Larabee watched from a distance. Shocked. He could see even from where he was the horse had a broken leg. What unnerved him the most was Standish. You never knew what the man would care about next. He had seen the conman take on his fellow man, turn a callused attitude at those around him yet entertain children as if they were his own. He would not share a meal with a questionable character but throw scraps to a dog. It was just a horse, but even from his vantage point, Larabee could feel the dread and grimness the gambler felt. Chris shook his head it was just like last week.
mmm7mmm
Last week, coming back from Little Springs, in torrential down pours, rivers over running banks, Standish pulled the most incredible stupid move Larabee had ever witnessed in another human being. A dog stuck out on a snag, barked incessantly. They all heard it. They all turned and saw the big black dog, marooned on the ever piling debris, water violently tore past loud enough to muffle even the panicked bark of a dog only a few yards from shore. All turned to ignore it, except the cardshark. Before anyone could say anything, the damn fool had dismounted Chaucer and climbed a tree that over hung the river. He eased his way out onto a limb and dropped nimbly onto the log jam, next to the dog. Larabee wanted to shoot him right there and then, what was the fool thinking? Josiah and Vin, prevented him, but the anger in Sanchez’s eyes matched Larabee’s. The preacher would prevent the shooting so he could beat sense into the southerner when or if they managed to get him to shore. Vin just smiled shaking his head, as if he suspected this kind of twisted behavior.
They had thrown a rope out to him. Standish had secured the rope around his chest and gathered up the beast. It bit him. They watched from shore as the gambler stepped off the unsteady jam into the dark icey waters, clinging the fighting beast to his chest. He had smiled at them, confident and cocky the others would be there to save him. Larabee had dallied the rope around his saddle horn. The rushing water had quickly whipped it’s new prey down stream. The rope grew taut as Standish hit the end of it’s length. Chris felt his horse get pulled forward. Larabee then asked his horse to back up, dragging the southerner and his passenger diagnally back up stream. The horse straining under the weight of dog and man and the relentless force of the current, slipped in the mud. It went down in a scream, trapping one of Chris’s legs under it. The rope began undalling from the horn. The horse tried to regain it’s feet only to fall back burying its rider even deeper in the soft mud. Wind, slantered rain and fading daylight made it nearly impossible to see Ezra and the dog in the raging river.
With the rope pulling free, Josiah dove over Chris and his downed horse and grabbed the rapidly unraveled rope. With the rope free from the horn, Sanchez found himself being dragged mercilessly toward the black roaring river. He swung his legs around and dug his heals into the relenting mud. The wet muddy rope continued slipping ever so slowly from his massive hands. Finally his feet held. The force and combined weight were even to much for him and he felt himself get set up and then pulled over his outstetched legs head first into the rising shore of the water.
Tanner left Chris seeing Josiah’s predicament and dove for the ever receding preacher. The nimble tracker grabbed him by the waist and heaved for all his worth. He gained a few inches. Suddenly Chris was at his side and together with agonizing slowness they hauled the giant man from the water. Then hand over hand the three men pulled on the rope slowly but successfully hauling their prey back to shore.
The dog seeing it was very near shore, climbed frantically from the weakening grasp of the southerner and jumped the rest of the way to land, taking off into the ever encroaching evening, never looking back.
Josiah reached into the water and hauled the water logged conman from it’s black grasp. The preacher would have decked him there but the smaller man had finally succumbed to the lack of oxygen and had passed out. Sanchez had half a mind of flipping him upside down and beating the water out of his lungs by flinging him against a rock like one would beat a rug, but instead turned the other cheek, for now. They flopped the conman belly down on the ground keeping his head lower than his legs and beat the water from his chest, perhaps a little more vigorously than necessary. They watched as he vomited, gasped for air, vomited again and then blinked opening his eyes. He had the gall to smile. Larabee had drug him to his feet and then punched him squarely in the jaw sending the gambler back into the thick mud and unconsciousness.
Chris finally laughed at the memory. It was the first time he could. He watched Ezra saddle Chaucer. Chris could never remember ever seeing Josiah so mad in all the times he had known the man. Sanchez was not one to anger easily and had never directly been enraged by one of the others in their tight group. Leave it to Standish to madden the most physically imposing and dangerous man in all the area. Later that same evening, Josiah had gotten his chance and placed a matching blow just below the conman’s eye. Ezra could make the Lord himself sigh with exasperation.
