Counting the Cost by Tree Climber

This story is a deathfic (of sorts) and a sequel to Cobalt's Consequence, which needs to be read first. My thanks to Judy for all your encouragement and for beta-ing this story and to Cobalt for reading it as well.

Size: Approx 110K

The folks living in Four Corners, New Mexico Territory don't know it yet, but their dirty little backwater town is dying. It will take time, but it is inevitable, and it will be painful -- I've seen to that. It was never my intention for this to happen -- I would have been happy to just cause them some discomfort -- but when the opportunity arose, I didn't think twice.

What I've done is wrong -- legal, but wrong, and I know that -- of course I do. But what they did was wrong, too. Two wrongs may not make a right, but mine will certainly balance the equation. It won't bring back my boy or Vin -- nothing can -- they saw to that, but one thing is certain -- no matter what they do in the future and no matter where they go, they will never, ever, forget the great wrong they perpetrated here.

One could argue that what I am doing will harm innocent and guilty alike, and I suppose that is correct to some degree. There are children who will face changes in their lives because of my actions; however, those changes are really due to their parents' inactions. These so-called God-fearing citizens of Four Corners stood by and did nothing while two decent men who risked their lives on their behalf were ignominiously hanged, and as far as I'm concerned, that makes them guilty, too. As for me, when I leave here, there will be no remorse and no regrets about what I have done.

It's hard to believe that less than a month ago, I was a happy woman, a woman without a care in the world. Over the last few years, I've become quite prosperous and more or less permanently based in San Francisco, and my relationship with my son was improving all the time. As a matter of fact, I was looking forward to visiting Four Corners in a few weeks while the weather still permitted travel. It would have been my first chance to celebrate Ezra's birthday in years.

I was going to give him an elegant pair of gold cuff links I'd won in a poker game, and I had a heavy silk bandana with a kind of paisley design for Vin -- that young man had a collection of bandanas like you wouldn't believe. You see, Ezra had written that he had suddenly realized they'd never celebrated Vin's birthday, so he asked him when it was. Vin admitted he didn't know when his real birthday was, and he jokingly suggested they celebrate it the same time as Ezra's, at least privately, saying if the day was good enough for Ezra, then it was good enough for him.

Anyways, I was involved in a most lucrative game of poker in the hotel I own when the clerk approached and handed me the telegram from Inez. I opened it, and the words cut through me like a knife -- Ezra and Vin dead stop Hanged three days ago stop Wait for information stop. Dear God! Ezra -- my son, my sweet boy -- was dead along with his lover Vin Tanner! Years of hiding my emotions, of playing a role, came to my assistance, though, and allowed me to finish the hand -- which I won -- with no one the wiser. I excused myself and retreated to my suite where I finally allowed grief to overwhelm me.

I read that wire again and again. I've always trusted Inez, so I did as she said. Hard as it was, I really had no other choice. The wait seemed endless, but in reality it was only four days. The whole time, I speculated about what could have happened. That terse telegram told me enough to know the nature of Ezra and Vin's relationship had been discovered, but how? They were so cautious, so careful, they'd kept the secret for three years with no one the wiser. And where were their friends -- Chris, Buck, Nathan, Josiah, and JD -- the men who'd been like family for four long years? I was tormented by thoughts of them being hurt or wounded trying to save my Ezra and Vin.

My son wrote the most wonderful letters, even when our relationship was strained, and over the years, I saved some of the more interesting ones. I don't know why, but after he arrived in Four Corners, I began saving all of his letters. I am not a sentimental person, but those letters provided me a modicum of comfort while I waited to learn how my son died.

What I finally received was a long missive from Inez and Gloria Potter, who runs the general store in Four Corners. They told me everything -- every single detail of the ultimate betrayal by the five peacekeepers Ezra and Vin had called their friends, their brothers. They also sent me the disgusting flyer Mary Travis wrote about the whole affair and her part in it.

Poor Inez! She felt so guilty -- blaming herself for everything that happened. She'd been in the storeroom when Mary Travis went upstairs looking for Ezra. Otherwise, knowing Vin was already up there, she would have intercepted her. Inez is an intelligent, observant woman, and as manager of the saloon, she couldn't help but discover the truth, but she liked my son and was glad to see his happiness.

