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"What happened again?" Tanner drawled out. He swayed slightly in the saddle holding onto the horn. His chin hung heavily against his chest. Dry rivulets of blood had blazed undaunted through the heavy layer of dust that covered his face. The once sharp blue eyes appeared glazed. The pupils were slightly unequal. Ezra could not be sure if the right one was to dilated or the left one to constricted. Standish figured it really did not matter the fact remained the same, the pupils were unequal. The stalwart tracker had a concussion at the very least and hopefully that was all. Standish sighed when he heard the question again. The unflappable gambler was becoming irritable. He had lost count how many times Vin had asked the same question in just the last twenty minutes. For as many times the question was asked Standish answered. At first his answers had been detailed explaining every moment of the gunfight, but as time wore on and the same question repeated itself the answers fell inadequately short. "You hit your head." Ezra did not bother looking back over his blue pinstripe shoulder, but simply mimicked Vin’s "oh." The question was always the same, the answer varied and the response varied from an ‘oh’ to a ‘huh.’. The endless monotony of it all was slowly driving the man of chance crazy.
The sun hung high in the sky baking the ground and all that ventured out into it. Vin had lost his hat in the scuffle as well as his horse. Ezra had squashed his hat on the bobbing head. Standish led his rented horse by the reins. The animal’s limp was becoming more pronounced. So much for hoping it would walk out of it. The gambler stared at his surroundings they were more than ten miles from Four Corners. Eagle Bend was even further and forget about Bitter Creek, Nettie Wells place might have been an option but Ezra was not sure if someone hounded their heels or not. Gawd he was thirsty. For as far as the eye could see, only cacti, sage and barren hard earth presented it self. Standish sighed continuing his trek down the heat shimmering trail.
Ezra limped also, matching the horse. He had felt his ankle swell immediately in the confines of the boot when it happened. He had snagged it in between two fallen trees as he dove for cover. The trees did not give much latitude but his ankle sure did. Standish chuckled remembering how he had held his ankle cursing his fate rolling on the ground toward some bushes as bullet ripped through the air. Vin had yelled at him to ‘quit floundering around like a beached fish and get under cover.’ Between firing, Ezra had shouted back a snappy retort. Then the unthinkable happened. A richocet. A bullet skipped off a boulder slightly changing angle, reducing velocity and struck the tracker with a glancing forceful blow off the corner of the forehead. It was enough to spin Vin partially around standing him upright for a moment before he fell like an unstrung puppet to the ground.
Standish had watched in horror. His heart stopped, he screamed Vin’s name and started firing. At first he fired like a mad man, he sudden uncontrollable rage taking over. Then somewhere in the back of his mind ,like a drill sergeant, he heard his mother. Maude, admonishing him for such an overt show of emotion. With a murderous glint Standish searched and found his targets one by one and squeezed the trigger of his remingtons. His sudden accuracy was more than noticed by their attackers. The ambushers having realized they woke a sleeping demon slipped back into the forest. They would leave their prey for now. Two bodies laced the wooded ground.
Standish waited a few minutes, watching wearily for the cretins. He tried to listen but could only hear the roar of his own pulse. He held his breath but found he was to winded to hold it for more than a few seconds. Satisfied he and Vin were once again alone the gambler hobbled toward his fallen comrade, ignoring the two corpses for now.
Tanner lay only a few hundred yards from Ezra. Standish jogged the best he could favoring his injured ankle. He slid over fallen trees and leaning windfalls all the while waiting for a bullet to rip into him. It did not happen. He found Vin lying flat on his back. Blood ran freely down the left side of his face. His left eye had already begun to swell. What surprised Ezra and sent him to his knees in relief was the fact Tanner blinked lazidly up at the sky. "Mr. Tanner? Mr. Tanner can you hear me?" Standish watched the tracker. Vin gave no indications he knew anyone called his name. Instead he blinked slowly staring up at the cloudless midmorning sky as if fascinated by it. Ezra furrowed his brow and rolled Tanner’s head toward him by the chin. Still the eyes gazed upward. "Mr. Tanner? Vin can you hear me?"