Larabee rested his wrists on the horn of his saddle. He watched Ezra tighten the cinch and flop the stirrup down. The conman was forced to mount from the right side, favoring his left ankle. It was a feat, but Chaucer seemed patient. Larabee could not help but think Ezra thought more of his horse than he did most people. He certaintly treated the horse better than most people, strange. Chris waited and watched as the conman instead of urging his quarter horse in the direction of town turned and headed back up the trail to Junction City. Now what?
Chris hung back trailing his friend for another couple of miles. The day began to heat up already. Larabee wiped his forehead, pushing his hat back. Within a few hours they had entered the treed area. Chris suspected maybe this was where the ambush had taken place. He observed as Standish searched the ground for something. He apparently was getting hot and frustrated. Larabee smiled again, Ezra was not very keen on outdoor activity, preferring the comforts of a good saloon. Standish then left the trail, guiding his chestnut down a steep slope. Chris hung back watching from a protected view point. He finally spotted what Ezra searched for, Vin’s rented horse. Larabee nodded, beginning to accept the gamblers exentricities. Did he feel duty bound to Vin or to the horse or both. Not that it mattered, Standish had completed what he set out to do, either bring the horse back or return Vin’s coverted saddle.
Larabee tired of hanging back rode up and waited for Ezra to break back over the crest of the trail. If Ezra was surprised he hid it well. "Ahh Mr. Larabee what do I owe pleasure of your company so early in the morning." The smile and tone were there but the tired red eyes and clenched jaw muscles spoke volumes about his discomfort.
Chris wondered if it were physical discomfort Standish hid or the fact he found himself in the company of his ‘boss’. Larabee mimmicked the gambler’s smirk, "I thought I saw you up and about earlier didn’t believe my own eyes. Had to check it out for myself." His casual lie, readily accepted, Larabee chalked it up to the younger man’s exhaustion.
"Want me to pony him home?"
Standish nodded slightly breathing out a soft thankyou. They rode the rest of the way home with minimal conversation. Each enjoying the day and surprisingly each other’s company.
mmm7mmm
A few hours later,covered yet in another layer of fine dust, Standish entered the saloon. Chris had gone to check in on Vin. Ezra settled down in his customary table, not bothering to brush dust from his clothes. They were the same clothes he wore yesterday, and it seemed pointless. He would have a whiskey at hot bath and retire early. It seemed a chore just to keep his eyes open. He nodded absently to Inez as she placed a shot before him. Concern etched her almond eyes he noticed it, smiled reassuringly and focused back on his cards. The barmaid kept an eye on him from behind her bar, making sure he did not fall from his chair. He looked terribly run down.
"There he is!" Ezra slowly gazed up from his cards as Mr. Harlow and Nathan Jackson entered the saloon. Harlow pointed an accusing finger at the cardman. Standish closed his eyes momentarily, ‘now what?’. "Tell’im Standish! Tell’im how you were up early this morning, didn’t think anyone would notice did you. Well I saw you!" Harlow a portly man of indetermined middle age, with thinning hair now stood infront of the gambler harrumphing about something. Ezra’s eyes slid from Harlow to Jackson.
"Nathan is there a problem?" He sipped his whiskey, hiding his fatigue behind a laconic smile.
"Yes there is a problem! Someone stole money from my till." Harlow leaned dangerously across the table trying to pin the conman with an icey stare. Standish stared unpreturbed back at the merchantile’s proprietor. If Harlow had known how many times Ezra had been the target of Larabee’s deadly glare Harlow would realize he only served to amuse the conman. Through clenched teeth but loud enough for all to hear, Harlow continued, "and we know it was you. Why else would a thief like you would be up so early in the morning."
Standish raised an eyebrow at Jackson ignoring the propioter. "We?" Ezra asked pinning the healer with an amused look. Jackson shrugged slightly embarrassed.
"I assure you gentlemen ,and I use the term in its most loosely translated state, that I did not abscond with any monies this fine morning." With that Ezra returned to his game of solitaire and sipped his whiskey, effectively dismissing the two men from his presence.
"See I told you Mr. Harlow, Ezra ain’t no thief." Jackson said tiredly. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep. He had been rudely awaken by incessent pounding on his clinic door. Harlow had been red faced and furious. ‘Why me?’ thought Nathan.
"Besides Ezra believes theivery is below him." The healer continued trying to steer the angry man away from the gambler. Standish appeared as tired as Nathan felt.
"No I’m not satisfied! I want him searched!"
