"Ven, you shouldn't have tried to get up so soon," Ezra scolded as he supported the tracker against the back of the wagon.Vin could see that Standish was worried. "My head's hard, Ez, I'll be all right. Just give me a few minutes here."
"More than that, cousin." Ezra spoke meaningfully as his eyes slid to the side in a silent message.
Vin followed the quiet signal and saw that 'Quinn' was still standing there watching. With an effort, he straightened back to his feet, ignoring Ezra's fussing hands. "Howdy."
Ezra sighed and straightened beside him, clearly giving up. He cleared his throat and spoke softly. "Ven, this is Quinn O'Hara. He works with this carnival. He and I found you on the trail."
Vin nodded slightly, not trying for more since even that produced waves of dizziness and leaned back against the wagon. "Ez, we got to ride. Find Chris, he was shot."
"Shot?" Standish's already pale skin drained to white paste and he seemed to sag, then Quinn was behind him, hands around his waist, providing support.
Vin eyed the intimacy and pursed his lips. Before he could say anything more, Ezra had pushed O'Hara's hands back and away and stepped closer to Tanner. "Ven," the intensity of Standish's tone wiped away the usually melodious southern accent and left a flat, hard sound behind, "where is he?"
"Don't know." In frustration, Vin wiped at his face, then met green eyes that seemed to bore into him. "We were ambushed on the trail." He cast another glance at O'Hara, still hovering behind Ezra. "We were riding out to find you."
Surprise blanked Ezra's eyes for a moment, his normally placid expression gone as if it had never been. "Me?"
"Yeah." Vin stood slowly, testing his balance cautiously. "Chris said you and he'd had a misunderstanding and you took off."
Standish turned away from him now, and paced off toward a small campfire that Vin now noticed for the first time. Watching Ezra move in jerky steps toward that fire and then back, Vin had a few moments to take in the area around the three of them. A loosely arranged camp of wagons and carts, people and horses, mules, and even a team of oxen, populated the scene. Most moving slowly in those morning rituals of waking and starting a day. Where ever he was, it was some big group. Before he could really notice more, Ezra was back standing in front of him, looking serious.
"I don't understand."
Vin sighed. "Maybe we could talk private like?" He looked over at O'Hara. The man had been watching Ezra with concern and now turned to stare at Tanner, mutely suspicious if Vin read him right.
"Yes, yes, of course." Ezra patted Vin's shoulder gently, then still resting one hand on Vin's upper arm, he turned to face the man that Vin was beginning to dislike. "Quinn, I'm sorry, would you mind giving us a bit of privacy?"
O'Hara stepped back, flushing, and Vin's dislike subsided as the man nodded and walked away without a word. Maybe he was just being a friend?
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Buck sat in the saddle impatiently, fingering his horse's reins. Two days with no word from Chris or Vin, and no sign of Ezra, had been enough. When Nathan finally swung up onto his mount, Wilmington grunted approval and swung his eyes over the rest of his friends. JD was sawing the reins on his prancing horse, pulling the little mare back away from the livery entry. Josiah was sitting relaxed and slumped on his horse's back, blue eyes alert. With a nod and tip of his hat to the two livery boys who had helped get the mounts ready, Buck tugged his gray around toward the open street. "Let's ride."
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Nathan shook his head tiredly as he watched JD and Buck trudge out of the local jail. The men had clearly not found any news nor any clue about their missing friends. Josiah, seated on his horse, next to Nathan and his mount, sent a weary glance over at his friend. This was the second town they'd tried. Both were fairly close to the last town, Condon, where a telegram from Chris Larabee had originated. It seemed like Chris and Vin, still traveling together then, had since disappeared off the map while trying to find Ezra.
JD Dunne walked up to his horse and slipped the reins from the hitching post without a word, eyes downcast. Buck looked at their waiting friends and shrugged dispiritedly. Josiah, watching the gloom settling deeper, sat back in his saddle and rolled his shoulders, slumping further back still and from that angle, surveying the dusty little town of Two Step. Two steps likely all it would take to cross it. His eyes stopped their scan at the single saloon. Sometimes the best place for information wasn't the law.
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Soho Jack and Maryjane welcomed Ezra to their morning campfire, nodding curiously at his cousin. No one was quite sure what to make of Ezra's cousin appearing suddenly, injured and possibly in trouble. The man, Ven, walked slowly at Ezra's elbow. The two stopped in front of the carnival boss and his wife.
"So, Ezra, is Ven staying with us?" Jack was willing to extend his hospitality to a relative of his good friend.
Ezra licked his lower lip and eased down on to a handy crate, watching as Vin gingerly perched on another. Ezra sensed Quinn somewhere behind him. He knew that Quinn had shadowed them at a distance, still not sure about Vin. While it was nice that O'Hara was so concerned, Ezra was growing a bit impatient with the man's hovering protectiveness. Dismissing Quinn from his mind, he stifled a sigh and focused on his dear friends Jack and Maryjane.
"No, at least, not for very long." Ezra turned slightly to look at Vin Tanner who gazed back stoically. "These are the people I mentioned, Ven. I trust them." Of course, not with Vin's true name, but he and Vin had already quietly discussed that. The best secret was the one never told.
Vin's clear blue eyes were clearer, more alert now as they panned back to Jack and his wife. He nodded, "Ma'am, sir."
Ezra spoke again before his friends could begin any difficult conversations. "We have a friend in trouble. He was traveling with Ven and is gone. We both believe he may be in serious jeopardy."
Inside, Ezra's stomach clenched. Oh, god, Chris! He had to hold himself stiffly so that he wouldn't rock back and forth in his agony of worry. Vin had explained Chris' determination to seek out Ezra and mend their parting. To Ezra's relief and despair, he'd learned how wrong he'd been about any relationship between the two men. He felt sick at his stupidity. If only he'd let Chris explain! This was all his fault.
Jack sat up a bit and leaned forward but didn't comment, just listened closely, his eyes encouraging.
Ezra licked his lips again, a nervous mannerism that he'd never been able to break completely when among people he trusted or respected. He met Jack's eyes. "As soon as Vin can travel, probably later today, we are going to head out."
"But where?" Maryjane broke in, having heard some of what had gone before from Jack, she looked both concerned and confused.
"We'll track him, ma'am." Vin had both fists on his knees, bracing his balance and fighting off lightheadedness.