A drunken smile crossed the trackers features. "Oh great", Standish moaned. He noticed the change in pupils. This did not bode well for either of them. "Vin how many fingers am I holding up?" Standish held up two fingers. The tracker seemed to study them for a brief moment the smile sliding from his face as he concentrated. He shifted his attention upward again the smile returning and drawled out, "Bluuue." Vin tried to raise his hand upward to point skyward but the effort seemed to much so he let his hand fall back with a resounding thud.
Ezra shut his own eyes and muttered, "oh just great. This is just wonderful."
It had taken him twenty minutes to find his rented horse. Vin’s was nowhere to be found. What could one expect from rented livery stock. Stoltey gave them the best he had but those two mounts did not hold a candle to Chaucer or Peso. Both animals were still recovering from a particularly grueling ride. (Their masters were not offered such respite, a point Ezra really wanted to take up with their leader. Vin had told him the better part of valor was to keep his mouth shut and let Larabee alone. Nathan did not really relish the company of a recooperating Standish and that was sure to happen if the southerner approached Chris with opinions on Larabee’s leadership skill.) Ezra recalled the conversation with a sigh. He searched a few more minutes for the wayward creatures. When he had found his animal, it had become lame. Right front foot. Standish had uttered an oath. He found no stone in the shoe, just a swelling in the fetlock. It would seem both horse and rider suffered from the same ailiment, twisted ankles.
With a string of profanity and more effort than Ezra would have thought needed he managed to get Vin into the saddle. The movement must have been to much because suddenly Vin’s stomach heaved. Ezra jumped back as quick as he could,trying to avoid the cascade of gastric juices, hooked his injured foot in a bramble and fell unceremoniously on his butt. His feet easy targets for Vin’s upset stomach suffered the consquences of Standish’s clumsiness.
"aww hell," Ezra had hissed ,his foot screamed out in protest, almost as much as he did as Vin’s breakfast began to saturate his fine custom made leather boots.
Now three hours later, baking in the hot afternoon sun, favoring an ever throbbing bad ankle, the unmistakable stink of vomit clinging to him , Standish lead his horse closer to Four Corners. "What happened again?" Ezra closed his eyes against the question. Maybe if he just gagged the Texan.....he stopped the thought. There had been a few times when Vin had to protect and nurse the gambler back from his fair share of blows to the head (like last week). Standish of course could not remember those times clearly but if it were anything like he was experiencing now he owed the tracker one heck of an apology. "You hit your head." The simple clipped answer. Ezra lipsinked Vin’s vocal, "huh." It was always the same. Standish took another unsound step forward the horse mimicking his limp with its own. A dry wind kicked up not easing the scorching heat but adding to Standish’s increasing discomfort. Days like this made him appreciate life in the saloon.
Buck and JD lounged outside the very saloon Ezra longingly thought to reach. "Hey Buck when you think Vin and Ezra will get back?" Dunne tossed his knife onto the wooden boardwalk, once again it stuck point first. He leaned down out of his chair to retrieve it listening for an answer. "I don’t know. If Ezra found himself a poker game probably not til tomorrow. Otherwise Vin would push for them to be back today." Willimington wiped his brow on his shirt sleeve. It was way to hot. "How come Chris sent Ezra and Vin to Junction City?" Dunne set back in his chair aiming again to toss his knife. Again it stuck point first into the wood. The numerous small divits in the boardwalk held a testament to the kid’s improving skill. "You’d think they’d have been tired after last week’s mess." Buck merely nodded wondering the same thing to himself.
The week before Vin, Ezra, Chris and Josiah had ridden off to the west for a prisoner pickup. It rained the whole time, flash floods swept through the surrounding area. The four men had returned home as tired and muddy as their mounts. No prisoner. It seemed the sheriff had misplaced the outlaw. You could see Chris’s black attitude a half mile away. Both he and his horse were covered with a thick crust of mud. Noone had said anything. Even Josiah remained cryptic about the events of the week, when asked. He only answered, "Brother Standish has more lives than a stray cat."
