Spoilers: woven through the episode "Witness"
Summary: Maude's first visit to Four Corners
Pairinga: Chris/Vin implied, Maude/Josiah, Maude/OMC
Rating: FRAO
Warnings: implied slash, apparent het
Author's Note: this is a continuation of the Weaving series, and follows JD's POV story, Lust or Love. Special thanks to my wonderful wonderful betas, Marnie and Estee!!!
"Perseverance is sometimes but another word for self-reliance. Many persons naturally look on the dark side of life, and borrow trouble. They are born so. Then they ask for advice, and they will be governed by one wind and blown by another, and cannot rely upon themselves. Until you can get so that you can rely upon yourself, you need not expect to succeed. I have known men, personally, who have met with pecuniary reverses, and absolutely committed suicide, because they thought they could never overcome their misfortune. But I have known others who have met more serious financial difficulties, and have bridged them over by simple perseverance, aided by a firm belief that they were doing justly, and that Providence would "overcome evil with good." You will see this illustrated in any sphere of life." P.T Barnum, The Art of Getting Money (1880)It was a sweet little town, Maude thought as she settled herself at one of the saloon's tables, placing her purse carefully and daintily beside her. Sweeter than Ezra was at the moment; her boy was pretending to be concerned, of course, but he was disgruntled at her surprise visit.
She smiled, opening up her cloth bag to withdraw the ever-present deck of cards- a new one for a new town, of course.
Ezra was off somewhere sulking, she suspected, annoyed with her for disrupting his life.
But she had needed to leave St. Louis, and a small town in the middle of nowhere, where no one knew her or Marcus seemed the perfect thing. Spending a little time with her son was just a bonus.
Especially if it annoyed him.
"Is this seat taken?"
She looked up to find a very tall man standing nearby, and holding two glasses. She smiled at him, her most winning, and said, "Why, no, kind sir, it is not - please, join me."
He half bowed, a gesture that actually surprised her. In this backwater, she had hardly expected to find anyone with manners.
Even more of a surprise was when he set one of the glasses before her. "Malcolm, the bartender, told me that you had ordered a mint julep. He was out of mint, but as it happens, I have a small patch growing behind the church, and a little sugar water left over from - another time, so we were able to concoct at least the one."
Maude looked at the glass, then at her benefactor who was settling in the chair beside her. "Why, I am overwhelmed by your kindness, Mister - "
"Sanchez," he smiled at her, his large teeth prominent but all present. "Josiah, if you please."
"Josiah," she lifted her glass in a salute. "To your health."
"With a fine lady such as yourself in residence, my health is certainly looking better, Mrs. Standish." He took a drink of his beer.
The drink wasn't as smooth as the ones she was accustomed to, but it was passable, and something she suspected she should covet here. She wasn't coquettish though; she'd given up playing the 'shy debutante' long before her girlhood was over. She took a decent sip, letting the liquid roll around in her mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.
With a little sigh of delight, she turned her attention to her companion. "Well, sir, if I am to have the honor of addressing you as 'Josiah', the least you can do is call me Maude. I gather that you know my son?"
"Indeed, Ezra is a delight to us all," Sanchez said, but he did smile.
Maude laughed. "Yes, I suspect that he is that!" She set her drink aside and reached for the cards. "Do you partake of games of chance, Josiah?"
His blue-grey eyes seemed to sparkle a little as he said, "Why, Maude, if it would extend the pleasure of your company, I would be most pleased to enjoy a few rounds of sport with you."
She glanced at him, arching one eyebrow at his choice of words, and getting an arched eyebrow in return. Subtle, she thought, but a gentleman. Nothing crude or inappropriate, but clear in the double entendre. A man of some education as well.
"You must be the preacher," she said as she shuffled the cards, and was rewarded with the surprise that rippled across his strong features. "Ezra has written me a bit about this lovely town, and about his friends - oh, he doesn't refer to you all in that way, of course; but a mother can read between the lines."
"I must say, I find it difficult to believe that a charming woman such as yourself could have a son as old as our Ezra." He was watching her face, she knew, and despite herself, she blushed. "So what sorts of things has he said about us? I need to know what rumors I'll have to put to rest."
She looked up at him as she put the deck back on the table. "Care to cut the cards?"
He waved one hand dismissively. "Perhaps next time."
She took back the deck and started dealing. "Five card stud, deuces wild, aces low, 5 cent ante. No, Ezra has waxed almost poetic about the people he's met here - you, a certain Mr. Wilmington and his young protégé, Mr. Dunne, your close friend, I believe, a Mr. Jackson, who I understand is also the town's resident doctor - "
"Healer," Josiah corrected, but lightly. He dropped a nickel to the table between them. "Nathan gets a bit testy when people assume he knows more than he does - even though, if you ask me, he's as good as any doctor I've ever had to suffer, and certainly has a lighter touch."
She smiled, reaching in to her bag and extracting several coins, then placing a nickel delicately next to Josiah's. "I'll bear that in mind, should I have need of medical attentions while I am here. But I must confess, I do hope that my health is not challenged."
Josiah chuckled, a warm sound that she was learning to like. "I hope so, as well. Nathan is far more amusing when he's not lecturing on how we fail to treat ourselves properly. Fortunately, he addresses more of those lectures to the likes of Chris and Vin than to the rest of us."
She studied her cards. "That would be - Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner? Ezra has had the most interesting stories to tell of the two of them! Bet?"
He pulled coins from the pocket of his vest and lay them on the table, spreading them out. "They are interesting men," he said amiably, pushing a nickel into the pot. "I'll open for another nickel."
"See it and raise it five cents," she said quickly, dropping a dime into the pot. "I understand that Mr. Tanner is quite the ruffian - but adept in the wilds."
"That's our Vin," Josiah agreed, tossing another nickel to the table. "And here he is now."
Maude turned to her right, following her companion's gaze.
The young man slipping through the door was not at all what she had expected from Ezra's descriptions. He hardly seemed a man at all, slender, graceful, and appearing decidedly younger than the stories had led her to believe. He made his way to the bar with fluid movements that were almost like a dancer's and she wondered what about him Ezra found so repulsive.
"Brother Vin," Josiah called and Maude heard the voice of the preacher in him then.
The young man turned to them even as he dropped a coin on the bar for the bartender who had already poured him a beer.
"Join us?" Josiah invited. "I doubt I have enough money to entertain Ezra's lovely mother for long on my own."
Maude felt a flash of irritation - she knew she hadn't been that transparent. But the look in the other man's eyes as he caught her gaze let her know that he was teasing. Mostly, anyway.
Mr. Tanner walked slowly over to join them, his expression blank but his eyes wary. And so very pretty, she thought, a blue that made her envious. With eyes like that, she could have owned St. Louis, maybe even New Orleans.
"Ma'am," he said in a soft rasp that made her think of rough cotton underskirts rubbing against a satin overskirt. He touched the brim of his hat politely, and she wondered where Ezra got his impression of this one as being a ruffian; he certainly knew to respect a lady.
"A pleasure, Mr. Tanner," she smiled, extending her hand.
He looked at her for a second, his eyes widening in consternation, before wiping his hand on his pants then very lightly touching the tips of her fingers.
She smiled at him, hoping to alleviate his insecurity. "Please, sit down."
She wasn't terribly surprised when he took the seat farthest away. Shy, this one, despite those wonderful eyes, and that perfect jaw. How odd; most men who looked that good would know exactly how to get what they wanted from a woman.
"Chris coming?" Josiah asked, glancing to Vin.
"Ain't seen him," Vin said in that soft voice. "'Spect he's over with Mrs. Travis and her boy."
"Boy's been through a lot and he's only been in town less 'n a day," Josiah said equally as quietly. "Bad enough the reasons he left, but to come back after all this time and almost get run over . . ."
"That would be the young man who arrived with me this afternoon?" she asked, holding up the card deck. "Cards, Josiah?"
"Two, ma'am," he said, pulling two from his hand and dropping them on the table face down. "I suspect it would be. His father was killed a while back - still an unsolved murder, I'm afraid. Think the sheriff at the time decided it was a robbery. The boy was home with his father at the time it happened."
Maude frowned, taking two cards for herself. "A sad thing for a boy not to have a father," she commented. "Ezra's father - well, let us just say that he found his paternal responsibilities a bit more challenging that he anticipated. Care to bet?"
She noticed that Vin's eyes shifted away from her and toward his beer. An interesting tell - he didn't like to discuss fathers. She wondered immediately who his was - or which children in town might be his. Good-looking boy like him must have had bastards all over the west. If he had money . . . . did she know any cute, blue-eyed children? Certainly Ezra did. . . .
"How about another nickel?" Josiah interrupted her thoughts, dropping a coin into the pot.
She smiled at him, oddly not annoyed at the paucity of his bets. "I'll see that and raise you a nickel," she said, dropping in a dime. "So Mr. Tanner," she said, glancing toward him, "where are you from?"
He actually blushed a little, she marveled. "Texas, or thereabouts," he answered, lifting his beer to his lips.
"I thought I detected a note of that in your accent," she smiled at him, pleased when he blushed even more. "However did you find your way here, sir?"
Vin mumbled something she didn't hear. But as she started to ask for clarification, Josiah said, "I'll call your raise, and raise you - a dime." He smiled at her, a warm smile that seemed surprisingly sincere.