"What about that other pack of fellows? The ones who thought Ven here was their bounty?" Jack rubbed his hands together and then picked up his cooling coffee mug, flicking his gaze back and forth between Ezra and his cousin.
"I hope they have departed permanently."
"Ezra!" Maryjane cocked her head to the side in disbelief. "You 'hope'?"
Ezra hesitated. He really didn't want to discuss those bounty hunters but Maryjane was right, and it was the same point he'd tried to make with Vin earlier. They were, just as likely as not, lurking in the area because as cons went, his little veil of words was hardly very convincing to even himself. The men had ridden off because of the large number of persons facing off against them, not because they thought they'd made an error.
He tried to decide what to say now. There were times when the truth was much easier. Mother would roll over in her proverbial grave if she ever knew I even contemplated that for a moment! But, it was true, this was becoming very complicated. All I really want to do is go find Chris.
Ezra dropped his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. But Chris is Vin's friend, too, I can't leave Vin behind. He stole a glance over at Vin, only to meet those bright blue eyes staring back with intensity. He looked away. But, Vin will be in grave danger if he accompanies me. Exposed in the wilderness, I would have trouble defending him from five determined bounty hunters. For some reason, he just couldn't seem to think straight. Bowing his head again, he closed his eyes, then looked up.
"Yes."
What else could he say?
Vin realized that things were not going well and decided to speak up. "I'll be fine. Me and Ez will travel faster alone."
Everyone turned to study the tracker whose pale complexion testified to less than perfect health. Ezra cleared his throat, "So, you see, Jack, I shan't be able to help out anymore. I'm sorry."
Realizing he and Maryjane were being told to stop the interrogation, Jack clapped his hands to his knees and pushed up to his feet. "I'll miss you, Ezra! And not just for all the work, either." He circled the fire to reach Standish as the young man rose to his feet to meet him. Without hesitation, Jack pulled the southerner in for a hug and pat on the back. "You take care of yourself, boy," Jack whispered in one ear. He drew away to arms' length, still gripping Ezra's sturdy shoulders. "And know you always have a place with us."
Ezra smiled shyly at the emotional sentiment and nodded.
All business, Jack released his friend and said, "We should break camp in about a half hour. You'll come with us until Ven feels well enough to sit a horse?"
"Yes, of course." Ezra added, "I'll help get the tigers ready to travel."
"Good, good." Jack caught one of Maryjane's hands and helped her to her feet. He frowned to see his ringmaster, Quinn O'Hara, standing in the shadow of a nearby wagon, clearly listening in. With a shrug, he looked back over his shoulder and said, "We'll be in Two Step by late today. They claim that they have plenty of folk coming in from the surrounds for a one-night performance." He hesitated, then asked, "You sure you can't stay with us until tomorrow?"
Ezra fidgeted, something he hadn't done since he was a child. Somewhere out there Chris was hurt, possibly dead. He shuddered at the thought. If only he knew more! He wanted to scream instead of standing here exchanging pleasantries. "Jack," remonstration clear in his voice.
Jack held up both hands in a placating gesture, his enormous handlebar mustache quivering as he quickly apologized. "Sorry, sorry!"
Maryjane's plump hand reached out and wound around one of his. She turned to Ezra. "You do what you need to do. Tell us if we can help. Anytime. Anyway." She smiled a dimply, double-chinned smile of warmth that included Vin as well as Ezra. Then she led her husband toward the back of their wagon, leaving the two men by the fire.
Vin looked blankly at Ezra. "Tigers?"
Behind them, a shadow faded away.
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Josiah eased his large body into a rather rickety wooden armchair, one of several randomly scattered around a battered table at the back of the small, smoky saloon. No-name saloon in a puddle-jumper town. He quirked a smile as he stretched stiff muscles and waved a long arm at the bartender. Around him, Nathan, Buck, and JD were settling into similar beaten and creaky seats. "Some spirits might warm our own, my friends."
Buck was uncharacteristically silent, simply nodding as he dragged his wide brimmed hat from his head and whacked it on one extended thigh. JD coughed at the dust that produced and leaned away from his friend but didn't comment.
Nathan sat alertly on the edge of his seat, hands clasped in front of him on the scarred table as he rested his weight on forearms and elbows. His wide shoulders were rounded as if he was seeking to keep their counsel private. "Lots of excitement for such a small town."
The others nodded. It had been strange. Even as they'd finished their inquiries at the jail, they'd all noticed the unnatural influx of all sorts of country folk, farmers from the looks of some, others ranchers and hired hands. They all seemed to be converging on tiny Two Step.
A burly man in work clothes tipped his chair over toward the Four Corners lawmen's table. "That's because the carnival is coming in today. Gonna put on a show!" He grinned, revealing crooked, stained teeth.
Before any of them could ask him a question, someone at the fellow's table tapped him on the shoulder and passed him a beer. He turned away with a laugh as he joined in the joking talk at his own table, ignoring the quiet lawmen.
"A carnival?" JD tipped his head to the side and stared around at the gradually filling room. They could all see the smiling faces and hear the expectant, cheerful chatter. "Maybe we should stay a while? Might run into the boys, or hear something about them."
Buck, who'd straightened in his chair and had been surveying the growing crowd, slowly nodded. He was getting more worried as they searched without success for their missing friends. This confab might help them find out more. He reached forward to pick up the whiskey glass that Josiah had just filled for him. Eyes narrowed and face slightly downcast, he let his ears do the work, focused on hearing any stray remarks that might help locate Chris, Vin or Ezra.
Nathan watched Buck. The ex-ranger was their de facto leader now and the change in his personality was intriguing. From carefree to quiet, thoughtless to thoughtful. Nathan had never suspected the 'Buck' beneath the one they all thought they knew. This Buck, well, they'd probably seen glimpses of him in shootouts with outlaws, or on the trail of some, but this Buck disappeared the minute things calmed down again. This Buck was nearly as scary as Chris Larabee could be, and was someone to respect and follow. Nathan felt much more comfortable with this Buck leading them in search of the others. This Buck wouldn't mess up. He craned his neck around as he tried to watch as much of the room as he could, they'd have to be alert to any chance clues.
"Sounds good," Josiah tossed back his short glass of whiskey and then regretfully pushed the empty glass away. Folding his hands on his chest, he leaned back comfortably in his chair, stretching his long legs beneath the table. Chin nearly resting on his chest as well, he eyed the roomful of men around them from beneath his floppy hat brim.