Buck had been about to question Vin when the tracker merely stated, "he’s used up two so far." Buck knew better than to push Chris. Willimington had contemplated sending JD to weasel the information from his oldest friend but thought better of it. Buck really wanted the kid to live to a ripe old age. That left Standish. A blackened cheek and a bruised jaw were not easily disguised even with the dried mud that covered him thoroughly head to toe.
"What happened?" Buck had asked. Standish merely raised his eye brow and answered the question with an innocent question, "what makes you think anything happened?" With that the gambler delicately walked toward the bath house.
Something had happened, something big. No matter how hard Buck pushed noone answered. Even Nathan got the run around, very, very unusual.
Buck turned his attention back to JD, the kid held his knife poised to throw but hesitated, eyeing his older friend. "I don’t know kid, but lets say you and me find out." Buck quickly stood from his chair. He was tired of ruminating over the possibilities. He gazed down expectantly at JD who still remained seated. JD squinted back up at him, "you think thats smart Buck? Chris still seems pretty miffed about something."
"Yeah, but it’s been four days, he’s fine by now." With that Willimington hauled JD to his feet. "Trust ol’Buck he knows what he’s doing." Willimington added with confidence he did not feel. There was no way Buck was going to face Chris without JD. Larabee would never lash out with the kid present.
Ezra licked his dry lips again. ‘Allot of good that did,’ he thought. His tongue felt like it were made of wool. He picked up a pebble and popped it in his dry mouth. It stuck to his cheek. He worked it back and forth trying to stimulate saliva production. A trick an old slave had taught him as a boy. Good ole’Sam, always looking out after the young boy, no one else would. Standish smiled warmly at the memory, Ole’Sam was his first true friend and his last up until recently. Ezra smile turned into a chuckle, "wonder if Mr. Larabee is still seething?" He pondered the question and finally decided, ‘yes.’ Maybe Vin had been right, when he prevented Ezra from speaking his opinion about going to Junction City. Then Ezra realized he had not heard from Vin in quite awhile. Not that Ezra did not enjoy the repose from the dreadful same question, but the prolonged silence was unnerving. The southener stopped the horse with gentle pressure on the reins. He stared back at the tracker, who now leaned precariously in the saddle. "Mr. Tanner?" No response.
"Vin?" Ezra rested a hand on the tracker’s leg. Again no response.
"Vin?!" Standish spoke loudly shoving the leg trying to rouse the semi conscious man. It worked... to well.
Vin lashed out with his leg, a strangled yelp erupting from him as he suddenly sat up. Standish caught the well placed knee just under the chin. Lower teeth slammed against upper teeth pinching soft cheek tissue inbetween. The gambler stumbled back stepping wrong on his bad ankle. Pain radiated up his leg as the leg gave out and once again he fell backward landing hard on the sun dried clay, his hands flung out behind him to break his fall. A sudden shooting pain in his wrist almost matched the intense throb of his ankle but nothing equalled the misery of cut torn inner cheek muscles. He swallowed his pebble. ‘Oh wonderful.’ Standish closed his eyes wondering if this day could get any worse. At least now he had liquid in his mouth, albiet his own blood, but beggars could not be choosey. He silently prayed the pebble had no sharp edges.
"Ahh Mr. Tanner you have returned to us. Are you ok?" Ezra climbed to his feet slowly moving his sore wrist in a circular motion trying to work the pain out. Tanner stared down at Standish, and then fingered the cut and exceedingly large lump on his head, "whaa happn’d?" the slow drawl heavy and mummbled. Standish sighed, "You hit your head."
"Oh." Vin replied. Ezra bobbed his head up and down. Right where they left off. He took the canteen from the saddle, "you thirsty Mr. Tanner?" they had been through this before. They only had a bottom full of water left. Not much but they did not have far to go. Maybe another eight more miles. Vin did not respond vocally but merely stared at the gambler as if he had grown horns. "Here Vin drink some water." He raised the canteen up so the tracker could drink never letting it go afraid the one time nimble tracker would drop it. He pulled the wooden jug away after a few sips, "thats enough for now."