And charming. She found herself warming to the man, which worried her.
"A dime, Josiah? I suspect that should worry me. Very well then, a dime." She added the dime to the pot and looked to him.
"Three fours," he said, laying out his hand.
She laughed, folding her cards together and placing them face down. "I should have known - you aren't the type of man to take too many chances, are you, Josiah?"
"Only with my heart, ma'am," he said lightly. Scooping his winnings towards himself, he said, "Another hand? Vin, care to join us?"
The tracker looked up from his contemplation of the table toward her, and she laughed. "Why, Mr. Tanner - I gather that you know my Ezra. Do you think for a minute that his mother isn't as interested in games of chance as he is?"
He grinned, reaching into a pocket of his pants. "'Spect not, ma'am," he said. "Sure, I'll take a chance or two."
As Josiah shuffled the cards and they anted up, Maude noticed the way the younger man watched the door. At first, she thought it might be caution, and over the course of the evening, she became more certain that that was a large part of it. But he was waiting for someone specific, as well.
It wasn't the young Mr. Dunne, who joined them soon thereafter, his youthful enthusiasm amusing and his youthful innocence giving him a gullibility that made her almost feel guilty about taking his money. Almost.
It wasn't the charming Mr. Wilmington who floated through, teasing Mr. Dunne about 'animal magnetism' and distracting him sufficiently for Maude to win another hand, before winding his seductive way to the bar where he lost himself to the wiles of a young lady - or vice versa. Maude supposed that it was more likely that "Buck", as he was called, was the one doing the pursuing, and she had to admit that he had a certain appeal. His smile, when loosed on her, was tempting and she thought it was rather honest in its appreciation of her charms.
Apparently, Josiah did as well, as she saw the way the older man glared at Buck and deliberately directed his attention to - Ms. Lucy, she thought she heard.
And it wasn't Nathan, the polite black man who joined them for a time, watching but not participating. He'd just come from checking in on several of the town's currently-indisposed residents, including the young Travis boy who had been Maude's traveling companion in the stage earlier.
"How is Billy?" JD asked, looking at his hand and frowning. "Mrs. Travis was so excited about him getting here - I hope that he's okay."
Nathan shook his head, sipping on his beer. "Boy's got some demons," he answered. "He was there the night his pa was killed - maybe even saw the killers, from what I can tell."
Maude felt the tension at the table, and she assumed that it was from concern for the boy. He was a well-mannered young man, and well-dressed.
"They never found the killers," Josiah commented, tossing two cards aside. "Decided it was a robbery."
"Something like that," the healer answered. "The boy's having a hard time being back, though. Mary was right to be worried about it. Almost got himself run over today, running into the road. Said he was trying to get away from The Devil."
There was a sudden stillness at the table as the men exchanged glances. Maude found herself feeling a bit disconcerted.
Josiah was the first to speak, his tone light. "Good old Satan again, harassing small children."
"Seems like he'd have better things to do, 'specially in this town," Vin agreed, folding his cards together and tossing them on the table. "'Course, maybe he's given over to Ezra and his ma, figured he was outclassed so he took to talking to the kiddies."
Maude glanced at the younger man, trying to get a read on the intent behind the statement. Relieved when she saw the smile playing at the corners of his agile lips, she laughed, and was joined by the other men at the table.
But the talk was still serious as Nathan said, "Boy's got a lot to think about, what with coming back here again. Mary sent him to his grandfather's to get past what he saw, but coming back here seems to have stirred it up again."
It was small, but telling, and Maude always looked for tells; she saw it not so much in movement - she had already learned that Vin didn't move much. No, it was in the stillness. A complete stillness now, not even a breath.
None of the others at the table seemed to notice, but she watched him as Nathan continued to talk. He was good; he had his head down, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his hat's brim. But it was there, a certain fear.
"Mary wants the boy to stay. But I don't know that it's such a good idea to force him, especially as just being here right now seems to be stirring up some bad memories." Nathan took another sip from his beer before adding, "'Course, she's working real hard on getting Chris involved with the boy."
She didn't think it possible for the tracker to be more still, but he was. It was as if the very air around him stopped moving, as if he and everything he touched had turned to stone.
"Chris still over there?" JD asked, oblivious to the tension in the air. "I'm in for a nickel," he added, looking down at his small collection of coins.
"Yeah, and from the look of things, we won't see him tonight, not until late, anyway. Mrs. Travis has him all tucked in, feeding him dinner and everything." He chuckled, as did Josiah and JD.
Maude herself smiled, but she noticed that Vin was looking away now, his eyes back on the door.
It was then that she started to suspect - not that she gave it a lot of thought one way or the other. But it was always best to hold any knowledge dear. One never knew when it would be a viable commodity.
"Well, I'd best get back," Nathan said, rising to his feet. "Need to check on Mrs. Hudson before I get to bed - we need to have her back on her feet as soon as possible."
"Indeed we do, brother," Josiah agreed. "No one else can cook a chicken like she can."
The others laughed and nodded their agreement, and attention returned to the game as Nathan left the rapidly-filling saloon.
"So, Mrs. Standish," JD said as he looked at his hand and the two new cards she had dealt him. "What was Ezra like as a boy?"
"Yes, Maude, do tell," Josiah encouraged, folding his own hand, but not complaining.
The stories were old hat - she'd been collecting them for years. Some actually had a basis in truth - loosely, anyway, and those were the ones that the others seemed to believe best. After a while, she even had Vin laughing, the soft chuckle a sound she felt she'd earned, but one that pleased her.
But not quite as much as the gleam in the soft blue eyes of one Mr. Sanchez.
By the time Ezra showed up, annoyed with her for not waiting for him, she was, indeed, ready to retire to her room. The day had been long and trying and the night had been - well, too tempting, even without the delight of Ezra's annoyance with the story of Elsie.+ + + + + + +
She hadn't meant to be so open with the Travis woman - it must be this town, she thought as she caught herself, almost missing Mr. Wheeler, the proprietor of the hotel, as he walked by. Or perhaps it was Ezra; he had spun a good tale, leading her to believe that he was doing this so that Mrs. Travis would owe him a favor.
She was going to have to talk to her boy - it was bad enough that she had almost lapsed herself, in St. Louis, almost allowed herself to be caught in a trap because she had gotten too comfortable.
"Dinner, this evening?" she heard herself answer Wheeler's question. "Why, I would be honored, Mr. Wheeler. Say, 8:00 o'clock? Shall I meet you in the dining room?"
She allowed him to kiss her hand, smiling her sweetest before turning into the dining room; a cup of tea - or whatever passed for it here, would be nice, as it was far earlier than she had intended to rise.
She took a table near the window which allowed her a clear view of most of the main street. For a while, she watched Mary Travis pace, and worry, and, she assumed, whine. It seemed all the woman could do was whine, and it made Maude wonder how she had risen to prominence in the town - what had they said at the table last night? That she was some judge's daughter or daughter-in-law? Pretty, of course, all that blonde hair and those pale eyes, but what a worrier. . . . .
"May we join you?" a deep voice started her from her observation of the street.
She turned to find Nathan and Mr. Wilmington standing nearby and she smiled. In some places, it might not be proper - hell, in most places it wouldn't be, as she was a lady and neither of these gentlemen was her husband - and one was not even white. But she had determined last night that the rules here were not the same as they were in St. Louis. And she rather liked these two. The only person who could bear the repercussions of this action would be Ezra - and, really, was that something for her to worry about right now? "Why, of course!" she smiled at them, waving her hand delicately toward the chairs across from her. "Any word on the little lost lamb?"
"Not yet, ma'am," Nathan sighed, pulling out a chair. His actions were slow, as if he expected Maude to change her mind, but she nodded once more, reassuring him.
He smiled wider, sincerely, then looked up as Miss Lottie, the dining room's waitress, came briskly over with a tray laden with coffee, biscuits, and jellies.
"Can't imagine where that boy got off to," Mr. Wilmington said, before quickly covering his mouth as he yawned. "Nathan and I covered every inch of this town, and he's not here." He picked up the coffee cup, taking a healthy gulp of it.
"Vin'll find him," Nathan commented. "Just hope he does it soon, before Mrs. Travis loses her mind."
"She does seem to be a bit of a worrier," Maude agreed, striving to be polite in her observations.
Mr. Wilmington laughed, reaching for one of the biscuits. "Surprised Chris talked her out of riding with him. Mighta been better for her than waiting around here, doing nothing." He smiled then, his eyebrows rising suggestively. "Definitely would have given her something else to think about."
Nathan sighed, and Maude saw him roll his eyes. She smiled, recalling things from the previous evening. "She has her eyes on Mr. Larabee? I have to admit, he hardly seems her type."
Buck laughed, and Nathan smiled. Maude watched them closely, watching for the signs that they knew what she knew about their acknowledged leader. She wasn't surprised when the signs didn't come; while she hadn't seen a lot this morning, she had seen enough to guess that Mr. Larabee himself didn't know for sure.
But sweet Mr. Tanner did. Poor thing.
"No, I don't think our Mrs. Travis has really come to know Chris," Mr. Wilmington agreed. "I think she thinks she can tame him, save him from himself."