As bad as I already felt, Mary Travis' flyer made me feel even worse. It was she who discovered the truth about Ezra and Vin by peering through the keyhole in the door of Ezra's room. It was a lowdown, sneaky thing she had no business doing, but what made me feel so bad was that she wouldn't have seen anything if it hadn't been for something Ezra did. You see, whenever Ezra locked a door, he had the habit of removing the key and putting it in his vest pocket. I told him over and over again that if there was a fire or something in the night, he wouldn't want to be hunting around for the key so he could get away, and for awhile, he would remember and leave it in the lock. But he always reverted to that habit. If only he'd left the damned key in the door, Mary wouldn't have seen anything. If only . . .

So Inez wrote about Mary running down the stairs and throwing herself at Chris Larabee, babbling incoherently about Ezra, Vin, and vile perversions -- Chris exploding with rage, snarling, and storming upstairs trailed by Buck and Josiah -- the noise of a door being broken down and yelling -- Buck dragging Vin and Josiah dragging Ezra half-dressed down the stairs and outside. Gloria described them being shoved down the street and over to the jail -- the news spreading like wildfire. Then came the sideshow and the steady stream of townspeople parading through the jail to taunt, spit at, and revile the perverted freaks.

Inez kept her head, though, and she went straight up to Ezra's room. She gathered up all the papers, account books -- anything that looked important -- and took them to her own room. Good thing she did, too, because Chris returned later and tore the room apart. She said he was like a wild man, and afterwards, he sat for hours drinking and ranting that this crime had to be handled by the town right away -- waiting for the judge would only waste time and change nothing. No one dared to disagree, to stand against him, to speak for two good men.

Gloria tried to send a telegram to Judge Travis to let him know what was going on. She knew that if the judge ordered the peacekeepers to stop and wait for him, they'd have to obey, and once word got around town, people wouldn't be joining any lynch mob. But the telegram never got through -- the telegraph wires were down somewhere between Four Corners and wherever the judge was, and he never got the message.

They didn't even build a gallows -- another waste of time according to Chris. It was Chris himself who nailed up a board to hold the nooses -- a board that's still in place today. Gloria and Inez huddled together, watching, that morning as events unfolded, and they described everything for me. They were there when Ezra was buried, and they watched Chris, Buck, and Josiah ride off with Vin's body to claim the bounty in Tascosa. They managed to get Vin's wagon moved behind Gloria's store to protect his meager possessions -- there'd been some talk of burning it.

After reading the letter and the flyer, I wanted to scream, to tear my hair, to hit someone, but I have never been one for excessive displays of emotion, so I did none of those things. People who knew me in the past would have been surprised at the way I felt -- I had not been the best of mothers, and for years, my relationship with my son had been cool.

That all changed when Ezra settled in Four Corners. His life became quite different from what it had been, and after I visited him the first time, so too did our relationship. He gradually acquired qualities that had been missing from his life -- qualities I had purposely omitted from his upbringing. His fellow peacekeepers and his commitment to this town were responsible for much of this. For the first time, he had friends who cared about him, and more importantly, he came to care about other people, about their lives and feelings. Loyalty and friendship were added to his character, but it was his union with Vin Tanner that brought the greatest changes. They say that love conquers all, and in Ezra's case, it was certainly true. Honor, integrity, and honesty were central to Vin's being, and he passed them on to my son. These newfound qualities changed our relationship for the better -- I'm not sure why -- but I thank Vin for that.

Don't get me wrong -- I didn't understand many of these changes in my son. How could he be developing a conscience after all these years? I have always lived by my wits, taking advantage of the gullibility and greed of others, and I taught my son to do the same thing. Look out for yourself first was what I taught him -- care for others and you'll be vulnerable. That's turned out to be true, but much as I hate to admit it, when Ezra ignored my teachings, he attained a level of happiness such as he'd never known, and I'm glad he did.