Nathan to tired to fight turned gazed imploringly at the gambler to just comply.
Standish could not believe Jackson would do this to him. Ezra suddenly found himself in a blind rage and threw down his shot glass splintering the thick glass across the wooden floor. The saloon became deathly silent. It seemed as if it’s few occupants held their breath. His tired green eyes burned with murderous intent. "Searched is it? Then fine." His words dripped with seething anger. Ezra stripped off his dust ladden blue duck tailed coat and threw it on the table. His once white shirt appeared grey with a few old and recent sweat stains. His ever present cavat was missing today. He removed his derringer, and started unbuttoning his shirt.
"Ezra this ain’t necessary." Nathan whispered softly. He had never seen this side of the gambler. He had seen Ezra angry, seen him swallow his pride and hide his hurt behind a sly smile and a carefree demeanor but he had never seen this, a cold rage exposed for all the world to witness.
Larabee entered the saloon just as Standish shattered his whiskey glass off the floor. He leaned against the bar and motioned for Inez. The barmaid bit her lip in sorrow and made her way to Larabee.
"What going on?" Chris asked quietly never taking his eyes off the disrobing conman.
Inez quickly explained in hushed tones. Larabee simply nodded his head and slid over beside Standish. Chris was beginning to better understand last week’s incident and Ezra’s actions earlier this morning. People sometimes were not worth any effort, a stray dog and a rented horse demanded more respect from the gambler than most strangers.
Ezra had stripped to the waist. The lariat’s yellow fading bruises and the dog scratches readily apparent for all to see. He continued to glare at Harlow. He rested his hands on the top button to his trousers. "Would you like me to remove my trousers as well Mr. Harlow? I must confess you are not my type, and though I would not hesitate in the company of a fair maiden, you ,slanderous sir, do nothing to stir me."
This recieved a few chuckles from the scattered patrons who watched with rapted attention.
"I hope not Mr. Harlow because I for one won’t do it." Larabee said removing his hat and starting to undo his shirt.
Harlow watched horrified as the infamous Chris Larabee began to remove his shirt. Jackson hid his smirk. "I ...I ‘um don’t think you had anything to do with it Mr. Larabee...." Harlow stammered.
"If you accuse one of my men you accuse me." Chris laid his tossed his dust ladden shirt next to Standish’s.
Ezra hid his surprise. Someone backed him up, of all people, Chris Larabee. Heck just last week Chris wanted to shoot him. Friendship was definately one hard con to figure out. Maybe that was the problem, he figured it to be a con, a game of sorts always looking for the underlying trickery, maybe ,just maybe, he should take them at face value. Nah, not yet.
"Well Mr. Harlow?" the gambler held his hands poised on the button, waiting. He caught Inez smiling behind the bar. Now she stirred him.
Inez smiled this was a dream come true, she just hoped this would have happened between the southener and herself in more private environment. Standish, she knew, was not bashful especially when he had paraded through town wearing nothing but a table cloth. She sighed wistfully poured herself a whiskey and tipped it in the general direction of the gambler. Go for it.
Chris wanted to strangle Standish. He would prefer not to remove all his clothes for the leering occupants of the saloon. Mary, yes, these dusty loose lipped drunken cow hands. No. But he jumped in with both feet to back one of his men, he would follow through. He had to, especially with Standish. The man had no experience with trust and dependency. Chris would show him it existed but he really hoped it would not have to be done like this.
"Ahh no Mr. Standish that will not be necessary." Harlow cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed. "But you must understand my concern. Having seen you moving about town so early is out of character for you and then to find my cash draw empty. Surely you understand." Harlow tried to cover his tracks.
Nathan shut his eyes he could see the building fury.
When Ezra spoke loathing and unforgiveness hung like a physical thing in the air.
"You come in here with malicious intent, and attempt to slander me and then ask me to understand. I think not Mr. Harlow." Standish grabbed his shirt and coat off the table slinging them over the back of the chair and sat down. He nodded his thanks to Chris and returned to his game of solitaire, ignoring the quick retreat of his accuser.
"Ezra you ok?" Jackson asked trying to smooth over rough waters.
Standish looked up and faced the healer. He knew Nathan’s hand was forced, knew the healer was just as tired if not more so than himself. Yet Ezra could not disguise his mistrust.
"Because I have stepped out of my normal behavior I am suspected of unlawful actions." He paused the cold emptiness of his tone matched his eyes.