Maude watched this man who she knew less about than the others. "You've known him a very long time, I take it?" She asked politely, almost as if she had no real interest, taking the time to pick up her tea cup and sip before looking up to catch his eye.
He had already started to answer by then. "Oh, Chris and I go way back - over ten, twelve years. I've known him a long, long time."
"You knew him before, then, when he was married?" It was a calculated guess.
Wilmington frowned, confused, and he exchanged a quick glance with Nathan who very slightly shrugged his own ignorance. But they were both gentlemen so neither asked.
Instead, he confirmed her suspicions. "Yes, ma'am. In fact, I was there when he met Sarah, and I was there for their wedding and Adam's birth." He smiled at the memory, but it was a sad one and told her all she needed to know.
"It must have been very hard for you then," she said quietly. "Almost as hard as it was for him."
The tall man nodded, his gaze dropping to his plate for a few seconds.
Nathan was the one who saved the moment. "Chris is a good man," he said, sipping at his coffee. "But I don't think he's ready yet, not to take on a family."
Wilmington laughed at that, a soft chuckle. "Now, Nathan, you don't know Chris. That man can't say no to a challenge, and if there's a woman in these parts that's a challenge, it's Mary Travis. She's 'bout as stubborn as he is!"
Nathan smiled at that as well, and Maude had to agree - from everything she'd seen so far, the Travis woman was used to getting her way, all right.
"You gentlemen seem like you know each other very well. How long have you all been working together?"
Both men laughed at that, and she arched an eyebrow in momentary insult.
"Oh, we aren't laughing at you, ma'am," Nathan rushed, holding up one hand. "It's just that, truth be told, we've only know each other for a few months now - well, 'cept for Buck and Chris, and me and Josiah. All together, though, we met - what, about two, three months ago, maybe a little longer?"
"Something like that," Buck agreed. "Hard to believe - feels like I've know most of y'all forever. 'Cept maybe Ezra - he's a hard one to get to know."
Maude was relieved at that; while her son had been quite generous with his evaluations of the others in this town - these six men included - she had worried that he was letting himself become too familiar with them. One should never trust anyone other than one's self - and one should never trust a man.
She had been reminded of that bitter truth too recently.
But before she could comment, Buck was getting to his feet, staring past her out the window. "They're back," he announced, and she turned to see Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner's horses trotting down the street.
"Something happened," Nathan's voice was tense and he rose as well.
For her part, she frowned. "How can you tell? They seem to have the boy, and he seems to be all right - "
But the two men were already heading out the door, Mr. Wilmington tipping his hat to the waitress and smiling, even though he never broke stride.
Maude watched out the window as the group met in front of the newspaper office. Mary Travis was there, pulling her son from Mr. Larabee's arms, crying for no reason Maude could understand - no, she corrected herself with a slight smile as she watched Mr. Larabee dismount. Of course there was a reason. She would have to start giving the woman more credit; Mrs. Travis knew how to use her skills as woman, and she certainly understood how to play the 'helpless card'.
Yes, indeed, she was good. Almost as good as Maude herself had been when Ezra was that age. Better, maybe; she actually seemed ignorant of the power she was wielding over these men - well, most of them.
Maude sat back, watching. It was no surprise that Mr. Wilmington was subject to her tears - the man quite obviously adored most anything in a skirt and was just as likely to give them what they wanted with full cognizance that he was being manipulated. She wasn't sure if that made him better or worse than most men.
Nathan was just a kind-hearted man, she decided; he was more concerned about the boy, it seemed, and his fussing seemed to be directed more toward physical health. Like most men, he found it easier to deal with the tangible, and reassuring the distraught mother that the boy was fine or could be fine was the best way he knew how to stop the tears.
Mr. Larabee was a different story. He knew better, Maude could tell by the straight line of his mouth, the edge of anger that controlled his movements. He resented Mrs. Travis' emotions and the way they made him feel - helpless and guilty. But someone - probably his own mother - had taught him to behave better, so he stood rigid, one arm around her shoulders as she sobbed against his chest while Nathan looked the boy over.
The interesting one, though, was Mr. Tanner. He still sat on his horse, hat pulled low over his eyes, his posture slouched as though nothing were wrong. It was an affected look and her estimation of him rose; he might sound uneducated and he might even be as uncivilized as Ezra had reported, but he was smart in his own way, and she suspected that he was one of the most dangerous men she would ever meet.
Perhaps, she acknowledged, because he was unknown. Not only did he not understand the rules of society, he didn't care that he didn't. Right now, he was unbothered by Mary Travis' tears - no, she thought, watching him. That wasn't right. He was bothered by something, the slouch was too affected, too practiced.
She remembered the blue eyes from the night before, the way they had moved around, always aware of what was going on around him, always aware of who was where, who was coming, who was going -
And very aware of who wasn't there.
Of course, she thought, it was so obvious. His shyness towards her, to other women, despite his attractiveness. Alone, she would have thought little of it, given the sketchy details she knew of his past.
But now, watching him in Larabee's presence, it was as clear as a fine crystal wine glass, confirming what she had thought: he was in love with Chris Larabee.
And also as she suspected, that love was unrequited. In fact, she would wager to say that it was also unknown, definitely to Larabee himself.
She would have to talk to Ezra. There were possibilities here.+ + + + + + +
She eased into the saloon, not really wanting company but really wanting a drink. Ezra's words had hurt - cut deep.
Fortunately, it was late; there were few people about, two or three in different places about the bar, by themselves, and in the far back table, three men together. She was vaguely aware that it was three she knew - Tanner, Larabee, and Josiah, but in her current mood, they were among the last people she wanted to see right now.
It had all been so perfect - as if designed for her and Ezra. Wheeler was the perfect mark - it was a gift from the gods, an open invitation.
A means to not only bolster her finances, but salvage the pride and hurt that she had lost when she had let Marcus get too close.
But Ezra - not only had he refused, he had had the audacity to question her skills as a parent.
Her instincts had been right - then again, weren't they always? He was too involved here, had come to trust these men, this place. Damn him. Damn them.
She tossed back the bourbon, wishing she could blot out the past month as easily. Meeting Marcus had seemed like such a wonder at the time - a smart, intelligent, well-dressed man who was as canny as she was. They had spotted each other for what they were within ten minutes.
Even better, they had moved past the fear of competition and straight into a mutual alliance. The con had been ingenious and flawless and they'd hardly had to talk about it to know what they were going to do.
Negotiating the terms of the split had taken a little longer, but what a wonderful discussion; most of it had been physical, and intimate, and more pleasurable than she'd had in years.
Three days before the con was done, Marcus had asked her to go with him when it was over, to Paris or London or Madrid.
A day after that, she had stood in front of her wardrobe, packing for Europe, her thoughts swirling with plans and preparations. It had been in one of those moments, as she had picked up the red velvet dress with the black embroidery from the bottom of the wooden fixture, that she had recalled the last time she had been in Europe.
Recalled having to wire Ezra for money to get home because her then-husband had deserted her.
Recalled knowing before she had left for that trip that it was a mistake; long-term relationships were not her forte.
The thought of waking up one morning in a foreign city to discover that Marcus had left in the night . . .
She had continued packing, and she had even waited another twelve hours before making a decision.
But when the money had been handed to them, the extremely large amount they had justified as the bribe to get the Governor to sign the 'secret' - and non-existent - bill to allow Central Railroad to locate a hub in Missouri on Indian lands - she had explained to Marcus that she needed her half to pay off some outstanding debts before they left.
That last night had been superb. Enough so that for several minutes, as she sat in the bed staring down at him as he slept, sated and content, she had allowed herself the luxury of doubting.
But in the end, she had slipped out of the room and dressed carefully and quickly. By the time the sun was rising over St. Louis, she was heading to Four Corners, a dirty backwater town that Marcus had never known of.
Where she had hoped to replace a lost love with a son's love.
She wondered if she could have been more wrong.
"This seat taken?"
She turned sharply, recognizing the voice and wanting to vent her frustration.
Apparently it showed on her face; Josiah took a step back, blinking. "Forgive me, ma'am, I don't mean to intrude."
He touched the brim of his hat and glanced to the bartender, who was placing a bottle and a glass on the bar. "Pour Mrs. Standish a glass, then I'll take the - "
"Thank you, Josiah," she said with a sigh, feeling more tired than she'd ever imagined. "Please, forgive me. It's been a . . . trying evening."
She gestured toward the seat next to her, then glanced about. "What of your companions? I thought that Mr. Tanner and Mr. Larabee were here with you."
He smiled a smaller smile. "There's other business for them to attend to at the moment. I, myself, am almost ready to call it a night, but I didn't want to see such lovely company abandoned. Unless, of course, you would prefer your solitude."
She looked back to him, smiling wanly. "I fear that my capabilities as a mother were called into question and it has left me a bit . . . . "
"Unappreciated?" he supplied. But he pulled out the chair beside her and slid his large body into it gracefully. "A mother's curse to care for her young," he said quietly.
"A mother's curse is to have ungrateful children," she shot back, but while the words were bitter, they had lost the heat of her anger.
Josiah turned to her, his gaze calm but observant. "Ezra's a good man, Maude. You should be proud."
She couldn't stop herself from the quick laugh. How very timely. How very pointed.