I also taught him the importance of money and how to enjoy the finer things money can bring. Imagine my surprise when his choice of a life partner was a scruffy frontiersman who had very little use for money, a man who would lay down his life for a stranger in need with no thought of what he might gain. Ezra didn't always understand some of the things Vin believed or did, but he honored them because he loved the man who embodied them.

My anger at Chris, at Mary, at all the rest of them, surpassed my grief, and I began to think about revenge. They stole all the years of happiness Ezra and Vin could have shared -- all the years I could have shared with them -- and they had no right to do that.

Inez wanted to leave town and asked me what to do about the saloon, which had been closed since the hangings. Gloria wrote that she was so disgusted, so ashamed of the town, she would leave as well, if only she could sell the store and get the money she'd need to start over someplace else. They'd broken the news to Nettie Wells, who was so devastated by Vin's death that she would have gone gunning for Chris herself if it wouldn't have left her niece Casey all alone. They were all so angry their words practically blazed off the paper, but at the same time, they were hurt and confused. How, they asked, could Chris turn against Vin and Ezra -- especially Vin -- so completely? Why wouldn't Chris wait for the judge? Why did Chris and the others have to act as judge, jury, and executioners? So many questions they had no answers to.

But I did! I held the missing piece of the puzzle -- I knew the truth. Oh yes, I knew because Vin told me during my last visit -- told me that Chris Larabee wanted my Ezra. He said there'd been a fleeting look -- just a flash -- some months ago, but he thought Chris was fighting it, was denying his feelings. But then Vin said something else happened in the saloon late one night not long before we talked. He couldn't remember how the subject came up, but Chris asked the men what they would do if the day ever came again when the seven broke up. I don't know what the others said, but Vin said he'd go back to Tascosa and try to clear his name, and my son said he'd head for San Francisco. Chris said he thought going to the city was a good idea and maybe he'd just tag along.

Of course, Ezra and Vin had no intention of going where they'd said. Wherever they went, it would be together, and these answers were simply misdirection they'd already agreed upon just in case they had to leave suddenly. They wouldn't go to San Francisco because, for one thing, I was there, and the improving relationship with Ezra notwithstanding, the city simply wasn't big enough for the both of us. More importantly, my son knew what the city would do to Vin -- the mass of people, the noise, and the commotion would drain the life right out of him. I'm pretty sure, too, that Vin wouldn't return to Texas, much as he wanted to. I think he realized too much time had passed, it was just too dangerous, and he didn't want to take the chance of losing his happiness with Ezra.

Something about Chris that night -- the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes, the way he said he might go with Ezra -- something made Vin suspicious again, and he began to watch him. He was relieved, though, when he didn't see any further signs that Chris had feelings for Ezra. After he told me, I tried to see if I could detect anything myself, but if there were any signals, they were so subtle I couldn't see them. I asked Vin if he was going to tell Ezra, and he said no. He believed Chris had finally recovered enough from the loss of his wife and son that he was once again looking for love, and as long as there was no encouragement from Ezra, sooner or later Chris would come to his senses. Lord help me, I agreed -- neither of us recognizing that Chris Larabee had developed a very dangerous obsession.

Ezra's habit contributed to their deaths; Vin and I not telling Ezra about Chris probably contributed to their deaths; but Chris, Mary, and the others were the ones who put the ropes around their necks and murdered them, and I became determined they had to pay. The towering flames of my anger were replaced by white-hot embers that retained the heat and allowed my mind to function with total clarity. An idea was born, and I gradually started to develop a plan.

I wrote to Inez and Gloria telling them when I would be arriving. I also told Inez to open the saloon again and let everyone know it was my order -- after all, I was known to be something of a cold-hearted businesswoman. I asked them to say and do nothing out of the ordinary until I talked with them. I asked them to contact Nettie Wells and let her know I was on my way. I made certain arrangements, secured funds, bought mourning clothes, packed a bag, and set out on the journey that would eventually bring me face to face with my son's murderers.

I knew I had to talk with Judge Travis -- surely what had happened was against the law -- and I wanted to know what he was going to do about it. I sent him a telegram, and he agreed to see me in his Santa Fe office, so I made that my first stop.