Ezra contemplated taking a drink himself. More than contemplated begged with himself to allow himself just one tiny sip. Just one sip, it would not hurt anything. Besides he cut his mouth he needed something to wash it out with, just one little sip. What harm could it do? It had become so hot, surly he could not allow himself to pass out from dehydration not out here, who would help them if he did? Ezra longingly gazed at the canteen as if he held gold. With more will power than he thought he possessed he recapped the container and put it back on the saddle.
Standish gathered up the reins and started off in the direction of home. ‘Never had a home before’, he mused then corrected himself. Good Ole’ Sam had almost been a home, but he was a slave, on his Uncle’s plantation. Ole’ Sam helped him create a nest of sorts in which the young boy found refuge and shelter and hid a few of his belongings. Almost a home. Four Corners had become a true home a place of safety. Well maybe safety, if Chris was not still stewing about last week.
With matching limps, horse and transient owner set off once again for Four Corners. Vin Tanner swayed precariously in the saddle and again in a soft confused voice, "What happened?" Ezra closed his eyes and shook his head. He was not going to answer that question again. A long silence and finally, "you hit your head." Standish shut his eyes beginning to dread the response.
"Huh."
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Chris peered up from his shot of whiskey as Buck hauled JD into the saloon by his collar. Larabee sighed he knew what Buck was upto. The man was so transparent sometimes no wonder Standish beat him so easily at cards. At the thought of the gambler, Larabee felt a sting of guilt. He had been a little unforgiving with the southerner but sometimes that damn fool took chances with his life that were not necessary. Almost as if he had a death wish, there were times when Chris wanted to oblige him, like last week. For that reason he sent Vin and Ezra to Junction City. Tanner would bare up just fine with the conman for another few days, but Larabee felt confident he would have probably shot the obstinate gambler by the second day if he had remained in town. That fool man sometimes drove him to drink.
"Hey Pard’. What ya doin’?" Buck asked as he slid into the chair across from his old friend. It forced JD to sit next to the leader of the seven. Dunne did nothing to hide his discomfort. He kept his gaze at his hands trying very hard to disappear from view.
Chris did not answer the question but merely gazed over at his boyhood friend. He would not make this easy for Buck. "So when do ya think Vin and Ezra will be back from Junction City?" Willimington fished hoping to break the ice. He got a noncommittal shrug from Larabee. Buck undaunted continued, "I figure they should be back today unless Ezra got himself into a card game." There it was, Buck saw it. A tiny flinch a cold spark in the icey eyes. Boy, Ezra really must have done something to piss him off. It had been four days and Chris was still angry.
Josiah and Nathan entered the saloon. The afternoon was just to hot to be working on the church. Despite his best efforts Nathan could not pry any information from the man beside him. Josiah had politely brushed off any inquiries about the trip the week before. Jackson did not normally try weedle information from others but the tight lipped behavior from the foursome drove him crazy. Something had happened, as always Ezra appeared to be at the bottom of it. All four men had returned battered cold and dirty. Only Standish sported bruises to his countenance. Nathan had tried to check him out but Ezra, as was typical, brushed him off. Still very much out of character Chris sent both Vin and Ezra back out on the trail. Neither man nor their horses were ready for such a grueling trip. The rain had not cooled the relentless summer heat. Instead the rain just beaded on the ground, forming small pools and partially filling watering holes. The heat remained the same, the water holes quickly dried back up. Nathan had wanted to approach Chris and recommend that he send Buck and JD or himself and Buck. Ezra and Vin definately needed rest. Surpringly Josiah had stopped him. Sanchez quietly but very strictly indicated it was for the best if Ezra and Vin left town for a few days. Nathan pelleted Josiah with questions but they fell on deaf ears.
The two physically imposing men entered the saloon. They paused slightly letting their eyes adjust to the dark interior. Buck and JD sat with Chris. Judging from Chris’s expression Buck must have brought up last week. Jackson sighed maybe he could figure out what was going on. Nathan smiled, not likely. The two friends pulled up chairs and joined the others. Nathan and Buck exchanged glances. They were going to get to the bottom of this mystery today. Buck motioned for Inez.