With a shrewdness that caught her unprepared, he continued, "And despite what you might want us to believe - or even him, for that matter, you are proud of him for that."
She sighed, hearing the truth in his statement. She was proud of Ezra. He had, in his own, brilliant little way, found a way to use his God-given talents for the betterment of his community - and in the doing, was becoming something she had never had the opportunity to be: respected.
Perhaps even loved.
Without even thinking about it, she changed the subject, the emotions getting too close again. "Did you three sort out the evils of the world tonight?" She sipped more slowly from her glass now, the impulse to lose herself in the bottle ebbing.
Josiah smiled slightly, but he was enough of a gentleman not to comment on the change in topic. "We made a start," he said quietly. "Someone in town is feeling threatened by the boy's return, enough so to try to kill him - and to kill Chris and Vin."
She blinked at that. They had seemed so calm. "My. Whyever would someone . . . "
The thought died on her lips as one reason sprang immediately to mind: perhaps she wasn't the only one who had noticed - and questioned Vin Tanner's obvious adoration of their leader.
Josiah quirked his head slightly, blinking at her. Then his eyes narrowed, as though he were reading her thoughts. His next words suggested that he was, indeed, somewhat psychic. "Chris and Vin have a lot of enemies, but whoever was shooting at them was aiming for Billy. The others were just collateral damage, I suspect."
She nodded, understanding the implied message: Josiah Sanchez was very protective of his friends, and he was not a man to be taken lightly.
"So then you were correct," she said, acknowledging the statement. "Whoever killed his father is now targeting young Mr. Travis."
Josiah relaxed slightly and the warmth returned to his gaze. She found that she had missed it. "That's the logical assumption," he nodded, sipping at his own drink. "Chris has a plan; he's gone over to Mary's now to talk to her about it."
Perhaps it was because of her earlier anger, because of the hurt Ezra had inflicted on her; perhaps, even, it was because of a strange jealousy she had, that these men could be so protective of each other - even of Ezra, damn them. Whatever the case, she gave into a meanness that she didn't really intend.
"Did he take Mr. Tanner with him?" she asked, attempting innocence and failing. "I'm certain he would want to attend that proposition."
Josiah's eyes narrowed in annoyance, but worse, in disappointment.
Were it not for a stronger spike of jealousy, she might have been embarrassed.
"Vin has his own arrangements to make," he said simply. He downed the rest of his drink, the moved to stand. "As do I. Good night - "
"I'm sorry," she heard herself say quickly, and the embarrassment finally came. But now it was because she realized, to her great chagrin, that she truly was sorry - not for what she had said itself, but for driving him away. "Please, don't - "
She caught herself before she actually begged. But the embarrassment grew to shame as she knew how close she had come. She wondered passingly if she were losing her mind - first Marcus, then this insanity with Ezra, and now - now begging a man she barely knew, a poor, rough man, to keep her company -
"Maude?" His voice was soft, and concerned.
It worried her at another level that he understood her confusion for what it was - understood that she was behaving outside of her normal character. He hadn't known her long enough for that.
But more pressing was the relief she felt, and a comfort in his concern that not even Marcus had inspired.
"Forgive me," she said quietly, looking at him. "I find that I'm out of sorts tonight, apparently more so than even I realized. Mr. Tanner hardly warrants my annoyance - he seems a good young man."
"He is a good man," Josiah agreed, setting back into the chair. "Had a hard life, deprived of a lot the rest of us take for granted." He looked at her again, with that depth that made her both uncomfortable and flattered, as though she were the center of the universe. "Suspect you know something of that sort of life yourself."
She looked away, then, the discomfort growing at the thought of what he was saying, of what he knew.
But he doesn't know, she reminded herself. He only suspects. Thinks he knows.
"Life is what you make it," she countered easily, but she still wasn't looking at him. Instead, she gestured toward the bottle. "May I?"
"Of course."
She refilled both of their glasses and sipped from hers before drawing up the courage to look at him. "What are you doing here, Josiah?"
She saw the amusement lighten his features and knew that he might dabble in the metaphysical - 'here on Earth?' - or the general - 'here in the wilds of the West?' - or even the local - 'here in Four Corners?'. And with a jolt of nervousness, she decided that she would let him determine where he wanted to take it. It might be wiser to let it be a general, conversational question.
But to his credit, he knew exactly what she was asking. "I enjoy your company, Maude," he said with a directness that was almost brash. "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever had the pleasure to sit with, certainly one of the most intelligent."
It wasn't the first time someone had told her she was beautiful - Marcus alone had said it daily. With the amount of work and money she put into her appearance, she took the statement as a compliment on her efforts.
But while she'd always known she was smart, and she knew there were many others who knew it, too, those people never had the chance to tell her; by the time they'd realized she was smarter than them, she was long gone, their money or jewelry or deeds in her purse and bags and bound for parts unknown.
Josiah was one of the few to ever say it to her face. And to mean it in a good way.
She found herself blushing like a schoolgirl and wondering why it meant so much to her that he thought she was intelligent.
Even though she knew.
"I'm sorry if I upset you," Josiah frowned, misunderstanding her silence. "Did I misunderstand - "
"Not at all," she interrupted. Her hand fell onto one of his, sliding easily to fit over his large, work-rough palm. "Would you do me the honor of escorting me to my room?" she asked, her gaze direct.
He blinked, surprised, but pleased. With a tilt of his head, he said, "I am the one who will be honored, ma'am."
They finished their drinks, and Josiah called a 'good night' to the bartender.
As she stood, Maude picked up the bottle, holding it out to her companion. "A night cap for when we get there?"
He smiled. "Don't mind if I do."+ + + + + + +
He rose before the dawn, even though, in truth, they had hardly slept.
Despite his protestations, Maude rose as well, half-dressed as he slipped out the door with a promise to meet her downstairs, in the dining room, in half an hour.
For a minute, as she stepped off the bottom step, it occurred to her that she had made a tactical faux pas; dining with a paramour in the hotel owned by a mark might not be the best plan.
As she moved to the dining room's door, she decided it didn't matter. She could have run a scam without Ezra. Could have taken Wheeler anyway.
But Ezra was her son, and he had found something here. She'd never forgive him for it - but she wouldn't take it from him either. Maybe he was right about her - not because his accusations were true, but because she'd never allowed him to see otherwise. Like everyone else in her life, particularly the men, she'd never allowed him to see her own pain.
As she stepped through the doorway, she found she needn't have worried about propriety; Josiah was there, as promised, but in the company of several other early risers: Vin Tanner, JD Dunne, and most unexpectedly, Ezra.
"Mother," he said, rising. "Are you feeling well? You're up terribly early."
She smiled and extended her hand to him, which he took and kissed politely. "The same could be said of you, dear boy. Are you unwell?"
At the table, there were several chuckles, letting her know that her son's sleeping habits were common knowledge among his companions.
"I'm fine, Mother," he said, stirring her toward one of the table's empty chairs. Coincidentally, it was between Josiah and himself.
Or, perhaps not, she thought, as Josiah rose and said, "I'm pleased you could meet me, Maude. I'm sorry that we must be chaperoned by the young'uns, but - "
"I resent that!" JD said, but there was a laugh in his voice, his energy already running high this early in the morning.
"Good morning, Mr. Sanchez," she smiled, squeezing his fingers slightly harder than was normal as she took his hand. She held his gaze as he bent over her hand, his lips grazing her knuckles with a delicacy that sent a frisson of memory down her spine.
He smiled slightly, as if feeling her shiver, then straightened to help her take her seat.
The conversation was constant, light, and teasing, as it had been two nights ago in the saloon when she had first met them.
But there was an undercurrent of anticipation in it, and she noted the silent communications passing amongst the men.
For herself, though, the bigger distraction was in the undercurrent of tension between herself and her son.
"I rather thought you'd be meeting Mr. Wheeler for breakfast this morning," he said quietly. His eyes were cool as they met hers.
A number of different responses came to her tongue, one from anger, one from hurt, and one from indulgence. The last, she knew, was a result of the languid feeling Josiah had left with her that morning.
None of these were the ones that left her mouth, however. "There seem to be bigger stakes at issue at the moment. As there seems little rush in a decision at the moment, I feel no need to force a play." She lifted her own cup, tipping it slightly toward him in a toast.
Ezra's eyes widened; it wouldn't have been evident to most people, but Maude knew her son well.
"Why, Mother," he said, even more softly, for her ears alone, "if I didn't know better, I'd think you were feeling a certain compassion. Instead, though, I find myself wondering what plan you might be devising."
There was an exclamation from down the table, and she looked up to see Buck Wilmington making his way toward them as well. As the others welcomed him, she said quietly to her son, "I assure you, Ezra, I shan't burden you with any of my plans or expectations - or obligations. You just go along as if I'm not here at all."
Before he could respond, another newcomer entered, and the table grew louder.
It was by chance that her gaze fell on Vin Tanner as Chris Larabee drew near.
Had she had any lingering doubts, they were put to rest as those blue eyes seemed to light from within. It might have been the sunlight creeping through the windows, or the low lights of the lamps set on the walls around them, or even the reflection from one of the crystal vases set in the centers of the tables.
But she knew that it wasn't. The sparkle heating those depths was from within, and it was tied directly to the tired-looking man striding purposefully to the table.