I'd met the judge once before, so he recognized me when I arrived a few days later. He offered the standard condolences and said he understood my need to visit Four Corners; however, he said he didn't understand why I wanted to see him. Imagine our mutual shock when we discovered that he had not been told the whole truth about the hangings! His daughter-in-law had sent him a telegram saying simply that there had been an incident, that Ezra and Vin had died, and that the situation had been resolved, so his presence was not required. While he had been saddened by the news, he was in the middle of a major trial and saw no reason to pursue the issue any further.

Silently, I handed him the letter from Inez and Gloria and Mary's flyer. As he read, I could see him becoming more and more livid. He finally threw the papers down on his desk and exploded. How could they do something so heinous? How could they expect to get away with it? The questions fairly flew from his mouth as he loosed his anger. Two things Mary wrote in her flyer especially angered him, and he pointed them out to me with a shaking finger.

She expressed her pride in how the town had 'come together to eliminate particularly evil examples of the bad element that can so easily take over a frontier community,' as she put it. He wanted to know how she'd forgotten that adherence to the rule of law was the true mark of civilization and that it was the forces of lawlessness that had cost her husband his life. Judge Travis found it totally incomprehensible that the town treated two of its faithful peacekeepers worse than a bank robber or common murderer, no matter what they'd done.

He was most appalled, however, by her statement that she could 'only hope and pray that no lasting damage' had been done to her son Billy by her 'allowing him to spend so much time with those perverted animals Ezra Standish and Vin Tanner.' He said Billy often talked about spending time with them, the fun he had and the things he learned, and he just couldn't understand Mary's attitude.

I told him I didn't understand either. During my last visit, I had several conversations with Vin, and one of the things he said was that Mary once told someone he knew to grab a chance at happiness when it came along. He'd even hoped Mary would be an ally if the worst happened, but I cautioned him against confiding in her or letting down his guard around her. Turned out I was right, didn't it, and she was kind of selective in who she thought deserved happiness.

The judge and I talked for almost two hours. I told him some of my plans but not everything because I knew he would not approve. I told him when I was going to be there, so he checked his schedule and found he would be free a couple of days before the end of my stay. I promised to send for him if my main idea came to fruition, and we parted amicably, both agreeing something had to be done.

I left Santa Fe the next day, and after two more stops, I finally arrived in Four Corners -- that was five days ago. I stepped off the afternoon stage dressed in a black bombazine gown with a small black lace and feather hat upon my head, already immersed in the role I would play in public -- that of a bereaved mother come to visit the grave of her tragically lost son.

The first person I encountered was Josiah Sanchez. He rushed up and clasped my hand, all sympathy and solicitude, and it was all I could do to tolerate his touch. He was uttering all the usual platitudes and telling me he understood and shared my sorrow. He also said there were things I needed to know about Ezra's death, so I suggested accompanying me to the hotel.

He carried my bag -- only one for this visit. I didn't need much this time, and there's no one I wanted to impress, so there were no bags filled with bricks as there were on my first visit to this town. Much as being in Josiah's presence disgusted me, I had a role to play, so we sat in the lobby while he attempted to justify what had happened. Oh, he knew I'd be talking to Inez, but he couldn't know what she would say. Maybe he even thought she accepted the deaths, and of course, he had no way of knowing that I already knew the truth.

He again offered sympathy and condolences and spoke of what fine men Ezra and Vin had been at one time, but then he slowly began to talk about how they had been tempted by Satan and had fallen into grievous sin. He quoted the Bible and said the town had had no choice but to carry out the punishment decreed by God. He said he understood the shame I must be feeling, knowing my son had been seduced into perversion, and he suggested it was all Vin's fault, saying he must have learned such behavior from the Kiowa and Comanche heathens he'd lived with.

If I'd been Vin Tanner's mother, I'm sure Josiah would have been telling me it was Ezra who was to blame. The more he talked, the angrier I became. My hand itched to slap him, to knock that smug expression off his hypocritical face. How dare he suggest I should be ashamed of my son! I kept my own expression under control, however, and even conjured up a few tears. When he started to repeat himself, I thanked him for his consideration and said I was tired and needed to rest. He got the message and took his leave.