JD stood up. "I'll get us some beer chasers." Then he was slipping through the growing crowd.
Buck instantly sat up further and then casually stood to rest hip-shot against a post behind their corner table. Arms folded, he kept his eyes on JD's bowler bobbing through the room. While he might deny it if confronted, his protective streak was pretty wide when it came to the kid. Hell, to all of his friends. Damn it, Chris, what did you do?
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Caleb Chandler heaved and Marty Fisk pushed. Together they shoved Larabee back up into the saddle, seating him in it this time. The two men muttered curses under their breaths but didn't challenge their boss' orders to nursemaid the man. They weren't any too careful with him, though. Both hid grins as Larabee wheezed and coughed, then tried to suppress a cry as Fisk squeezed hard on the man's bandaged shoulder. This was almost fun.
Bockman waited impatiently until his now smaller crew settled into their saddles, with Harvey holding the reins on Larabee's mount. "We're heading for Two Step."
"Hell, Mr. Bockman, that's a mighty small place, can spit and not see it." Caleb scratched at his shaggy head in puzzlement.
"Someone's due in there that I want to see." It was all he was willing to say. He wasn't prepared to admit to his stepson yet, not to these deadbeat trail hands. And for Larabee, it would be a surprise. He smiled unpleasantly. A nasty surprise if things went well. And I get a son back. Not too bad. He hi-yupped his cowpony and the small group headed out, following their tracker, Possum.
Chris held tightly to the pommel of his saddle with bound hands. He swayed widely, unable to keep his balance with the head injury still making him dizzy and sickish. One of the riders shoved him back toward center as he swayed again. Shit! The bastard made sure to use a fist and aim at his bad shoulder to do it. Chris bit back a curse and sank as deeply as he could into the saddle seat. All he could do for now was endure, but his head was clearing and he would keep watch. There'd come a time to get out of this, all he had to do was watch and wait.
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Lonnie Slater had been volunteer town marshal of Two Step for nearly two years. Nothing much happened in the tiny town. They had no bank, relying on Eagle Bend for that and for more. Two Step had a saloon, a small dry goods and feed store, and a blacksmithy with stables. There was a boarding house beside the saloon and a little building for the stagecoach company office. A few small houses, little more than shacks, and the jail. Lonnie was the town mortician, town barber, 'doctor', postal clerk and stagecoach station master. Mostly, he didn't have much to do.
Today would be different. He'd already 'deputized' every able bodied man in town. That wasn't saying much. But, with the whole surrounds coming in for the carnival, things could get real lively. He'd been surprised at the visit from the Four Corners' sheriff. That was a much bigger town than Two Step. The man, damn near kid, had a big rangy sidekick and two more big men who stayed horseback while the sheriff came in to speak with Lonnie. Now Lonnie was intent on keeping on eye on that gang. They might claim to be the law, but they were a strange looking bunch, strange and dangerous. That set of wicked throwing knives on the Negro's back was enough to raise the hair on his neck. Lonnie stood in the back of the saloon, in the opposite corner from the lawmen, and watched.
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Quinn shook his head and wiped at his face with a damp cloth. He was feeling anything but calm. This stranger that Ezra claimed was a cousin was looking at him with suspicion and Ezra wanted to be with the cousin, had even asked Quinn to leave them be. Quinn was sweating and cold at the same time. His cheeks burned. Anger was simmering just below the surface. He wasn't ready to call it jealousy but he was feeling anxious and irritable. Ezra should be with Quinn. Ezra. Quinn's feelings seemed to coalesce even as he stood frozen, staring into the distance blankly. I love him. Need him. Want him to be with only me. Love him. Maybe I could find those bounty hunters? His sight sharpened as he began to scan the area around the camp more carefully. They didn't look like they believed Ezra's story about his cousin. If they're out there, still hanging around, I could find them. Ven needs to go so that Ezra doesn't fuss over the man anymore. Ven needs to go.
-End of Part 17-
Places in Between - 18
By MAC
Quinn saw Ezra settle his cousin up on one of the wagons before heading for the wheeled tiger cage. That would take him some time. Good. Quinn eased his way slowly forward. The wagons wouldn't roll until all the animals were ready and that included the tigers. He had a chance now to deal with the cousin or whoever the hell the man was.
Vin sat slumped back against the canvas-covered frame of the traveling wagon Ezra had picked. The wagon driver wasn't up on board yet, so he stared out at the road ahead. From what Jack said, it wasn't that far to Two Step. He was startled by a hand on his leg.
"Ven?" Quinn O'Hara looked up at him, face pale and drawn.
"Howdy, Quinn." Vin wasn't very sure of this man. Made his scalp itch. He shifted slightly so that the hand touching him dropped away.
"Wonder if we might have a few words before Ezra joins you?"
The polite request was hard to refuse and Vin thought he might finally learn what was happening here, so he nodded and dropped down to the ground. Once again he was surprised by his unsteadiness, rocking on his feet and caught by the other's strong hands.
"Easy now." Quinn looked into those incredible blue eyes and could see Ezra losing himself there. Quinn stared openly, losing his train of thought.
"Quinn?" Vin shook free of the supporting hands and stepped away, frowning, one hand going to the side of the wagon to brace himself as the ground seemed to dip and toss beneath him. Not as bad as earlier.
Bold dark eyes regained their sharpness and raven wing eyebrows drew together. "Ezra and I, well, we have something going, building here. I want to know how you fit into Ezra's life."
The blunt words were a challenge thrown down at Tanner's feet. He cocked his head and a tiny quirky smile grew. "We's cousins."
"I don't believe it." Quinn was close to growling now and one hand rested uneasily on the holster of his pistol.
Vin shrugged. "Not my worry." He flicked a glance up the trail and then back at this pushy stranger who thought he had some hold on Ezra. Time to bust that up. "Now, Chris, he's another thing altogether. You heard tell of the gunslinger, Chris Larabee?"
O'Hara stiffened and stepped back. "What has Larabee got to do with anything?"
"He and Ezra, they are kinda partners. He's the one who was riding with me, we were coming looking for Ezra." Vin paused and studied the clouds. "Figure now Ezra's likely gonna be looking for him." Vin lowered his cool eyes to the ringmaster's. "Figure they ain't going to be too happy if you try to get between them."