The healer appeared just as hurt as the gambler. Chris silently put on his shirt and sat at the table listening to the conversation. This was an age old war.
"Let me present it to you this way, Mr. Jackson. You partake in the defamation of my character, and vilify me because I woke early. I expect as much from others ,like Harlow, and I hesitate, but regretfully admitt expect it even of you. Now, however, in the next breath you show concern for my well being, decidabley a behavior outside your norms. I propose to you Mr. Jackson , why should I not suspect some subtefuge on your part?"
Nathan stood facing Ezra Standish. The gambler’s words stung. They hit their mark and did their damage. Jackson swallowed. It felt as if all eyes were on him. He caught Larabee’s raised questioning eyebrows. Did Chris agree with the southerner? Did he really believe that Nathan’s concern for Ezra’s well being suspect? No, Chris understood Nathan’s position. Why couldn’t Standish? The conman believed everyone had an angle, everyone out to get everyone else. He never trusted an open invitation, or the overt show of friendship, something menacing always lurked underneath, or so Standish believed. Nathan could not over look Standish’s overt annoying ammoral attitude toward others. He would not tolerate the southerners lack of respect for other’s and occasional questionable ethics. He had more than once berated the conman both publically and privately for his lack of empathy. Today, Nathan felt it was he who acted ammorally, he who had failed a friend. He did not tell Harlow to stop did not lead Harlow away from the bone wary gambler because he himself was tired. The result, another strand unraveled from the fragile tendril of friendship he and Standish had managed to forge.
Ezra saw the pain he had inflicted on his friend with just a few words. Aww hell, he did it again. Let his mouth run. He got hurt so he lashed out at the nearest target. Figured it was Nathan. The man was like an open book. He presented exactly what he was, an honest, hard working man trying to ease everyone else’s pain and suffering, everyday, all hours of the day and night. Standish shut his eyes and shook his head slowly. Ezra sighed, he could not, nor did he want to be a man like Nathan. Those poor open hearted souls who bent over backward to selflessly help others normally became broken bitter men, trampled apon by an undeserving public. Nathan had avoided such dire treatment and still held onto his dreams. Today Standish had become one of the underserving mindless nomads who firmly put his foot print on Nathan’s trust. This was not the healer’s fault he too was just a victim, just to tired to fight, to do the considerate thing.
"I’m fine Nathan just tired." A small apologetic smile creased his tired features. Standish slowly pushed back from the table gathered his cards and belongings and ascended the stairs.
Nathan took a seat next to Larabee. Chris smiled crookedly and said, "man does have away with words." Jackson nodded still feeling somewhat ashamed. Larabee continued, "Vilify?" He looked to Nathan for some kind of clarification.
Ezra was just about to the top of the stairs when Nathan’s voice stopped him
"Ezra?"
"yes Mr. Jackson?" Standish turned and faced the knife throwing healer.
"What’s vilify?" A toothy grin spread across the healers features. Chris’s smirk was hidden by his shot glass.
"The wrong word used on the wrong person. My apologies." Standish returned the smile gratefully and shuffled down to his room.
Vin woke to an arguement. Buck and JD. Tanner kept his eyes closed hoping maybe he could get back to sleep. He arguably had the worst headache of his life. The volume of the arguement increased.
"Will you two shut up." Vin opened his eyes and found Buck holding JD in a headlock at the foot of the bed.
"Well look who finally decided to wake up." Buck exclaimed bit to loudly for Tanner’s headache. The tracker silently wondered if he had offended Nathan in some way.
"A bit testy too." Wilimington said shoving JD aside. Dunne pushed back not allowing Buck to get the last hit in.
"Yeah he is." JD said coming closer to the head of the bed. "How you feelin’ Vin?"
"Fine. Help me up." Tanner tried to sit up but the combination of the head wound and dehydration had taken there toll. Besides Buck held him down, "oh no you don’t. Nathan’s in a foul enough mood as it is, you’re not going anywhere."
The tracker settled back down without and arguement. Buck appeared serious. Vin felt the wound on his forehead. "Leave it alone." Buck slapped the tracker’s hand away.
Vin glared annoyingly back up at the larger gunslinger.
"Forget it Vin it won’t work." JD added helpfully. He sat with resignation in the chair beside the bed.
"Nathan’s so mad right now, he’s liable to choke someone." Dunne settled down in the chair placing his feet up on Tanner’s bed. Buck sat dejectedly in the rocker.