The chatter recommenced, but she noted through the course of the quick meal that whenever Larabee spoke, the others all listened. He didn't say much, apparently didn't need to.
The anticipation she had felt earlier rose to a full tension when Nathan Jackson wandered in a few minutes later. All of them were present now, and it didn't take her but a few minutes to realize that had she not been present, there was talk they would be having.
The plan, of course.
She'd hardly touched her breakfast, but then, it was far earlier than she'd normally choose to eat.
"Gentlemen," she said, drawing herself up, but quickly waving for them to remain seated, "I find all this early-morning energy quite . . .overwhelming. Please forgive me, but I believe I shall retire for a while."
Ezra, of course, made as if to rise, but she leaned over, feigning a kiss to his cheek as she whispered, "Not to worry, darling, my planning can hardly be as complex or dangerous as what you boys are about this morning. Just be careful?"
She squeezed his shoulder as she straightened, smiled at Josiah quickly, then turned away.
But as she reached the door, she looked back. Once again, she caught Josiah's eye and nodded, the invitation made.
She let her gaze sweep the table, allowing herself a few seconds to study the pair at the other end. Vin was speaking, his soft voice unclear at this distance, his eyes moving along the others as he explained something.
Larabee, however, was watching the younger man with an intensity that almost made Maude smile.
Perhaps, she thought. Perhaps Mrs. Travis wasn't as successful as everyone thought.+ + + + + + +
It was almost five o'clock when the knock finally came.
She was reading, re-reading, actually, Boccaccio's Decameron. It was one of her favorite books, one that traveled with her always. In its own way, it was quite romantic, and even though she herself hardly believed in love, the myth of it, the idea that a man would go to such lengths for - well, anyone other than himself, fascinated her.
She expected Josiah, and her smile was wide when she saw him on her threshold.
She hadn't expected Ezra as well, and her first instinct was that it was trouble; she'd been foolish, she thought, being with one of Ezra's new 'friends'.
But even as she thought it, her back stiffening in anticipation, she saw Josiah's small smile. He was man, she warned herself sternly, not to be trusted, not to be -
"We have need of your talents, Mother," Ezra said. "I fear that I was too quick to judge last night. It would seem that your instincts about Mr. Wheeler were, as ever, quite on the mark."
The plan was simple, her role small but crucial. It wasn't going to bring her the wealth she had contemplated, but it was going to help her son and his friends take a killer or two off the streets of this dusty little backwater.
"So, then," Ezra said as he and Josiah took their leave a short time later, "I shall see you at the saloon."
She nodded to Ezra, knowing there was still much that needed to be said between them.
Josiah touched his hat to her, his eyes holding hers again. "Perhaps I could escort you over to the saloon," he suggested politely. "A woman of your gentle nature shouldn't be left to roam the streets alone."
She smiled at him. "Why, thank you, Mr. Sanchez, I would appreciate that."
He turned slightly, so that his words, quietly spoken, didn't carry past her. "8:00 or so?" he asked.
She smiled, delighted. She had no intention of asking Wheeler to meet her until closer to nine-thirty - when members of polite society socialized. "Delighted."
She took dinner earlier than usual; in truth, she had had little intention of taking it at all, but she was hoping to run into her mark in his own dining room, and she was successful. He was coming in as she was leaving, which made her suggestion that they meet later in the saloon for after-dinner drinks appear all the more spontaneous.
"Don't know that I like this idea much." Josiah was sitting on the bed, his lower body under the sheet, his upper body propped on several of the bed's thick pillows.
She smiled at him in the mirror of the dresser as she twined her hair into the style that best suited the dress she planned to wear, a lovely red silk that she had worn just a week ago in Saint Louis. "Not a woman's place?" she asked.
He grinned. "You're far from helpless, Maude, and I've seen the rig that you keep in your secret skirt pocket - now I know where Ezra gets his ideas for hidden weapons."
"One must be able to take care of one's self," she said, placing the hair pins carefully. "I assure you, I shall be fine."
Josiah's good humor dampened a bit, but his eyes, still watched her. "If he feels cornered, there's no telling what he might do. You two be careful."
"Aren't you going to be right there, just outside the door? You and Mr. Tanner?" She turned her head to one side, viewing the angle, then to the other doing the same.
"Yes, but if it goes bad, nothing short of being right on top of him's going to help things." He sighed, and rolled his head along the pillows. His hair was curly in the evening heat, spiking in places where she'd run her fingers through it.
"I'll be fine, Josiah," she said, trying not to feel warmed by his concern. "I can protect myself, and Ezra will be close as well."
Josiah shifted a little. "I don't get the sense that you and Ezra have sorted things out," he said by way of a question.
She shrugged, reaching for her cosmetics. The softer lights of the saloon would require more shimmer against darker highlights. "We haven't had any time to talk it out," she answered. "Seems that he spent most of the day keeping company with Mrs. Travis and your associates."
Josiah canted his head to one side, thinking, then nodded once. "Guess that's true. I wasn't thinking. He was with the stage coach team." He looked up and chuckled. "You'd have been right proud of him, Maude - he made quite the stage coach driver."
For an instant, the idea was so incongruous that she froze. Ezra? Her son? Driving a stage coach?
"He has a number of talents you may not know of," Josiah said after a few seconds, and she felt his eyes on her.
She swallowed. "One of them, I gather, is making friends. True friends. Not . . . "
"Not confidence-game friends?" His voice was low, but not condescending. "He did learn that art well, but I suspect he trained under an exemplary teacher." He waited a few seconds to let her take in the compliment - and to understand that he had intended it as such. "He's a good man."
It was habit, really, developed over years of protecting herself, and, despite what Ezra thought, her son. "Really, though, what does that mean? 'A good man' - what is a good man, Josiah?" The bitterness was sharp on her tongue, heavy as the dregs of red wine in the bottom of a bottle too-long open. "I've known quite a number of 'good men' - Ezra's father was one of the first in a very long line. Is a 'good man' defined by his actions in public, his benefit to the community as a whole? Because very few men - and to be fair, women - worry about the value of their word or their integrity unless it's for public consumption. My entire lifestyle is based in that reality - and I assure you, 'good men' are the easiest marks because they have so many delightful little hypocrisies that they want to keep hidden from the light of polite society - where they hold their position by being 'good men'."
Josiah didn't anger at her words, and in a way, that was more upsetting than if he had. "One of the things I appreciate most about you is that you know the difference between appearance and reality," he answered gently. "And I know that you understand that when I refer to your son as a 'good man', I mean that he has core values that are a part of who he is - that will guide his conduct even without the approval or disapproval of others."
She rose, tension tightening her spine as she walked to the wardrobe. "'Core values'," she repeated, unable to keep the sneer from her voice. "What would those be, Josiah? The Ten Commandments or their equivalents? Most of your little group lives by the gun, so certainly violence and killing are a part of your daily world. Stealing - well, that's another nebulous area, of course, particularly for my Ezra. Sins of the flesh? You'd be a hypocrite at this moment to try to hold out that one - and so would Mr. Wilmington, undoubtedly. I suspect Mr. Larabee has his own needs met with some regularity, and from the way Mr. Tanner looks at your unquestioned leader, I think there are all kinds of violations of nature involved in your band of 'good men'."
She had found the red dress and now tried to yank it from the wardrobe with a force that almost ripped it.
The fine cloth was saved by the intervention of a large hand, one that closed over her slender wrist. The grip wasn't painful, but it was tight and strong and stopped all effort on her part as though she were a feather.
Fear shivered through her, memories of other men, other times, other anger.
But she had learned the hard way to meet fear, even her own, directly, and she turned to look up, meeting the man's gaze.
Josiah's eyes were a pale blue, almost grey, that reminded her of soft winter skies, heavy with snow or heavy London fog, rolling off the Thames just after dawn.
Now, though, they bore down at her like gun metal, steel grey, flat, and unyielding. His voice, though quiet, was much the same.
"I understand why you distrust men, why you distrust most people. I even understand your disdain of society and its conventions even as you use them to your advantage. But what I don't understand is why you are so quick to judge hypocrisy yet are a hypocrite yourself."
The shock of his words, the accusation, bit deep and she felt the coldness of her anger begin to heat. "I beg your pardon?" she said in a tone that did no such thing.
He pulled her hand away from the dress, then pulled her close, his arms like iron around her. He had no trouble lifting her and drawing her flush against him.
She opened her mouth to demand her freedom, only to have it filled with his tongue - not violently or even forcefully, but slowly and with an eroticism that she had come to know in her time with him.
The heat of her anger spiraled lower, reawakening parts of her that, while sated, were not dormant. Her arms, which had been pushing hard against him, slipped slowly around his neck as she found herself returning his affection.
He was an excellent kisser, an even better lover. She had pondered that periodically, how a man with such a religious bent could be so aware of the sins of the flesh, but she hadn't let it bother her overly. While seemingly genteel, she knew there were depths of passions and emotion in him that he held in check.
He drew back, looking into her eyes as one of his large hands slid to cup the curve of her hip. "Do you enjoy what we do, Maude?" His voice was a guttural purr.
"I thought I had made that clear," she answered, letting her hands run through his hair.
"Do you think it makes us bad people?" He nuzzled against her neck, his nose teasing along the soft skin of her throat but staying below the line of her make-up.