Quinn's mouth was hanging open by now. He shut it with a nearly audible snap and glared at Ezra's cousin. So that's the way it was. I knew Ezra was upset about something and said he was already with another. If this Ven is telling the truth, then it's Larabee. I need to keep Ezra here. If he goes off after Larabee, I'll lose him. Without another thought or word, O'Hara turned away from the other man.
Vin leaned back, relaxing. Looks like I just scared the bejezus out of this feller.
Quinn pulled his gun up out of the holster, bringing it back around in a full arm swing, and pistol-whipping 'cousin Ven' on the temple. The man dropped like a felled steer. Quinn wiped the barrel of his gun against his thigh and slipped it back in the holster, took a quick look around and saw that no one had witnessed his attack. Swiftly, he scuttled around the wagon, never looking back.
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Bockman led the way into the back of the livery. He'd left Harvey and Possum with Larabee, out behind the livery where he wouldn't be seen. The man was tied up tight to a post of the corral fence. Bockman kept Chandler and Fisk with him. They were going to check out the town and find out when the carnival show was due to arrive. It was still only midday.
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Ezra scratched behind Sindhaj's stiff rounded ear, enjoying the way she leaned into his touch, nearly forcing him down on one knee. He pulled away and crooned to the two ladies who were stretching luxuriously now and yawning prodigiously. With a chuckle, he slipped back out of the feeding door and onto the ground. With quick movements, he latched and secured the opening and spoke softly to the tigers that were up now and moving to their morning feast of deer quarters.
Ezra lowered the roll-down canvas and secured that luridly painted covering to the tie downs at the bottom edges of the tigers' caged wagon. That done, he brushed his hands together and strode off to check on Vin. Rounding a wagon, he sucked in a breath in fearful surprise to see Tanner sprawled and unconscious on the ground by the wagon's high wheel.
"Vin!" He dropped to his knees beside the Texan, looking quickly over his shoulder as he realized his mistake. Louder, he called, "VEN!" and carefully touched the man's face, finding traces of blood and rising bruise marks on one cheek. Shaking his head, he eased Vin up onto one thigh as he brushed dirt from the silent man's face. To his relief, Vin cracked open his eyes and looked back in confusion.
"Ez?"
"Yes, I'm here." His heart slowly resuming its normal beat, Ezra pushed one arm under Vin's shoulders and helped him sit up. "What happened? Did you fall off the wagon?" He wasn't sure that was possible, even though Vin had been dizzy, and the mark on the man's face seemed more concentrated than a mere fall would produce. He waited while Vin breathed slowly, eyes blinking. When those blue eyes sharpened and abruptly took on focus, Ezra felt his heart drop. The silent message of anger spoke before Vin opened his mouth.
"It was your 'friend' Quinn that did this," Vin growled, hand touching his own cheek lightly. He began to push himself more upright, adding, "Just took me by surprise, pistol-whipped me."
Ezra licked his lips, choking back a denial. Vin wouldn't lie. But why had Quinn done this? "Are you sure it was Quinn?"
"Yeah." Vin forced himself out of Ezra's supporting arm and up into a crouch. He held out a hand and accepted Ezra's help to rise to his feet. Swaying, he swallowed back bile and continued, "we was just talking. He got kind of contrary and I finally warned him off. Told him that you and Chris were pards."
"Pards?" Ezra didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or curse. That one little word spoke of so much and yet not nearly enough. "And what made you think Quinn needed to know about Chris?" he asked, more curious than concerned. He and Chris were solid, he knew that now, after his earlier conversations with Vin. It was just a question of reuniting and apologizing, abjectly. He tilted his head and searched his thoughts for why Quinn had acted so out of character.
Vin had successfully fought off the sickness of his latest concussion, at least for the moment, and braced himself with one hand gripping Ezra's nearest shoulder. "Ez, the man claimed that you and he, that you two were-"
"Were what?" Ezra asked in bewilderment at Vin's hesitation. Then suddenly, it came to him. Quinn had been pushing for Ezra to be more than just a friend, to share a blanket with him. The southerner licked his lips again and shook his head as Vin answered.
"Ezra, he said you two were 'together.'" It was as close to being explicit as the normally quiet and reserved man could get without feeling outright embarrassed.
"It's not true, Vin," Ezra whispered, letting his forehead rest on the trackers for this private conversation, using the man's true name in his sincerity. "He might want me, but he hasn't had me and he won't. Ever." Raising a hand to stroke against Vin's darkening bruise, Ezra let his bright eyes meet the serious blue ones of his friend. "I belong to Chris Larabee, heart and soul."
Tanner's free hand came up to close over Ezra's reassuring one, cupping it to his cheek gently. "I know, pard, I know." He closed his eyes, then reopened them and met the sure crystal green eyes looking back. He nodded. Vin took Ezra's captured hand and eased it down, then clasped it tightly for a moment before letting go. "Guess we better find old Quinn before he does something really stupid."
"That, my friend, he has already done!" Ezra squeezed Vin's hand back.
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John Acorn listened intently to Jim Hansey's latest report. Hansey had seen one of the men walk up to Tanner and talk to him, then strike him and flee. Looked like it was time to ride in there and snatch them a bounty. About time, for sure.
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The wagons were on the move, efficiently repacked and on their way in much less time than Vin could have imagined. He was back inside the wagon he'd first woke in. Ezra had insisted and he couldn't find the energy to argue. He hurt in more places now. He touched his spectacularly colored cheekbone with a sigh. His head was spinning. He rubbed at his beard that was becoming alarmingly long now. It wasn't just a shadow anymore, but a downright shaggy beginning to a solid beard. Won't be enough to hide me from them bounty hunters, he decided, not liking the feel of it.
Ezra periodically popped his head inside the closed and tied off canvas at the rear of the wagon, checking to make sure Vin was all right. It was kind of silly, but Vin found that he liked the way Ezra was taking this nurse-maiding so seriously. Showed that the man was finally lowering his walls, letting friends into his heart. 'Bout time.
Quinn had disappeared. The wagon train had been searched, but he was nowhere to be found. A horse was discovered missing from the riding remuda.
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"We'll be on the outskirts of Two Step soon, Ezra," Jack commented from his mount. The two men were riding at the point now that Quinn had left. "Your cousin doing better?"