I'd sent a telegram to engage the 'Presidential Suite' -- as I dubbed it during my brief stint as owner of the hotel -- because I wanted people to know I was coming to town. Inez could have prepared a room for me at the saloon, but I preferred a more private setting so I could carry out certain meetings. I was the joker -- the wild card -- in the deck, and I wanted people to wonder just what I had in mind.

It's been five days since I arrived. During those five days, I met with Inez at the saloon, always under the eye of one or another of the peacekeepers. I walked around town, and a few people approached me to tell me their feelings about Ezra and Vin and their deaths. Most people, though, tended to avoid me, often crossing the street when they saw me coming. Inez took me to see Ezra's grave, and it looked so lonely in that bleak, windswept cemetery. I met with Inez, Gloria, and Nettie, and we made certain plans, certain arrangements.

Mary Travis came to see me about the possibility of holding a kind of memorial or remembrance meeting on Sunday, and I almost laughed. A word from Inez here, a hint from Gloria there, and she never knew she was being manipulated. She said Vin and Ezra should be remembered for their years of service to the town and not for the circumstances under which they died. A town meeting in their honor would allow everyone to move on and put the 'unfortunate incident,' as she called it, behind them. She probably thought such a meeting would ease my mind so I could leave town following it, and she would be absolutely correct but not quite in the way she expects.

I told her the meeting would be a good idea and offered to help her make arrangements. She said she would talk to Josiah about using the church and then put a notice in the newspaper so everyone would know. I thanked her for her thoughtfulness and never let on that being in her presence made my skin crawl. The notice appeared the next day, and Inez reported that Chris was very upset when he read it. Of course! He has the most to lose and wants the whole thing swept under the rug.

Nettie told me of her worries about Casey. The young woman is so very confused -- she's mourning for Vin, who was like a big brother or uncle to her, while at the same time, she loves JD and has for a long time. Nettie will leave Four Corners, but she doesn't want to overly influence her niece or make her leave if she doesn't really want to. She wants Casey to decide for herself -- go with Nettie or stay with JD -- so there are certain things about what happened that she hasn't been told, but they will come out at today's meeting, and she will have to make up her mind.

There's a knock at the door, and I open it to find Judge Travis and an unknown woman standing there. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees me, but he doesn't say anything. He introduces the woman as his wife and says she has things to take care of, so she will not be attending the meeting. He offers me his arm, and we begin the short walk to the church. My mouth is dry, and there are butterflies in my stomach, but I know my nervousness doesn't show outwardly, and it won't -- I won't allow it to.

There are a couple of people ahead of us walking towards the church, but I'm sure most of the town is already there -- they'd want to be sure of getting a good seat. Mr. Caldwell is standing outside the church smoking a cigar. He's a small fussy man who affects a pince-nez -- the perfect image of a banker, which is exactly what he is.

He was very kind to me when I went to the bank to see about Ezra's accounts. He said he and Ezra used to discuss books, theatre, and other cultural things they both missed while living in this town. He never played cards with my son, although he would have liked to -- people would never trust a banker who was seen gambling. He asked me if I knew Vin had an account, and I told him I didn't. He said Mary Travis had been sniffing around, trying to find out if Vin had any money the town could confiscate, but he’d put her off by talking about court orders and things like that. I could tell he was upset by what had happened to Ezra and Vin, so I showed him a paper Gloria and I found in Vin's wagon. It simply said 'If anything happens to me, I want Ezra Standish to have all my things.' Mr. Caldwell said it was good enough for him, and he gave me Vin's money. I assured him it would be put to good use, and it will.

Now, he finishes his smoke and opens the door of the church for the judge and me. There is quite a stir when we enter. No one expected Judge Travis to be present, so they are very surprised to see him -- even his daughter-in-law looks astonished. I think my own appearance causes some of the gasps as well. You see, during the whole of my stay till then, I wore unrelieved black, appropriate for the role I was playing. Today, however, I am wearing red -- the same red as Ezra's favorite jacket -- as befits my role of avenger.