"The worst kind," she said, breathless. "Free-thinking."
She felt his smile as his lips caressed along the curve of her shoulder. "Because we make decisions based on accepting responsibility for them?"
"Oh, yes," she rolled her head to one side, allowing him more access. "Because we know there are no absolutes."
It was then that the sensations eased away. She forced her eyes open, wondering what had happened, only to find him once more staring at her.
His gaze was softer now, back to the rolling fog and soft skies. "No absolutes," he agreed, carefully putting her down. "Nothing in black and white." He let his hands catch her shoulders, holding her even after she had her balance. "The rules society sets to govern itself by are designed to rule out temptation. But we are creatures of instinct, ruled in many ways by our animal natures. We're at constant war between those natures and the grander rules we establish in our rational minds to govern those instincts." His hands drifted down her arms to take her hands into his. "It's the grey area between those two where we all make our choices, Maude, where we have to decide what absolutes we govern - or don't govern ourselves by."
He lifted one of her hands to his lips, but his eyes never left hers. "For myself, my absolute is not to harm anyone unless there is no recourse. Honestly, I believe that's at the core of every one of my friends. If not, there's some variation of it. Even Ezra."
She took a deep breath, hearing his words. "I don't understand," she said after a few seconds. "What he does - what I do - "
"The people you two scam are people who want to be scammed. In the long run, the harm you do them may help them. If nothing else, it may teach them the error of their ways." He dropped her hands, moving to the end of the bed and picking up his long johns.
"You're not condoning what we do," she said quietly, watching him. A part of her wanted to stop him as he pulled the clothing up his long, muscular legs. A part of her wanted to walk over to him, push him back onto the bed and straddle him, take him once more.
That instinct that Josiah was talking about.
Josiah shrugged, rising to pull the clothing up over his knees and to his waist.
"Not my place," he said quietly, his nimble fingers fastening the buttons. "I think maybe that's what you don't understand. It's no one's place to judge you and your values and whether you live by them or not, except you and God - whichever god you believe in."
He looked back over his shoulder as he reached for his shirts which were draped over the curve of the bed as well.
She understood then. "They're good men because they try not to hurt unnecessarily, and they don't put their noses in anyone else's business." She tilted her head to one side, feeling the coil of anger again. "But I don't think either of those apply to Ezra - "
"Then perhaps you need to get to know him a little better," Josiah said, tucking his shirt in. "The better part of 'not sticking in your nose' isn't so much in discovering things about others as it is in choosing how to use that knowledge." He picked his gun belt up from the table by the bed, buckling it easily around his waist. "Right now, I'd be very surprised if Ezra didn't suspect there was more between us than we've let on." His jacket was next, requiring him to step closer to the door. "But he's given me no hint that he's aware or concerned."
He picked up his hat, but didn't put it on.
"I have every intention of talking to him," she said as the silence grew long.
He nodded, then smiled. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He put his hat on, then touched the brim.
She didn't move as he closed the door behind himself, her mind working over what he had said.
By the time he returned, she was dressed and perfect, ready for her evening's scam. She accepted his compliments with grace, and his arm with perfect ease.
They chatted about nothing as they made their way to the saloon, acting as very casual acquaintances for any and all watching.
But as they stepped up on the boardwalk and he tipped his hat to her, he said very softly, "Be careful, Maude."
She gave his arm an extra-long squeeze before releasing it. "Always am, dear man."
Despite her irritation with him, she felt a stirring of affection. Not love, and not the intensity of passion she had felt with Marcus. Just affection.
Friendship.
The same damned thing that she had warned Ezra about.+ + + + + + +
Afterwards, she waited at the saloon.
She wasn't bored, per se - a number of the patrons thought, as usual, that they could win her affections by winning at the poker table, but she stayed just well enough ahead of them to stay out of reach, and to hold their respect.
But as she played, and waited for the men - Josiah and Ezra, at least - to return from the old Travis place, she kept the memory of those blue eyes, wild and dangerous, dancing in her head. Not the quiet, shy boy, Mr. Tanner.
His anger had bordered on the ferocious and she had, for the first time, seen the savage her son claimed him to be.
It had been disconcerting, at the least. When she let herself think about it, she felt actual fear.
They rode back into town around midnight. She watched them through the saloon window, all the while continuing the game. It was one of the higher pots of the night, at least fifteen dollars in it, and she had let most of the larger pots go, stroking male egos and making more money off of the smaller ones by not intimidating the men away.
Mary Travis rode with her son in her arms, looking tired, disheveled, and delightfully out of control. Maude had taken some small pleasure in the shock the woman seemed to have had when they confronted Wheeler; she'd been unable to say anything, as if the very idea that someone she had known and trusted could have been involved in the murder of her husband and the attempted murder of her son was unbelievable.
Or perhaps she, too, had been caught off-guard by the change in Mr. Tanner. She had stared at him with almost the same confusion that she had bestowed on Wheeler, and Maude suspected that had the situation not involved her own concerns, she might well have found herself repulsed by the barely-checked violence of the young man.
Oddly, neither Ezra nor Josiah had seemed particularly concerned about Vin's behavior. Even though they had only known him a month or so, they didn't seem surprised or even bothered at the viciousness in their companion.
That also worried at Maude's concentration. How much had her son changed since getting to know these men?
How well did she, herself, know Josiah?
Now, as they dismounted, she noticed that Larabee was hurt, his right hand bandaged and his right arm held awkwardly against his body. Nathan was right beside him, and Vin was close, but in the background. Where she had come to expect him to be.
Josiah had dismounted, as well, and was helping Ms. Travis from her horse, holding the boy who seemed to be sleeping. Once she was down, however, Chris was at her side, waving off Nathan's concerns for him and slipping his good arm under Mary's waist, lending his strength to hers.
Maude felt an unusual wave of sadness as she caught, for just a second, the look that washed across Tanner's sharp features. He was just in the light of the moon, his hat tilted up and exposing his face. She couldn't see his eyes, just the wide expanse of his brow and the soft lines of his full lips, but that was all she needed.
Pain. As clear and hard as if an arm were being ripped from him, or a leg sawn off.
She had seen the look before, sometimes when a con worked as she'd planned and a wife caught her husband in a compromising position.
When she had destroyed someone's faith in someone else or in their idea of love that wasn't realistic.
It was hard to believe that this young man had any sort of unrealistic idea about Chris Larabee's affections. It was hard to believe that this young man had any expectations of any kind.
As if to confirm her assessment, the expression vanished from him, as if it had never been.
Several minutes later, the doors of the saloon opened to admit Ezra. He moved to the bar, talking to several of the men seated there as if he had just returned from an evening stroll.
She finished the hand, winning this time, thanked her groaning companions for a lovely evening, and retired to join her son.
"I gather things went according to plan?" she asked as she took a seat beside him at the bar.
Ezra took her hand, smiling with a sincerity that warmed her. "As we speak, Mr. Dunne and Mr. Wilmington are finding accommodations for our killer and his compatriots at the local sheriff's office. I suspect that Mr. Wheeler will find himself keeping some not-terribly-hospitable company over the next few days. Mr. Larabee is off to wake our telegraph operator, to wire Judge Travis of the need of his services, and then he and Mr. Jackson will be putting the lovely Mrs. Travis and her son to bed."
"And the others?" she asked casually, signaling the barkeep for a refill of her own drink.
"Mr. Tanner and Mr. Sanchez are seeing to the comfort of the mounts. I expect to see them soon enough."
She felt the weight of his gaze on her and she glanced over, catching the curious expression in his eyes. "I'm rather surprised that Mr. Tanner isn't off with Mr. Larabee," she commented quickly, before he had time to ask.
His eyes, so like his father's, widened at the implicit redirection, but as she had taught him, he was a gentleman. "I believe Mr. Larabee has his own agenda for the evening. He was wounded in the altercation - not badly, certainly nothing that Mr. Jackson can't take care of, but it's placed him in Mrs. Travis' debt, and she seems quite convinced that he will suffer his pain less severely in her tender care." He chuckled then, lifting his glass. "I don't know whether he's pleased with that arrangement or not, but he didn't seem given to argument - not very stringent argument, at least."
And therein lay the basis for that very fleeting expression she had seen earlier.
"I must say, Ezra, that I questioned your impression of young Mr. Tanner until I saw him this evening with Mr. Wheeler. For such a quiet young man, he certainly has his methods of persuasion."
She caught the slight wince on her son's face; it was more telling than any of the genteel words that left his mouth.
"Indeed," he said dryly. "I suspect that he was most sincere in everything he said. The man does not appear to make promises or threats that he does not keep."
She sipped at her drink, her eyes on the mirror behind the bar, casually watching the door. "He seems extremely devoted to Mr. Larabee."
She felt Ezra's shrug. "They seem to have some sort of understanding - I can't begin to say that I either comprehend it or either one of them, but they seem to understand each other. And so far, the town - and those of us in it - have benefited from it."
"You and your friends?" she asked quietly, broaching, for the first time, their conversation from the previous evening.
He stiffened, his fingers tightening on the glass he was holding.