"Yes, he's recovering, though I don't want him on a horse yet. Not after another rap to his head." Ezra eased his seat and twisted to look back at the line of carnival wagons and riders.
"Hum, about that," Jack hesitated, then plunged into the idea that he and Maryjane had bandied about. "Not like you two can ride off yet, is it?"
"No," Ezra looked cautiously out of the corners of his eyes at his old friend, hearing the subtle shades of prodding.
"MJ and I were talking." Jack turned his attention to the first buildings rising up above the crest of the road now. "Got an idea to keep your cousin safe from those bounty hunters."
Ezra stirred in his saddle, Chaucer developed a momentary catch in his gait at his master's discomfort. "But he's not a wanted man." Even to Ezra, his words didn't seem to have a ring of truth. Too much had happened, the shallow con lay between them, ignored.
"I've got eyes," Jack said quietly, still facing forward. "That's his business, and yours. Seems a nice enough fellow. Stay with us tonight. We can keep both of you safe from those men in case Quinn did anything else really foolish."
Straightening in the saddle, Ezra stroked Chaucer's curving neck and stole a look over at Jack. "What do you have in mind?"
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Chris let his head hang down on his chest, ignoring the slow burn in his shoulder and the ache in his skull. Both were subsiding. His throat was dry and sore, his neck felt swollen twice its size, but at least he could breathe. He made no attempt to speak to the two men lounging in the shade near his feet.
Somewhere behind him, he could hear the muffled sounds of a livery's normal business. Horses grunting, huffling, the tack tack of their shoed feet on the planks of the runway between stalls. Someone was tinging at an iron shoe with a hammer, the sound distinctive and carrying.
All he could see was an empty corral, scattered with loose straw and mud and spatters of horse manure, adding pungency to the air. The sun was warming and he was exposed to its full radiance. Felt good for now, his clothing finally drying, but given time, it would dry him out too.
He felt the rough boards of the fence and the knobby post behind his back, his arms strung along the cross boards, straight out at his shoulders. An ache was building between his shoulder blades to match the rest of his hurts.
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"Well, hot damn." Buck drew himself up in his seat, his posture as much as his words alerting his friends as they sat in the single sorry-looking saloon of Two Step. With a low-voiced curse, he brushed his hat off his head onto his chin-strap and knotted his hands into fists.
"Buck?" JD's worried voice broke the tense silence around him.
Buck ignored JD and the rest, his mind reeling back through time to Abilene and a dark part of his and Chris' history. He murmured, more to himself than to the men around him. "Bockman."
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Josiah and Nathan sat forward, Nate placing a calming hand, large and competent, on Wilmington's nearest forearm.
"Buck? Who's Bockman?" Jackson's voice was soft so that it didn't carry, mutely warning Buck to keep his voice down.
Wilmington nodded sharply toward the men who had just strolled into the saloon and were bellying up to the bar. "That tough old bird in the middle."
Josiah had to fight down a smile. That might answer Nathan's immediate question but didn't explain Buck's reaction. He shoved the bottle of whisky over in front of Buck, nodding to JD who promptly poured Wilmington another shot, pushing aside the beer mug that Buck had been nursing.
"And why are you cursing that man?"
Buck finally shifted his gaze from Bockman to look around at his friends, eyes finally settling on Josiah to answer his question. "He runs herds up to the rail heads." Buck paused to gather his thoughts. "A few years back, Chris killed his two sons in a gunfight in Abilene." Buck seemed to suddenly notice the whisky, snatching it up and downing it in a single fiery swallow.
By now, all four lawmen were hunched in close around the small round table, heads together. JD craned his neck to turn his face up to Buck's down-turned one. "You were there?"
"Yeah." Buck dropped the shot glass back down on the table and reached out for the bottle, only to still his hand and then push the whisky away with a slight shake of his head. "I was there. Chris had no choice, it was two to one." He looked up again and shrugged, "I was there, but I wasn't with Chris, just in the same town that day." He twisted around to face the bar and study the three dusty men who were all drinking deeply from thick glass beer mugs. "Back then, I just kept an eye on him. He was hurting pretty bad."
No one commented. By now, the whole group knew Larabee's history, at least the part about the murdered family. They exchanged glances and then looked over with Buck at the trail boss and his companions. No one spoke as Josiah, Nathan, and JD sat silent and considering. Buck had a bad feeling.
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Volunteer Marshall Lonnie Slater had come to attention at the reaction of the tall mustached fellow riding with the Four Corners sheriff. He turned his eyes to the bar, easily picking out the three cowmen who'd just arrived. Something about them had the other four men nearly quivering with concentration. Doesn't look good. He tapped one of his deputized townsmen. "Georgie? Go run get Ralph and Toby. We might be getting some trouble here." His friend gave a brief nod, eyes also flicking between the two groups of strangers, before swiftly dipping through the throng and out the doors to the street.
Lonnie edged closer to the bar rail, keeping everyone in view through the big mirror behind the bar.
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Quinn swung down off his stolen horse. Well, guess you could call it severance pay for his work with the carnival. He didn't really care how they took it, knowing that Jack would never prosecute him. He looked around the tiny town, evaluating the folks moving idly around the boardwalks, all eyes watching the north end of town with anticipation. Waiting for the carnival to arrive. If he was right, he might be lucky and spot some of those bounty hunters here. He hadn't met up with any on the short ride into town. There seemed to be only one saloon. That was the most likely spot to check for the men he'd only glimpsed once, when they'd tried to take Ezra's 'cousin' Ven in for bounty.
Quinn moved easily up onto the boardwalk and stepped up to the bat wing doors of the saloon.
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Chris swiped his sweaty face against his good shoulder, feeling the heat of the rising day as the sun's warming rays began to move past comfort and into burn. He'd heard enough to know that Bockman was hoping to track down a third son. Twisted bastard. Losing two sons wasn't enough for the man, he wanted to make his third son a murderer.
Larabee's movements slowed and his eyelids dropped as he found himself drowsing in the quiet heat, the two men set to watch him merely a murmur of sound as they talked in desultory fashion in the nearby shade, relaxed on bales of hay now. The drone of horse flies seemed louder and he shook his head to shake some off as he realized some had found him.
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"Nope." Vin backed up into a huddle of knees and elbows, eyes squinted down in a combination of pain and grim denial. "Not gonna."