The young mexican beauty flashed a cocky smile. She grabbed a partial bottle of whiskey and shot glasses and made her way over to the table. She too had noticed something was amiss. Silently she prayed senor Standish would be ok. It seemed he had an uncanny ability to anger Larabee. She was trully fond of the southerner and wished no trouble befell him.
Ezra stared accusingly up at the sun. No clouds dotted the light blue sky. The sun glared down mercilessly, no trees offered shadey protection. Standish had finally tied his blue duck tailed coat around this head letting the rest drape over his back. It added some protection from the burning rays. If only his mother could see him now. She would admonish him serverly. Standish chuckled at the thought. He would gladly take on his mother if she had just a drop of water. Ezra licked his dry split lips again. He thought of the canteen, fixated on it. The horse limped painfully beside him. The bay’s long nose nearly dragged on the ground. It too had stopped sweating, it’s body unwilling to foolishly waste precious liquid. Standish peered over his shoulder at the tracker. Vin slumped forward in the saddle, his body swaying with the hitching gait of the poor horse. The canteen banged hollowly against the saddle. The gambler licked his lips again, just one sip, what would it hurt? "No." He had not meant to say it out loud. It was enough however to break the trance. He had to think of something else. Whiskey. Not much better, but Inez’s features floated into his mind and a dimpled smile creased his dust laddened face. His thoughts took on a whole new direction though whiskey and water played minor parts.
The horse stumbled. It nearly went down, pushing its head into Ezra’s legs knocking the unsteady gambler to the ground. Standish fell face first into the hard packed dirt. He lay there for the moment, breathing hard. It seemed to take all his energy just to fall, now he had to contemplate getting back up. Closing his eyes he and gritting his teeth he pushed himself to his hands and knees. He struggled to his feet, holding his left foot so only the toe barely touched the ground, he surveyed the horse.
The bay’s stance mirrored his own. It stood three legged lame, holding his right foot out and up nolonger placing any weight on it. The other three legs shook with excersion. It’s blazed face held close to the ground. The dark sorrel coat had become a light dusty grey as a result of the relentless wind. Guilt lanced the gambler’s soul. No animal should be used like this, put through it’s paces like this poor broken down beast. Ezra ignored the dropped reins and patted the animal’s neck comfortingly.
They were only three miles from town. The horse did not have three miles in it. Standish smiled sadly on any other day he would not have three miles in him either. Today he had to, Vin needed him to, somewhere deep down inside the Southerner had better find three miles or he would lose his friend, and he would surly lose his home in Four Corners. Three miles, anyone could walk three miles, right? It was a wager he had to win, Vin and home verse staying out in this. Ezra surveyed his bare surroundings, nothing but semi arid land, no trees, no people (save Vin) and no future. He could make town, he and Vin. The tracker would be able to do it as well as all the others. He would too, he would prove to himself and the others, especially Chris that he could overcome insurmountable odds and get one of the others to safety. Besides if he ever came home without Vin, Chris would kill him. Ezra chuckled dryly, if he ever came home without Vin, it would not only be Chris he had to face but the others and less importantly himself. That was something he did not relish, something he did not want to think about.
He had never quit, never run out on a gamble, and would not fold now. The Seminole village did not count, he mused , he had no stake in the others futures then, there was no gold in the mine. Now however, the six others had come to mean more to him than gold, well almost. Would he trade gold for their friendship? No, not today, not yesterday, but that day at the Seminole Village, yes. They had no worth to him then, nor he to them, but that had changed. The past two years they had given him something he had given up on long ago. Friendship and family. Now that he had it, felt what it was like to belong and to be missed, he would fight to keep it. He would take on anyone or anything that challenged his place with the other six.
