslinger suddenly realized what Tanner had been trying to tell him. “Ezra when I said ya weren’t comin’ back ta Four Corners I didn’t mean ever. I’m sorry if that’s how it sounded. I just meant until you were back on your feet. We talked it over the other night and decided it would be easier on ya without the stairs or everyone speculatin’ and commentin’ on your injuries. I know how much ya hate bein’ the center of attention.”

Chris was pleased to see the gambler press his lips together in an attempt to suppress his smile. People were drawn to the charismatic con man and while he never sought out the attention, unless running a con, he never hid from it either, except when he was ill or injured.

“Vin and Buck said we should let you decide but Nathan didn’t want ya climbin’ the stairs and we all know ya hate stayin in the clinic. In the saloon, you’d be disturbed by all the noise or like Josiah pointed out, we’d most likely find ya at the poker table when ya was supposed ta be restin’.

“JD was more worried about everyone questionin’ ya about what happened. He knows we never really finished our talk and I’m not sure if he thought people knowin’ would make me look…”

“He idolizes you Chris. It’s only natural he wouldn’t want people to think the worst and knowin’ people as I do, that’s exactly what would happen.” Ezra nodded. ‘Even if they thought you were right because I was the one beaten.’ Keeping the thought to himself, Ezra dropped his gaze to the coin rolling across his knuckles.

“You know I don’t give a damn what most people think. They ask ya Ez and ya can tell ‘em or not. It’s your decision. I’ll deal with it. And ya don’t have ta worry about Nica’s reputation. We wired Miz Nettie and asked her ta meet Buck in town this mornin’. Someone’ll be here all the time. Either one of us or Miz Nettie or even Casey.” Chris continued, stopping the gambler’s protest. “That’s also why we came across the meadow insteada stayin’ on the road so only a few people would know you were here unless ya want them to.”

Larabee massaged the back of his neck. “I never meant for ya ta think anything other than…”

“You never gave that impression Mr. Larabee.” Ezra quickly corrected him, although that’s exactly what he had thought. “However, that would be the most logical conclusion to this particular problem. We all know your decisions are always based on the best way to handle a situation while trying to keep everyone safe and I…”

“But isn’t that exactly what you did when you accepted Crowder’s proposition.” The gunman argued, humbled once again by the selfless act. “Ya put my best interest over your own.” He was pleased when Ezra couldn’t hide his surprise but he also realized it meant the gambler was growing weary and probably concentrating more on hiding his pain. “Sadie told us everything. She didn’t want to but Crowder told Travis ya agreed of your own free will so he questioned her about it. Seems she was bringin’ ‘im lunch and heard the whole thing.”

“You must admit the situation was far from normal.” Standish countered. “As you well know my main rule is and always has been to look out for number one first and foremost. However, nothing I did was going to keep me out of that corral so I could at least give you the opportunity to try and help those people…”

“And exactly how was sneaking off to check the railroad pay records or climbing on top of a armored carriage in the middle of a gun battle looking out for number one?” Larabee questioned, wanting the con man to know they did recognize all the efforts he made on behalf of others.

‘Why is it they can’t seem to forget those two minor lapses in judgement?’

The gambler shrugged. “Simply explained, railroads have a tendency to monetarily reward those who look out for their best interests and it was definitely in my best interest not to let the Nichols win that particular battle.”

‘Cocky bastard’s got an answer for everything.’

“Chris, I know myself, far better than anyone else, except possibly my mother…I realize my limitations, perhaps now more than ever. If I were any of you, I would be extremely leery regarding my judgement…”

“Well ya ain’t us and there’s nothin’ wrong with your judgement.” Larabee snarled.

“I have to disagree Mr. Larabee. I completely miscalculated…”

“Damnit, it’s called being exhausted Ezra!” The gunslinger snapped, angrily tossing the towel across the room and pushing to his feet, pacing for a long moment before gripping the post at the end of the bed. “It’s called being human! With everything that was happening, it’s a wonder you were able to think at all, let alone think clearly enough to devise a plan to try and take care of me. Yet that’s exactly what you did.