I look around quickly as we walk down the aisle, and I'm relieved that all the key players are present -- both those who are there to support me in my quest for justice and those I -- we -- are seeking to punish. The church is packed, every pew filled; extra chairs have been brought in, and many people are standing along the walls and at the back. Almost every adult in town must be present. The judge and I take our seats, and it's time for this drama to begin.

Josiah Sanchez rises and moves to the pulpit. He tells us we are there to remember -- to celebrate -- the lives of Ezra Standish and Vin Tanner. Two men, he says, who gave years of good and faithful service to the community, only to have it snatched away when they gave in to temptation and sin. He then recites the Lord's Prayer, with others joining in, and I wonder they do not choke on the words. 'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us' -- well, they certainly didn't forgive my son and Vin, and I am not about to forgive them.

Josiah asks if there is anyone who would like to share his or her memories of the 'deceased' and looks at those of us in the front pews. Instead of one of us, though, an older man near the back rises.

"Name's Abner Frye," he says. "I got me a small spread outside o' Morgan's Crossing. 'Bout a year and a half back, I had me a problem with a big cat that was takin' some o' my calves. Hands and me had no luck goin' after 'im -- that was one smart critter. Anyways, I heard 'bout the tracker here in Four Corners, and I wired tryin' ta hire 'im. Said I'd pay 'im ten dollars ta kill that there cat and give 'im room and board whilst he was huntin'. Coupla days later, Vin Tanner shows up, says he'll start right away. So I had one o' my hands take 'im out where the cat took its last calf. 'Bout three hours later, I seen 'em comin' back in, and I figgered they was headin' back fer the night fer supper." He's chuckling as he continues. "My eyes damn near bugged outta my head when I seen the pelt draped over his horse -- already had the job done." He's shaking his head. "Talked 'im inta havin' supper and stayin' fer the night, but in the mornin', he'd only take five dollars -- said that's all the job was worth. Vin Tanner was a honest man -- I's right sorry ta hear he died." He sits down.

How typical of Vin! I think, and I remember one of Ezra's letters from back then when he mentioned how lonely he'd been while Vin was out of town for a couple of days. I wonder if Mr. Frye knows the circumstances of how Vin died.

A young man is standing now. He says he and his wife have a small farm not far from town, and they've been struggling to make ends meet. He recounts how they came to town one day to get supplies, and while his wife shopped, he went to the saloon for a drink. He says he knew it was wrong, but he let himself get lured into a card game and lost all his money.

"I accused one of the men of cheatin', and he jist laughed -- said I shoulda knowed better. Said if'n I couldn't afford ta lose, I shouldn't play. That's when this Southerner stood up from the next table and said the man had been cheatin' and needed ta give my money back -- needed ta give everybody his money back and then git outta town. Fella jist laughed agin and went fer 'is gun. Woowee! Never saw that Southerner move, but next thing I knowed, he had his gun out and pointin' smack-dab at that feller's head. Told alla us ta take our money back and then turned that there cheater over ta the sheriff so he could be escorted outta town."

He pauses for a moment and then explains how the Southerner took him aside and told him the cheater was right. "Said not ev'ry big winner cheated, so I oughta jist not play if'n I wasn't ready ta lose." He's nodding, and the woman beside him reaches up to take his hand. "Ain't played since," he says proudly. "Found out that Southerner was Ezra Standish, and that's why we're here. Real shame he's dead," he finishes and sits down.

Josiah asks if anyone else has anything to say, and it's obvious none of the peacekeepers is anxious to jump up and say anything nice about the men they killed, so I think it's time for me to step in. I gesture to Josiah, and he introduces me to the crowd. I walk to the pulpit, which he doesn't expect, but he relinquishes his place and sits down in the front pew next to the judge. Gloria and Nettie nod encouragement, and I take a deep breath. The butterflies in my stomach have disappeared, and I am ready -- time for these folks to hear some home truths.