Vin stared from JD to Buck then back to JD. Still angry at being cornered and forced into captivity he knocked Dunne’s booted feet off the bed. JD did not react, disappointing the tracker.
"What’s got Nathan so worked up?"
"Ezra." It was said in unison.
Vin watched both men waiting for an explanation but none was forth coming. The tracker should have known. The damn gambler was as much trouble as a pit full of rattlers. First he riled Chris into a murderous rage, then argued with Josiah until the preacher flattened him with a snapping punch to the cheek and now he worked his magic with the healer.
"What’d he do this time?"
Buck and JD sat up, finally someone to listen to their version of the events in the saloon. Heck Vin did not need to know they got it second hand from a drunk cowboy. Wilimington, as was his typical style, embellished a few facts but the fragile base of facts remained the same. Standish had indeed woken up early.
The six peacekeepers sat around their customary table in the saloon. The sun had set, allowing things to cool off. An assortment of partially full whiskey glasses littered the table. Buck and JD after relating their version of events, had relented and helped Vin get dressed and go to the saloon. Nathan had slept most of the day away and woke less than an hour ago. He had seen Josiah exiting the church and both men joined Chris and Vin at their table. Buck and JD followed only a few minutes shattering the quiet that had enveloped the foursome. Only one of them was missing. He descended the stairs only a few minutes after Buck and JD’s entrance.
"Hey Ezra!" JD called out as the gambler carefully picked his way down the stairs. Everyone turned saw the gambler and then returned to their drinks. Standish did not look up bent on concentrating negotiating the stairs. Once down he dragged a chair over and joined the others. Inez seemingly materialized out of nowhere placed a whiskey glass infront of him and another bottle in the middle of the table. "Thankyou my dear." He gave here an engaging smile.
"Good evening gentlemen." Ezra smiled at the group and effortlessly began shuffling a deck of cards.
"Evenin’ Brother." Josiah responded sipping his whiskey. The preacher tried to ignore the twang of guilt at the receding bruised cheek on the gamblers clean shaven features. Larabee in recounting the adventures of last week had discriminately left out large chapters, sparing Sanchez. Josiah had not deemed it necessary to enlighten the others on the missing pieces, at least not yet.
"Anyone up for a game of chance?" Ezra asked fanning the cards face down only to quickly reshuffle them again. There were nods of consent around the table. Standish began to deal.
"Mr. Tanner I’m surprised our intrepid healer has allowed you out and about so early after our misfortune." Ezra slid his cards into his hands.
Vin gathered his cards up scrutinizing them and answered, "yeah well after you wore him down it made it easier for me." Vin gazed up at Ezra looked him squarely in the eye and simply said, "thanks."
Standish raised an eyebrow, slightly embarrassed. He had done no more than what Vin would have done for him or any of the others. Well maybe Josiah, Ezra did not think he nor Vin would be able to carry the giant man anywhere.
Nathan ,not sure how to broach the subject, simply stated, "We’re gonna have to rewrap that foot of yours. It ain’t broke but it might as well be, until that swelling goes down and those ligaments tighten, it’s gonna need support." There he said it. Jackson did not relish the idea of another argument with the southerner.
Chris watched the exchange. He easily recognized the healers unease at having to approach that territory again. Nathan never ceased to amaze him with his generosity. Larabee would have settled for wrestling the conman down and rewrapping it with or without his consent.
Standish looked up from his cards a slight smile present and nodded his ,"how ‘bout tomorrow?"
Nathan agreed nodding. The healer picked up his cards gazed at them and cursed the gambler. How come he was never dealt a winning hand?
"Hey Ezra you gonna do another striptease for us tonight?" Buck teased not bothering to hide his laughter. JD giggled trying to hide his laugh from behind his raised cards. Smirks spread around the table.
Josiah’s interest had been piqued, "striptease?" He paused and added, "did I miss something today?" Sanchez noticed the slight rise in color in Standish’s face, it was matched by Larabee’s.
Ezra allowed a small dimpled smile to cross his face, "Well Mr. Wilimington, maybe, but only for a certain, well charmed, audience of one."
Inez heard her cue. She sashshayed over and bent down next to the gambler and a playfully nipped his ear, running her hands down his chest. With raised eyebrows and an devilish smile, Standish stared knowingly at Wilimington.
Buck’s jaw flopped open and nearly hit the table. Laughter from the five other men could be heard from outside the saloon. Things had finally come back to order, at least for some. Poor Buck.
The end.