“We went through hell out there Ezra! You went through hell! As hard as it was for me to watch what he was putting you through. As hard as it was for me to see the results when they brought you back every night, I wasn’t the one actually living it. I wasn’t the one they dragged out of there each morning and I wasn’t the one….” Chris drew in a deep breath, trying to control the rage that consumed him with each remembered act taken against the gambler in Crowder’s quest for Larabee’s surrender.

“It was no harder on me than the time you were unjustly imprisoned in that work camp.” Ezra pointed out quietly.

“Bullshit! There weren’t women in that camp, being degraded, humiliated or killed. I didn’t have to hear their stories and know what they were suffering. And I knew there was a chance of surviving that place. I knew there was every chance the six of you would find me. We had no way of knowing that this time…”

‘At least I didn’t. Seems you had more faith in our friends and in me than I did.’

“Let me tell you something else Ezra.” Larabee met the gambler’s emerald eyes, his own pain as evident as the con man’s. “I would rather have spent the rest of my life in that prison camp than watch what you were going through, knowing the only way to stop it was to agree to what that bastard wanted…To do exactly what you didn’t want. You don’t know how close I came to givin’ in.”

Ezra blinked rapidly trying to focus on the coin, surprised by his own emotional response to the Hoosier’s sincerity, uncertain how to reply.

“I know ya didn’t wanna talk about this Ezra but there were things that needed ta be said. I didn’t want ya thinking you were responsible for anything that happened there except for how much ya helped me and the others.” In an effort not to embarrass the southerner any further, but needing to finish what he started, Chris took his seat again, keeping his own gaze focused on the towel he had retrieved. “I didn’t want ya thinking what you went though wasn’t appreciated and I don’t want ya believing we think of you only as a cheatin’ con man. You’re one of us Ezra. Whether that’s a good thing or not, depends on who you’re talkin’ to but I can honestly say I’ve never rode with a better group of men and I’m glad you’re one of ‘em.”

Without being obvious, Larabee watched the emotions play across the gambler’s face as Ezra struggled to push them behind his invisible walls. He knew the con man had been taught showing his feelings put him at a disadvantage and knew he needed to do something to help the southerner. Replacing the coin with the cup, the Hoosier encouraged Ezra to drink the tea

“What about the others? Did anyone question Macklin?” Standish finally asked after finishing the tea. “I doubt Crowder was his only customer.”

“Ed tried ta get a lighter sentence by givin’ Travis names of some of the customers but they’re in Mexico. Orrin’s gonna see what he can work out with some government friend a his down that way.”

“But he doesn’t believe it will help.” The con man correctly surmised.

“Nope.” Chris shook his head. “Says he’ll think of somethin’ else if it doesn’t.”

“Don’t know ‘bout y’all but it’s been awhile since I’ve,” Ezra covered a yawn. “Been ta Mexico. “

“Well ya can work on a plan while you’re stuck here…When ya aren’t thinkin’ of other things.” The gunslinger added with a teasing grin.

“You’ve spent far too much time with Mr. Wilmington.” The gambler chuckled, his words starting to slur and his eyes growing heavy. “I on the other hand am a gentleman…Course there isn’t anything…wrong with…thinkin’ about…a beautiful woman.”

“Good thing cause that’s all you’re gonna be able ta do for awhile. Just one more thing Ezra.” The gunslinger stated as the con man settled deeper into the pillows. “Now that I’ve finally gotten ya ta shut up long enough for me ta have my say, I want ya ta know that I realize there’s a lot a things you might need ta say and I’ll listen anytime you’re ready. If ya don’t wanna talk ta me, any of the others’ll help ya out and keep your confidence. Ya got my word on that.”

“I doubt that will be necessary but thank you, Mr. Larabee.” The con man mumbled sleepily.

“You’re the one deserves the thanks…” Chris settled in the chair ta watch over the southerner. “For what you did and what you tried to do…And for being my friend.”

There was many things they still needed to work through but he saw a small smile touch Ezra’s lips and his slight nod and knew the gambler had heard.

For now that was enough.

THE END

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