"I did it for Pete's sake!" Ezra's exasperation didn't noticeably sway the retreating figure in the dark interior of the traveling wagon. He turned toward Maryjane who was smiling sweetly.
"Ezra, you just go on. Get in your Wilhelm costume, honey. I'll see to your cousin." Maryjane patted the southerner on the back and urged him back out of the wagon.
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Quinn pushed back the swing doors on the saloon and stood silhouetted in front of the sunlit street for a moment, eyes quickly surveying the full room, moving automatically to the bar and mirror behind it as if drawn there. Dark eyes met his. O'Hara nearly gaped in surprise. His stepfather stared back at him through the silvered glass reflection, the lined face worn further with time, expressionless except for the hot coals of his eyes. Quinn swallowed hard. He hadn't seen the man nor heard from him in years. Not since he'd been found in the blankets with one of the drovers on the man's trail drive.
Jutting his jaw out, Quinn broke eye contact and thrust the doors aside, stepping into the large room. He turned to one side, still seeking out the bounty hunters while silently cursing his bad luck in running into his stepfather. He moved toward the far end of the bar, wondering if the old man would let him be in peace.
Marty Fisk jerked back when Bockman clipped him in the ribs with an elbow. "Hey!" He backed away and looked up fearfully when he realized it was his trail boss. "Mr. Bockman?"
Clarence looked at Fisk in distaste, but the man was there to use. "Go tell my son that I want to talk with him," he muttered into his beer glass, eyes traveling to the end of the bar where Quinn stood with elbows hooked on the bar rail, his back resting on it.
"That guy that just walked in?" Fisk tossed his chin in O'Hara's direction questioningly. "He's your son?"
"Yes. Now go tell him." Bockman's eyes snapped with anger and Fisk moved quickly, stepping back and heading down the bar.
Buck stood up abruptly, eyebrows drawing down like thunderclouds. "He knows something about Chris, dammit. I know he does."
Nathan reluctantly stood, Josiah rising beside him as JD bounced to his feet, hands already seeking the grips of his twin Colts.
Lonnie grimaced. None of his men were back yet but if he didn't act now, it might be too late. He could see the menace in the tall mustached rider. Spitting out a chaw into a nearby spittoon, Slater settled his gun belt on his hips and began to move through the throng, eyes locked on the Four Corners men.
Fisk reached Quinn O'Hara and tapped the man on one shoulder. Quinn jumped and turned quickly, one hand dropping to his pistol. "What?"
"Mr. Bockman wants to talk to you."
"Perhaps, brother Buck, it might be wise to watch and listen?"
"No time, Josiah." Buck's shoulders pulled back and he began to push into the cluster of men blocking his path to the bar. Looking back over his shoulder, he added, "No telling what he might already have done to Chris if he ran into him."
Slater couldn't believe his luck, just as he reached the tall man, the fellow turned to answer someone at his table, his attention distracted. Quickly, before he could think about it, Lonnie yanked the man's gun free from his rig, his own poking into the man's hard stomach. Hoarsely, his nerves evident in his voice, he commanded, "Easy does it, Mister. We're going to walk over to the jail now."
"Hey! What?" An astonished Buck Wilmington looked back and down at the shorter marshal who was looking determined. "I ain't done nothing!"
Lonnie nodded. "Yep, and we're going to keep it that way." He gestured again, pushing his gun barrel harder against the man's flat belly. "Get going."
"You took my gun!" Shock warred with anger in Buck's face. His hands went to his hips and he simply stood there, dumfounded. Around him, men were drawing back, but so far the room in general was unaware of this small confrontation. Behind him, his friends moved in closer.
"Marshal? Buck hasn't done anything." JD spoke levelly, making sure his own star was easy to see, just a reminder to the other man of their status.
"Didn't like the way your friend here was acting. Can't afford for the peace to be disturbed. He's just going to go over to the jail with me to cool off some."
"What are you arresting him for?" Josiah towered over Slater who began to desperately wish his deputized citizens would show up.
"Not arresting him, not yet. Just taking him out of here."
"You can't do that. This is a free country!" Nathan spoke in a low, hard voice, shoving one shoulder in front of Buck protectively.
Suddenly, Buck decided that this wasn't the time or place for this. For now, the marshal was simply a nervous nelly, trying to keep a lid on his town. If he let Nathan and the others have their heads, likely things could get ugly. Damn, I hate ugly. With a gusty sigh, he placed a hand on Nate's shoulder. "Easy, pard. I'll go." He looked over at Josiah. "Need you boys to keep an eye on-" without finishing his sentence, Buck raised his chin toward the bar.
Sanchez gave a single dip of his head in agreement and tugged Jackson back by one arm. JD, watching the interactions alertly, stepped up now. "I'll come along, Marshal."
Lonnie eyed the kid sheriff. "Sure. Just don't expect any special favors."
"No, just justice."
JD's flat response raised color on Slater's cheeks but the man caught one of Wilmington's wrists and pulled him around to lead him out the door. Buck followed meekly enough, dropping his head to keep his face from showing too much. So far their little ruckus hadn't drawn much interest. He planned on keeping it that way.
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Hansey led Acorn and the others up to the crest, all five men had their guns out, ready for a swift raid. Hit hard and cull Tanner from the bunch. The group rode toward the top of the hill at a steady trot, preparing for an all out charge when they reached the top.
The air seemed to turn blue with their curses as they drew rein roughly and their horses sat back on haunches at the sudden change. Five irate bounty hunters sawed and pulled at reins as they yanked their animals up and around, all the while milling close and shouting at each other.
"Hansey!" John Acorn was furious. This wasn't supposed to happen. "Where the hell are they?"
Jim Hansey's cheeks reddened and he ducked his head, eyes still goggling at the site of the flattened meadow, churned up with wagon wheel ruts and the hooves of many beasts of burden. Raising his eyes to Acorn, he answered slowly, "Reckon they left."
"'Reckon they left.'?" John yelled back into the man's face before striking him with the trailing ends of his reins, the leather doing little damage to the worn duster but making Acorn feel better. "Well, hell, even I can see that."
"John, I guess they just picked up and headed out faster than I figured they could." Jim shrugged and added, "Least ways, we know they must have headed for Two Step, it's the only town down the trail from here."
Bald-headed Ed Morse gigged his horse between the two men. "I think there's a short cut over the hills just up ahead." He gestured off to the side of the broad trail. "We can meet them there, maybe even beat them to it."