But before he could comment, she went on, still staring into the mirror. "I know that I didn't offer you the kind of life most children have, and I know that I've instilled in you my own sense of morality and . . . distrust. I apologize that I ever left you to feel that my love for you was insincere, Ezra, because it was not. I thought I was doing you a kindness by not subjecting you to the delusions and fantasies that guide most young people, the ones that, when ultimately destroyed, leave them vulnerable and suffering." She paused, taking another sip of her drink, and trying not to think of the expression she had seen earlier on Vin's face. Trying not to imagine what those eyes, wide and clear and so very beautiful, had looked like.
The thought of that look on the face of her son, in his green eyes, was almost more than she could bear.
"Mother," Ezra started, his voice low, "Please, I - "
"You have found a place here," she spoke over him, but just. "These men are . . . different. They are men who . . . well, I can't say that I would trust them, but I believe them more honorable than most." She sipped again.
As she set the glass aside this time, she turned to look at him, meeting his gaze straight on. "It's a sweet little town, Ezra. Mostly because the most important man in my life, now and ever, likes it enough to go against everything I've taught him, to stay here."
She picked up her glass and lifted it in a toast to him. "You do what you feel you need to."
There was a very small, vindictive part of her that laughed at the look of complete shock on his lovely features.
There was a bigger part of her that wondered if, had Ezra been the one wearing the look of pain she had seen on Vin's face earlier, she could have made that statement and actually meant it. She felt sympathy for a young man she hardly knew. If it had been Ezra - well, Chris Larabee might be a walking dead man now.
But the biggest part of her was proud, damn it all. Proud that her son had found friends of the caliber of these men. Eccentric men, no doubt about that. But men who would protect him, even if they didn't understand him.
Or maybe, because they didn't understand him.
Whichever the case, she lifted her glass, holding it out to him.
From habit, he lifted his, touching it to hers, even as he stammered, "Mother, I have no idea what you're - "
At that moment, Josiah appeared in the mirror, walking down the boardwalk toward the saloon's doors. She finished off the rest of her drink and rose, unmindful of whatever words her son was trying to say. "I'll see you in the morning, Ezra - but not too early. I suspect you need your rest."
She caught up to the tall man as he stepped inside, and was rewarded with a large, toothy smile. "Leaving, Ma'am?" he asked, tipping his hat politely.
"Might I inconvenience you for an escort, Mr. Sanchez? I'd love to hear about your evening's adventures." She was already slipping her arm into his.
He glanced past her at Ezra, who was still at the bar.
Maude said a little more quietly, "We've chatted, as I suspect was your intent when you went off to play stable boy with Mr. Tanner. Everything is fine."
He chuckled, holding the door open for her as they stepped out onto the boardwalk. "A lovely night, then," he said, "for almost everyone."
As if to support his argument, a lone figure stepped out of the livery, walking slow, hat pulled low. The gait was even and long, and familiar at this point.
Beside her, Josiah sighed, a soft sound.
"He was quite the champion today," Maude said slowly, watching as Vin moved down the middle of the street. "I have to say, I was rather intimidated by his performance earlier - I can respect Mr. Wheeler's desire to divulge the truth."
Josiah put one hand over hers where it rested on his arm and squeezed reassuringly. "Vin spent some time with some Indian tribes," he said quietly. "Think he picked up some methods of persuasion that are a little more intimidating than we realize."
"Indians?" She watched his as he moved past them, not turning toward the saloon but continuing on. "I understand that they do view many things differently." Relationships among them, if she remembered the rumors she had heard in the far corners of the St. Louis social salons. Sex, any way.
Vin had made it almost to the other end of town, turning now toward the jail.
"Very spiritual people," Josiah said, and it took her a second to remember that she had made the last comment. "Definitely have a different view of the world."
"Mr. Tanner seems to as well," she said casually.
Josiah took a step, encouragingly, and they were walking down the boardwalk toward the hotel. "If I were a jealous man, I'd be worrying about the attention you keep paying to Vin. You interested in him?"
The tone was light, but the words were serious, she knew. Serious enough to make her laugh outright.
"You have nothing to fear, Mr. Sanchez," she leaned in closer to him, letting her body say what her mouth could not. "I find Mr. Tanner fascinating, but he is no competition for you, dear sir."
Josiah looked down at her, his teeth bright in the shadows. "Glad to hear it. I'd hate to have to hurt a good man."
As the reached the hotel and he held the door for her, she asked, "Speaking of which, how is Mr. Larabee? Ezra mentioned that he was injured."
Josiah stepped in behind her, once more taking her arm. "Chris is hurt, but nothing he can't handle. Nathan took care of it, and Mrs. Travis is going to make certain Chris has proper care tonight."
She looked up at him, arching one eyebrow, but saying nothing.
Josiah looked down at her, arching an eyebrow of his own.
But as they ascended the stairs, planning to do what they assumed Mrs. Travis and Mr. Larabee to be doing as well, Maude couldn't stop the hope that Vin would find someone to care for him through the night as well. He could probably stand some affection, as he didn't seem likely to get the attention he truly wanted.+ + + + + + +
"I'm sorry, Mother," Ezra said easily, but he actually held a sort of concern. "It came yesterday afternoon, on the late stage. I tried to locate you but you were, apparently, out." He put down his fork and lifted his water glass, but his eyes never left her face. "For the evening, as well."
Maude smiled, not looking at the letter that lay on the table before her. She had recognized the familiar script as soon as Ezra had taken it from his pocket. "I thank you for your concern, dear boy."
He put his glass down, leaning forward just a little and lowering his voice. "Might I inquire as to your whereabouts?"
She held his gaze, despite the fact that she was surprised by the directness of his question. Even though at some level, she knew she shouldn't be; Ezra had, indeed, changed.
"Mother?" he prompted when the silence dragged on.
"A gentleman does not - " she started, only to be interrupted as he leaned even closer, almost getting his cravat into the buttered biscuit on his plate.
"But a son does, Mother," he interjected, his voice flat but very quiet. "I was concerned for you."
It was disconcerting to say the least, a myriad of emotions coming to the fore. Her tongue responded from habit. "I am quite able to care for myself, Ezra, as I would hope you know - "
He reached across the table, taking her fingers in his. The touch, polite but not common between them, stopped her as effectively as a slap. "It doesn't mean that I don't worry for you, Mother. I always worry for you."
She met his eyes, saw the sincerity, and did something she hadn't done in quite a while: she blushed. But her voice was smooth and calm as she answered, "You are a dear son. I forget sometimes that you are no longer a boy of twelve to be protected - in the ways that I could," she added, acknowledging the way she had raised him.
For his part, he smiled back, conceding her admission. "There are some things from which you no longer need to protect me. I just hope that you are . . . protecting yourself." He tapped the envelope between them. "It would seem that you have found another protector as well."
She sighed, wishing she could avoid this, but knowing that she had been too optimistic. "Marcus is a dear, but he . . ." She hesitated, her own feelings conflicted.
Ezra's hand moved, slowly and carefully falling to rest on hers. "Are you in trouble?" he asked.
Oh yes, she thought, I am in trouble. But not the kind you expect. "Marcus believes himself to be in love with me," she smiled, looking up to meet his eyes.
Ezra studied her for a moment, then asked, very quietly, "And do you reciprocate his affections?"
The question surprised her, both in its boldness and in the sweetness she heard behind it. "What ever would lead you to ask such?" she asked, not sure how she wanted to answer.
Ezra shrugged. "I gather from his words within it," he glanced to the letter, "that you do not owe him money nor is he seeking you out for retribution for a game gone bad. In truth, I infer that the two of you had worked together, and quite successfully. So for you to have, as it puts it so delicately, 'slipt away from him', I assume that you did so for a very good reason. If you don't owe him money, and you worked well together, I would assume that the only reason you did not accept his proposal is that you are uncertain of your own feelings towards him?"
She took a deep breath, barely managing not to look away.
Not that she needed to; Ezra knew her too well - far better than she had expected.
"Or perhaps, too certain of your feelings?" The last was so quiet that she wondered if she'd actually heard it - until his fingers squeezed her.
"Marcus is a delightful young man," she answered, forcing a smile. "But I fear that we have too many differences for any sort of long-term relationship. I am surprised that he would waste the time searching for me."
Ezra tilted his head to one side, his gaze sharp. "You are, aren't you? Is it because he is younger?"
She drew her hand away from his and lifted her wine glass, sipping to buy a little time. This was certainly not a conversation she had ever expected to have with her son. Indeed, it was not a conversation she'd ever expected to have. She had no friends with whom to discuss her problems, for she never stayed anywhere long enough to know anyone. Or more to the point, to allow anyone to know her.
Marcus had been the closest she'd allowed anyone in years, and that had been quite the mistake, hadn't it?
"Mother?" Ezra called her back to the present.
"You know my views on affections," she answered. "They lead no where good."
But even as she said it, she knew she was wrong. And as if to prove her point, the door to the restaurant opened to admit Josiah. Someone she was now quite fond of. Perhaps too fond of.
The big man caught her eye, nodding to her and Ezra. He didn't start forward, until, surprisingly, Ezra lifted a hand and called, "Mr. Sanchez, join us?"
"Ezra," she hissed, almost stunned by her son's presumption. But Josiah, with a slight hesitation, started toward them, his steps measured as if he expected a trick of some sort.
"Perhaps," Ezra said, looking at her, "your views on affection could stand some revision." He smiled, but it wasn't snide. "I suspect that in some ways, they have already started to change."