"I probably was not a good mother. When Ezra was very young, I saw him as a burden, but he was my son -- my only child -- and I loved him. I may have expressed it poorly, but I did . . . do love him. I always tried to do what was best for him, even when I knew he wouldn't understand what I was trying to do -- all I ever wanted was his happiness. As he got older, I came to see him as an asset and began to teach him how to get by in my world. He was a good student -- a very fast learner -- and soon we were full-fledged partners. I came to truly appreciate his abilities, but by that time, it was too late. He decided to go out on his own and left me behind."

I pause for a moment, feeling again the hurt I'd felt then when I read the note he'd left behind. "He kept in touch, for which I was grateful, so no matter where we were or what we were doing, we both knew there was someone out there we were connected to. We never were a conventional family, and we never led conventional lives, living by our wits as we did. And then four years ago, my son drifted into this town. Almost at once, his letters changed. Oh, he kept complaining about how hard his life was, being stuck here -- how this town lacked cultural attractions -- but I noticed that certain names kept showing up in his letters. Gradually, he revealed the happiness he'd discovered since coming to this town. He found a home with six friends he felt privileged to know, and he found a sense of purpose in his life. He fought it -- fought it hard -- but I understood just how much he was coming to appreciate having his skills put to good use."

All eyes are firmly fixed on me except for one pair -- Chris Larabee is staring straight ahead, looking bored. I smile because I know I'll soon have his attention, too.

"And then, about six or seven months after he became one of your peacekeepers, I started to see the name of one of his friends -- Vin Tanner -- appear more and more frequently in his letters. I'd visited Ezra a few times, but when I came for a visit almost three years ago, I realized something was very different -- my son was very different. A couple of days after I arrived, Ezra came to my hotel room, bringing Vin with him, and told me they were lovers."

There are gasps and shocked looks all around the room, and Chris finally looks -- no, glares -- at me.

"Oh yes," I continue, "I knew of his preference for men -- he'd told me when he was seventeen, shortly before he left. I'd warned him how hard such a life would be, but I did not condemn him -- I didn't have that right, and I couldn't shut him out of my life because of what he told me -- as I said before, all I wanted by then was his happiness."

If anything, there are even more shocked expressions than before, but I refuse to let them deter me. I really don't care what these people -- or any others, for that matter -- think about me.

"I imagine you're surprised to hear that my son and Vin were lovers for the last three years. Did you think that day they were discovered together was their first time?" I ask contemptuously. "For three years, they risked their lives to protect all of you -- shed their blood for all of you -- and all that time, they were loving each other, and none of you knew." Anger is creeping into my voice, but I force it back. Now is not the time to give free rein to what I really feel -- now is the time to make these people uncomfortable, make them face up to their responsibility for what they did.

I look around the room and continue. "I don't know most of you -- have never seen you before and will probably never see you again, but many of you were involved in these deaths, either directly or indirectly, and I have so many questions, so many things I need to understand."

I ask if David MacGregor is present, and a burly, bearded man of about forty stands up in the middle of the room.

"I understand you were there, Mr. MacGregor, cheering and expressing your outrage."

"Aye, that I was," he acknowledges. "Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am -- I know one of 'em was yer son -- but them boys was sick, and sometimes ya jist gotta put a sick animal outta its misery," he says. I see quite a few heads around the room nodding in agreement.

"I suppose that's true," I say slowly. "By the way, how is your Lucy -- she's about eight, isn't she?"

He's clearly puzzled by my questions. "Yes, and she's jist fine. Why'd ya ask?"

"Oh, I was just thinking back to last winter when she was so ill." He clenches and unclenches his hands -- he knows what I'm going to say. "You were scared to death you were going to lose her because Mr. Jackson didn't have the medicine he needed to save her life. I seem to remember Ezra and Vin taking it into their heads to do something and riding through the night, through a bitter snowstorm, to Eagle Bend to get that medicine. Everyone thought they were crazy -- heavens, Ezra said they must have been crazy! -- but they did it." The man can no longer meet my eyes. "I hope that tonight, when you tuck her into bed, you thank God for sparing Lucy's life, and I hope you give a thought to the two men who helped Him because you sure have a short memory and a strange way of showing your gratitude." He drops into his chair and props his elbows on his knees, his head falling into his hands. The woman beside him -- his wife, I assume -- leans against him and puts her arm around his shoulders. She is crying, and I hope that every time they look at their little girl they remember what they did -- or rather, what they didn't do.