With new determination he reached up and slowly slid the unconscious tracker from the saddle. He gently rested Vin on the ground and proceded to unsaddle the horse. With the tack somewhat hidden from view, he turned his attention back to the bounty hunter. With a groan he wrestled Tanner across his shoulders. Ezra adjusted the dead weight, grimacing as his injured ankle cried out in protest. He stared at the discarded canteen and the now unsaddled and unbridled horse. The poor beast had never moved. Standish had offered it the last of the water. It was not much but the run down horse had licked greedily as the gambler poured the small inadequate amount of water into the corner of its mouth. "I’ll come back for you girl, promise." The conman had whispered as he patted the horses neck. Again the soft billow of dust which rose from the animal was quickly wisped away by the dry wind. Standish had flipped the back of the coat over Vin, hoping to protect the bounty hunter somewhat from the slowly setting sun. He rolled his neck freeing the pinched skin, and started walking. Three miles. Anyone can walk three miles.
Josiah and Chris exchanged stares. Buck and Nathan had not given up. Even Inez leaned across the bar listening. JD had finally stopped staring at the floor and followed the conversation though one sided, between Buck, Nathan and the others. Finally Larabee sighed. This would not end until he and Josiah relented. Larabee turned and faced the barmaid. He silently wondered when Standish would pull his head out of his butt and admit his feelings to the senorita. The others noticed it he was sure, except maybe JD and Buck.
"Come on over Inez no since leaving anyone out." Josiah had spoken watching Larabee’s gaze. Buck pushed his chair out and slapped his lap lecherously, "you can sit here Senorita." Inez came from behind the bar and ‘accidently’ knocked a shot full of whiskey over onto Willimington’s lap as she pulled over another chair, "guess not senor, it’s all wet." Chuckles echoed around the table, even Buck smiled. He vowed he would find away around the barmaid’s defenses. Sanchez wondered when Willimington would realize her heart already belonged to a certain southern gambler.
Larabee nodded at Sanchez indicating the large preacher should begin the tale.
Ezra no longer tried to bring his head up. His neck and back muscles burned fiercely. His stomach churned, nausea rolled through him in waves. The sun had set. How long had he been walking? Three miles? No, he would have been in town by then. His right knee and hip ached with each step he favored his left ankle.
Tanner was not as light as he appeared. Vin had groaned a few times mummbled incoherently and then vomited. Standish was too tired to care. Vomit clung to his arm and leg, matching his boots. Ezra just hoped maybe it made Tanner lighter. Not that he felt any lighter but any little bit helped. Standish continued his marched. He never noticed the full moon that illuminated his path or the millions of stars that flickered in the black sky. All he saw was the ground immediately in front of him. Three miles, he could do three miles.
Buck and JD sat outside the sheriff’s office leaning back in their chairs. The night was cooling off quickly. Buck chuckled softly unable to stifle the building laugh. Dunne caught the infectious sound and joined in. Soon both men were wiping their eyes. "No wonder Chris made Ezra leave." Dunne finally managed to squeak out.
"Amazing he didn’t shoot’im right there. Reckon Ezra knows how lucky he is right about now?" Buck asked noone inparticular. JD firmly shook his head ‘no’.
Josiah, Nathan, and Chris still sat at the same table. Occasionally Jackson would break out into a spontaneous smile but then quickly squelch any laughter before it began. Chris eyed him critically. Nathan could not bring himself to look Larabee in the eye, nor trust his voice to talk, a chuckle seemed just behind sealed lips. The three men sat in silence. Inez unfortunately was not as successful and her sporadic laughter could be heard throughout the increasingly crowded saloon. "Go ahead yuck it up , Nathan. The darn fool could have killed himself and us as well." Sanchez uttered as he sipped his whiskey. Jackson nodded in agreement as he bit his lip forcing down another outburst.
Buck rubbed his eyes tiredly. He stood and stretched another small chuckle bubbled out. His sides hurt from laughing. He raised his arms over his head arching his back stretching. Something caught the gunslingers eye. A shadow more than anything. A form slowly fighting to take shape out of the inky blackness. At first he thought it was a drunken cowboy but as the form metamorphasized out of the night, it took on an all to familiar form. Buck dropped his large callused hand on JD’s shoulder. Dunne had seen it too. "Oh my God it’s Ezra and Vin." He whispered not quite believing the hunched staggering form to be a combined sillhoutte of his two friends. "Go get the others." Buck whispered shoving his young friend in the direction of the saloon. He quickly jogged to intercept Standish.