Before she could conjure any sort of reply, Josiah was standing beside the table, hat in his hands, nodding to Ezra and discussing the world outside.
Leaving her to think about the letter, about Marcus writing to Ezra asking after her, and announcing to her son that he was coming to Four Corners, in hopes of talking to Ezra about locating her. She was shocked at the man's audacity, not as much that he was coming here as that he did, apparently, want to try to convince her.
It was all so unclear, except that it wasn't. She could either go to him or run away from him, but no matter which way she chose, she knew she had to leave as soon as possible.
"Mother?" Ezra's voice called her attention, his tone letting her know that she had missed something significant in the conversation.
"I apologize," she said, looking across to him then up to Josiah. "I find myself feeling a little indisposed. Would you gentlemen please excuse me?" With a quick glance to her son, who nodded his consent, she gathered the letter up along with her handbag and her gloves, setting her napkin beside her plate.
Ezra rose as she did, concerned and solicitous, but his glance told her that he understood. When he offered his arm to her, she took it, smiling at Josiah, trying not to let herself worry at his look of concern. He was a wonderful man, one she didn't deserve. No matter what else occurred, she would not let herself hurt him.
As if knowing her mind, when they reached the door to her room, Ezra turned to her and said, "I find myself fond of Mr. Sanchez. He's a good man, Mother - and despite what you think, there are a few of those in this world."
She unlocked her door, then turned back to him, one of her hands finding its way to smooth along the lapel of his red jacket. "Indeed, dear boy, he is a good man. I find that I rather like the men with whom you associate here. Even poor Mr. Tanner has his redeeming qualities."
Ezra frowned, but nodded once. "I gather that you will be leaving soon," he said, not a question. "Might I enquire as to your destination?"
"You might," she said amiably. "And as soon as I determine it, I shall share it with you. Please give my regards to Josiah."
Ezra nodded, then leaned in, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "As you wish."
Then he was gone, leaving her to wonder at the strange twists of fate.+ + + + + + +
Everything was packed - not that she had unpacked a lot, not that she had had a lot to unpack. It had taken her very little time, actually, to get it all ready and together, most of the bags filled with bricks and rocks - 'Appearances are everything', as she'd said to Ezra when she'd arrived. Now, they stood together near the door, her one last bag to be prepared in the morning with her night clothes and her daily things, her make-ups and jewelries. It was the smallest bag and the one that would go with her if she had to make a mad dash, abandoning the rest of her collection.
She sat at the window, waiting, watching him as he walked across the street. He was predictable, waiting to call on her as the sun came to earth, the day waning.
As he disappeared beneath the roof of the boardwalk, working his way inside the hotel and up to her door, she let her eyes drift along the street. There were still a few people about, some lighting the night fires, some closing up shop, some heading into the saloon or restaurant or even the hotel here. She caught sight of a lone figure in the distance, walking toward the livery, the gate slow and easy and in its own way, sad. Mr. Tanner, moving away from them.
She wondered where he had been these past few days, since the rescue. She'd seen Mr. Larabee about, keeping company with Mrs. Travis, or more likely, Billy. His arm was in a sling and she'd seen him sitting on the boardwalk, the boy at his side whittling, the man watching closely and offering help. Not once in those times had she seen his 'shadow' nearby or even in town. Nor had she seen him in her brief visits to the saloon the past few evenings - not that she'd been there very late, but for some reason, she didn't think he'd kept late hours anyway.
A soft knock at the door and she called, "Come in, Josiah." She kept her seat, watching as Vin disappeared into the livery, listening to the door close behind her visitor.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked, moving into the room. He set his hat on the bed, then settled himself beside it, not too close to her but not too far away. He was feeling her unsettledness, she knew, he was that intuitive.
"I received some news that I'm still not certain I know how to respond to," she answered truthfully, still gazing out the window.
"Seems you've made one decision," he said quietly, acknowledging the state of her room. "Must be some pretty bad news."
She shifted, looking over to find him watching her, his eyes kind. Like everything else about him, his manner, his concern, his affection for her - kind.
"I don't know," she said truthfully. "I honestly don't, Josiah, and perhaps that's the saddest part of it all."
Now he was the one looking out the window. "This have to do with the man you're running from?"
She shouldn't have been surprised - it seemed to be the very nature of how things worked in this little town that everyone knew more about you than you wanted.
"I'm not actually running from Marcus," she answered tiredly.
"Perhaps not," he agreed. "But you are running from something having to do with him."
She turned to look back out the window as well, noting the horse coming out of the livery now, the familiar slouch of its rider. It seemed too close, suddenly, what she was feeling, the confusion, the want and the need all bundled up with the awareness of how dangerous it was. How badly it could go wrong, how badly it could hurt her.
How much her pain was like that of the man riding out of town this very moment.
"You believe in love?" she asked softly, remembering the flash of pain she'd witnessed several nights ago on those sharp features.
He shifted on the bed and she suspected he was smiling. "I believe it exists, yes, and I believe that it comes in a lot of different forms. But if you're going to ask me if I believe that it conquers all or solves all problems, well, I'd have to say no."
She watched the lean figure riding into the darkness. "I think it's one of the most evil of things," she murmured. "Little good comes from it, but quite a lot of pain."
"Even a mother's love?" he asked softly.
She smiled. "It has its own kinds of pain. But I suspect, in its own way, it's worth it." She shook her head though as the horse and rider vanished completely into the growing gloom. "I do plan to leave tomorrow, on the early stage. I won't mislead you, Josiah, I don't know quite yet what I intend to say, but I do know that I have to resolve this situation with Marcus, as much for my own peace of mind as for his demands."
"Do you love him?" he asked, and there was a sort of fear in his voice, one she was both flattered and pleased to hear.
"Yes, but not in the way that you mean," she said after a while. "He's passionate and devoted and all the things that most women would want from a man. But he's also young. Not just in the physical sense, but in the emotional."
He shifted again, stretching his long legs before him. "You fear that he would tire of you?"
She laughed. "I know he would. I don't think I wish to wait for it to happen." True night had fallen, dusk giving way to the darkness, and she rose, reaching for the candle she had lit earlier.
"Are you certain?" he asked, giving her pause. "What if you're wrong, what if he does love you enough to keep his promise?"
It was the heart of the argument, the one hope she had been holding close since she had read the letter.
But oddly, hearing it from someone else's lips, from someone she had come to know and recognize as a true friend, she understood with certainty that her hope had been just that - hope.
She replaced the candle on the table and turned toward him. "Then I fear that I should become quite bored with him. There is little more unexciting than complete adoration, my dear man." She held out a hand to him, the invitation clear.
He gazed up at her for several seconds before taking the offering. "You don't owe me," he said quietly, his fingers squeezing in a way that reminded her of Ezra's touch earlier.
"No," she agreed, "and that is something even more valuable. It would seem, Mr. Sanchez, that you and your friends have taught me the same lesson that you have taught my son - the reality of friendship."
He grinned, pulling her close. "The great thing about friends, Maude - you can always come back to them."+ + + + + + +
"There is no such thing in the world as luck. There never was a man who could go out in the morning and find a purse full of gold in the street to-day, and another to-morrow, and so on, day after day. He may do so once in his life; but so far as mere luck is concerned, he is as liable to lose it as to find it. "Like causes produce like effects." If a man adopts the proper methods to be successful, "luck" will not prevent him. If he does not succeed, there are reasons for it, although, perhaps, he may not be able to see them." P.T Barnum, The Art of Getting Money (1880)She sat back as the stage picked up speed, willing herself not to look back. They would be there, Ezra and Josiah, the two she would most miss, Buck and JD, arguing over the reality of Buck's 'animal magnetism', and Nathan, laughing at the two of them while worrying over Josiah.
Larabee was somewhere on the road behind her, Billy Travis riding with him, on their way to go fishing, if her ears had heard his cries to his mother correctly.
It was a lovely little town - dry and dusty, no decent drinks, barely decent food, no money to speak of - but men she liked and respected, damn them.
She sighed, taking out her deck of cards and cutting it one-handed, practicing her technique. The stage was moving faster now, the rocking of the vehicle posing a challenge she well knew.
She still didn't know what she was going to say to Marcus but she did know that at some point, she would send a letter back to Ezra, and another back to Josiah. And in them, she would truthful, for they deserved that at the very least.
She saw the figure on the rise, far in the distance, and it took her several seconds to understand that it was a man. He stood tall and straight, an outline against the hard blue sky and the yellow waves of sandy ground. She couldn't tell if he faced her or the other way, his body indistinguishable in the bright light, defined by the outline of the hat and jacket. A faint breeze blew, and the fabric stirred, fringed at the shoulders.
And she thought of love and loss and sweet smiles and angry eyes.
The answer came to her then, not just the words she had said to Josiah the night before, but a sudden deep understanding of their meaning. She did love Marcus. But it was not a lot to last, not one that she could ever keep.
Like the man on the ridge, looking out across the desert, she, too, was alone with her own truth. And like the man out there, her best recourse was to take what little control she had and walk away before the choice was taken from her.
She leaned toward the window, watching as his silhouette passed from her sight, and wishing him luck with his heart, for she knew there was, in love, no fairness.