Acorn squashed his hat down on his head and raised his shoulders high, lifting his reins in fists. "Show us."
Ed tipped a salute and drove his spurs into his tired mount who gave a cough but leaped gamely into a canter down the hill in front of them. Acorn, Hansey, Upton, and Kendal followed, shouting 'hi-yahs' as their mounts drove forward
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Ezra stood watching as the carnies skillfully began to set up their big top and sideshows. Each wagon was carefully positioned, some becoming miniature stages, others pulling up canvas to change into sideshow attractions or games, where much of the money was actually made. Some of the bits were old cons, the shell game, the fortuneteller. The dog-faced boy had been putting on his 'face' in the back of the costume wagon earlier, when Ezra entered to pick up his outfit for the tiger show.
Ezra leaned back against the nearest wagon, watching the town now. He raised his eyes above the clutter of small rooftops and false fronted stores and saw the five bounty hunters on horseback emerge from behind the hills beyond the main street. God, I hope Maryjane was successful, we have no time to hide Vin now. He turned away from the wagon and moved off down the short row of the sideshow, tugging at the overly fussy cuffs on his billowing white shirt.
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Chris felt the change before he saw Bockman's return. Harvey and Possom had shut up finally, the flies seemed to melt away, and there was a stillness in the heavy air. Lifting his head with difficulty, he watched through slitted eyes as Bockman and a stranger walked into view, Bockman's other two men, Caleb Chandler and Marty Fisk came along behind silently, though grinning.
Clarence Bockman was trying to hide his smile. His stepson was willing to hear him out. Rather than explain it all in the bar where anyone could hear, he'd gotten the boy to agree to come back here. Stopping in front of Larabee, he half turned to his stepson. No, 'son' now. He'd seen the nasty turn in the younger man and was convinced that the boy would go along with his plan. "Here he is!"
The stranger stopped in front of Larabee and cocked his head to the side. "And who might 'he' be?"
"The man who killed your brothers, my sons."
"My stepbrothers?"
"Don't argue." Clarence wiped at his face. "You kill him and you can ride beside me."
"Do you have a name?" The stranger addressed himself to Chris.
"Yeah." It came out in a dry whisper. "You?"
With a laugh, dark eyes bright with a hidden joke, the man answered, ignoring Bockman who was beginning to look angrier if that was possible, "Quinn O'Hara." He bowed low, then stood up and arched one eyebrow inquiringly, his Irish charm on full display.
"Chris Larabee."
The change was amazing. The charming rogue's façade dropped away, leaving a pale and shocked face that twisted into an ugly grimace of calculation. Chris stared in fascination.
"You? You're the great Chris Larabee?" O'Hara's voice had turned nasty, practically spitting out the words, before the man turned to Bockman. "And you? You want me to kill him?" At Bockman's nod, Quinn began to laugh, his guffaws only growing with the frown that deepened on his stepfather's face.
As quickly as the humor had arrived, it vanished and O'Hara stepped up to Chris, crowding him close, until their bellies touched, then he tipped his hips up and against Larabee. "Like it?" Quinn licked his lips and cocked his head to the side, slowly drawing his lips near to Larabee's. He could see the disgust flush the man's face. "Ezra likes it." He watched as the pale greeny hazel eyes narrowed and darkened.
Chris surged forward against his bonds, teeth bared. "You bastard, what the hell do you know?"
Quinn danced back, nearly giggling, his chuckle so flighty. He could not, simply could NOT believe his good luck. Ezra's Chris handed to him on a platter, his stepfather wanting Quinn to kill the man. The man even offered a so far non-existent ranch as the ultimate prize. Would he kill? Oh, yes. Quinn moved in again, smiling coolly as Larabee bared his teeth in rage. "I know that Ezra is mine. He and I-" he paused provocatively, then went on in a nearly sing-song fashion, "WE have been very close lately." He leaned in to hiss, "one blanket!" Spinning on his heels, he laughed to the sky, ignoring the frothing anger of the man behind him, though he could hear Larabee's howl of utter rage and the scuffling of his boots as he struggled against the ropes that held him to the fence.
Bockman stood back and watched silently. His earlier satisfaction collapsing at the sight of his stepson, never son, acting like some freak. Suddenly Larabee seemed a whole lot saner and worthy than the man he'd thought to make his heir. Seemed the two had some history together. Maybe that was it. After all, he'd had his own fit when he first faced the gunman, nearly killing him before he thought things through. Maybe Larabee had done something to Quinn too. Something awful.
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Nathan and Josiah stood at the back door of the saloon, looking up at the empty hillside behind the place. Bockman, his men, and a fourth man had all disappeared out the door only minutes before. But the crowd had defeated the lawmen when they tried to force their way through to follow. By the time they finally reached the doorway, their quarry had vanished.
"Guess we split up and try both ways." Nathan spoke with reluctance, not relishing heading out alone in this strange town.
"We need to stay together," Josiah countered. He stepped out into the debris of the backyard of the saloon. "Safer."
He led the way to the right for no reason that Nathan could determine, but Jackson followed him anyway. They emerged around the back corner of saloon and into a short, empty ally that returned them to the main street, where they spotted Buck and JD stepping out into the afternoon sunshine from the jail.
"Looks like help to me." Sanchez lengthened his stride, knowing Nathan would have no trouble keeping in step.
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Before he could get a look at Vin, Ezra was caught by Jack. "Ezra, the locals want an afternoon performance," Soho waved his arms toward the big tent, "and since they're paying customers-"
"Jack, I was just going to check on my cousin Ven." Ezra felt his resolve to keep on top of everything begin to dissolve. He looked up into the big man's friendly face and, God forgive him, he wanted to punch the man right in the nose. Somewhere out there was Chris and only Vin to help him find the man. He took in a ragged deep breath and forced himself back to a ramrod straight stance, prepared to stubbornly insist upon seeing Vin.
"Nonsense, my boy, Ven's fine, Maryjane has him well in hand. You'll see," Jack was turning them around by the simple expedient of wrapping a large arm around Ezra's stiff shoulders and walking in a half-circle around the frozen man, pivoting him in place. "We'll go take a look as soon as your act is over." He patted the shoulder he held tightly and encouraged, "Come on, now laddie, the show must go on and the audience is waiting!"