"How many of the rest of you conveniently forgot what you owed my son and Vin so you could enjoy the spectacle, the excitement, of the hangings?" I ask and watch as people squirm in their seats or hang their heads.

"Some of you were closer to Ezra and Vin in life, and you are also the ones who were more directly responsible for their deaths." I pick out the six people I hold most responsible for what happened and try to make eye contact with each one before speaking again. Buck, Chris, Josiah, and Mary Travis stare straight at me, but JD and Nathan have trouble meeting my eyes. They all -- the whole town -- must come to understand the enormity of what they have done, and I intend to see that they do.

"Mrs. Travis, I read what you wrote after it was over -- all the self-righteous, sanctimonious outrage you expressed." I hear the disgust in my voice and see Mary purse her lips. I take a calming breath before continuing. "Vin said that when you taught him to read and write, you gave him a gift that would never wear out or be lost -- a gift that could never be taken away from him. Do you know how much he respected you and your mind? You should -- he made a poem for you about it, didn't he? So, why did you do what you did? You knew a husband's love once, and I imagine you hope to again. Why would you deny Ezra and Vin the love they felt for each other? What did it have to do with you? They weren't harming you -- all they ever did was try to help you. When you were abducted by that Wickes character, they were there to help rescue you." I smile to myself remembering Ezra's indignant description of wearing a dress. "When your husband's killers threatened your son, they were there to protect him." I know about that firsthand because I was here when it happened, and I played a small part. "Why didn't you just tell them to get out of town? They would have done it -- they always knew they might have to do just that. Why make them forfeit their lives?" I watch as she hangs her head and know she cannot answer.

"John Dunne . . . JD, you're the sheriff -- the embodiment of law, order, and justice for this town. How could you hang them without a trial or without contacting Judge Travis? They were your friends! Do you know how proud Vin was of you and how you learned to track, how proud he was of the fine man he said you'd become?" JD raises his head at that and looks at me. "My Ezra was looking forward to your marrying Casey, settling down, and having a family. He said you'd be an important asset for this town and its future. You could have used the power of your badge -- why didn't you? It was your hand that struck the horse and killed my son -- your hand." I am distracted for a moment wondering where Chaucer and Peso are now. I hope they're still running free and are together as I'm sure their owners are. I return to the present and continue. "Why -- why did you do it? And when it was all over and they were dead, you didn't even have the decency to notify me -- that was left to Inez." I see the torment in his eyes before he looks away again. I hope the memory of that moment is never far from his mind for the rest of his life.

"And what about you, Mr. Wilmington? Ezra and Vin saved your life on more than one occasion." He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up my hand to forestall him. "Yes, I know -- you saved their lives, too. So why not this time? You could have insisted that they be run out of town and let them keep their lives, but you didn't. Why? Why were you so adamant they had to die?" He glances at Chris Larabee, and I can almost hear what he's thinking, but we'll get to that in a little while. "There's something worse, though, for which I can never forgive you." Buck looks startled. What could be worse than his role in my son's death? "That night, when they were in a jail cell, Mrs. Potter offered to get Ezra some paper so he could write a farewell letter to me, and you just laughed and said no, said he didn't deserve it." Now he's leaning over staring at the floor. "You denied me my son's last words -- denied me the comfort they could have brought me over the years to come. Oh, I do have old letters, but I don't have his last thoughts. Ezra always talked about your generosity, your big heart, your compassion -- where were those qualities that night? Where were they the next day?"

"Mr. Jackson," I begin and shake my head. "I simply cannot fathom your role in all of this. You're a healer, a man who selflessly cares for others. Yet you stood by and did nothing while two of your friends were killed. One of those men was one of the first to step forward and try to save your own life when those drunken cowboys wanted to lynch you, and this is how you repaid him. They were there to help you protect the woman you love, but you ignored that, didn't you? And when your father was accused of murder, they helped save his life and get the fair trial he wanted. Because of them, you were able to share the last few months of his life. Why, Mr. Jackson? Why did you forsake them when they needed you most?"

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