His resolve misted away in the face of the coaxing and assurances and he let Jack lead him back toward the tent and the tigers.
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"You ain't never livin' this down, Buck!" JD flashed a grin back over his shoulder, a very self-satisfied grin on his elfin face, bowler hat firmly snugged down to his ears. He ran two fingers along the rolled brim as he tipped his head to a bevy of young ladies who were crossing the street near them. His steps slowed as he realized that his friend's face hadn't lightened into that knowing smile, that his friend was ignoring, in fact, the young ladies' passage, and to be sure, ignoring him as well. Losing his own smile, JD stopped and turned to face Wilmington who was staring across the street with a look somewhere between dismay and anger. "Buck?"
Finally, the tall man who'd paused with one foot on the boardwalk and one on the street seemed to notice his young companion. Dark eyes, deep with what only could be anger, flashed to JD.
"They must have lost him!" Buck bit out his words. Frowning, he stalked across the street, ignoring the curse of a rider who had to pull up his mount suddenly to avoid riding over him.
JD had lost his humor now along with his smile, he'd seen the direction of Buck's gaze and realized what his friend meant when he saw Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez standing at the opening of an alley next to the saloon, just across the street from them. Oh, boy. He broke from his frozen position to hurry after Buck whose long legged stride had practically taken him all the way across the rutted thoroughfare already.
Silently, Buck cursed the local marshal for pulling him out of the saloon, only to force him to sit in the jail and share a cup of weak coffee. While Slater had probably stopped a brawl, Buck really didn't give a damn about that. Released as soon as some of Slater's 'deputies' showed up - and Buck gave his word that he wouldn't start any trouble, 'start' - as Ezra would have said - being the operative word, he and JD had practically dashed out of the jail. And now, here came Josiah and Nate and there was no sign of Bockman or his boys. Damn!
Josiah raised to hands in a calming gesture as he saw Buck bearing down on them with predatory intent. "We lost them, Buck."
"Went out the back door. By the time we could get through that crowd in there, they were gone," Nathan added with a slow shake of his head. He wasn't intimidated by Buck's thunderous look, but he was worried about their missing friends.
"Well, shit!" Buck's flat hand slapped hard at the shingled wall of the store to one side of the alley entrance. Before he could say or do more, JD, who'd spun around to stare up and down the street, piped up.
"I say we go check the carnival." He nodded toward where the local folks were all moving. "That's where everyone else is headed."
As the others broke their collective stares at each other, they all turned to see what Dunne meant. The formerly milling crowds were now moving in a steady, cheerful stream, heading to the east end of town, even the saloon patrons pouring out the doors of the drinking hole and joining the rest to follow.
"Think the boy's got something," Josiah said, giving Nate's and Buck's shoulders a firm push. "Let's go."
All four men swung out into the passing crowds and followed along.
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Ezra didn't need to perform with the horses this time. The regular lead rider was recovered from her illness and already in the simple ring that the roustabouts had created from rope and low pickets. Plank benches had been created for the front row of the audience to sit on, the rest standing rubbernecked behind the lucky few to get seats. As the crowd swelled impressively, so did the laughter and cheers for the pretty young woman with acrobatic skills bobbing atop a lovely Arabian mare. Ezra smiled indulgently at Fanny Mae, known to the audience as "Sheba of Arabia." The fluttering veil that barely covered her face, nose to chin, was more a prop than any disguise. Ezra stood beside the tigers' wheeled cage, waiting for his turn. Get this over and go seek out Vin, make sure he's as safe as Jack thinks. Ezra tapped his foot impatiently as several men yelled out their approval and roared for another trick from the petite rider.
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Jim Hansey's mount was a raw-boned old nag that had a very jolting trot. As he and the other bounty hunters saw the small town ahead, and the carnival wagons, tents, and crowd, they all urged their horses into the trot that had Hansey's teeth clattering until he grit them and slapped at his horse resentfully.
John Acorn surged ahead of his team, mouth drawn back into a snarl. How the hell were they supposed to find Tanner in this mess? He spared a hateful glare at Hansey and then pulled his horse over to one side of the carnival to come to a stop behind some extra wagons that looked like they were part of the baggage train of the show. He dropped to the ground and quickly tied his mount to the rim of a far-side wagon wheel. The other four men did the same and turned to look at him as their finished tying up their horses.
"We can't split up in this crowd," Acorn scowled at the surprising number of people milling through the tented area, "so we stay together and move fast. Everyone keep your eyes open, Tanner's likely to be trying to hide in this somewhere."
"Should we search these wagons first?" Morse was scratching his chin dubiously as he stared at all the strangers moving through the carnival sideshow just past this small clutch of wagons.
Acorn paused, then nodded grudgingly, it was a good idea.
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Side-stepping, the four men from Four Corners eased into the back row of the audience in the biggest tent. Buck, Josiah and Nathan could all see the young woman doing a handstand on her horse as the animal trotted with a smooth gait around a small temporary ring. A fiddle was scratching out a merry little tune in the background. JD Dunne, whose shorter height left him making little hops to try to see over the crowd, finally gave up and headed around the edge of the audience, hoping to find a better spot.
"Hey," Buck tapped Sanchez's bulky shoulder and then nodded at JD's disappearing back. "We better stick with the kid."
Josiah nodded agreement and tugged Jackson after him, breaking the man from his mesmerized stare at the woman in the scanty costume who was now standing atop her moving horse, balancing on only one foot. The crowd cheered again, a scattering of applause rising above the other sounds in the noisy space.
Ezra stepped forward to the front of the tiger cage as Fanny Mae and her Arabian finished their bows and quickly moved out of the ring passed him. Jack was already in the center of the ring, announcing him while a roustabout named José did Jack's usual job rolling up the canvas over the tigers' cage.
Ezra knew when the tigers could be seen by the sudden silence from the crowd. He had no trouble keeping his amusement from showing, today he was too distracted by his worries to really care what the paying customers thought or did. He walked swiftly to the cage and opened the swing door, calling his cats out into the ring.
JD had finally rounded the ring, nearly to a wagon that was pulled up close on the far side. He turned to look into the center of the performance space and choked. It didn't help that Buck chose that moment to whack him between the shoulder blades and yelp, "Hot damn!"
Josiah bumped right into Nathan, who'd stopped dead in his tracks. Nathan's eyes were wide, his face slack with shock as he slowly turned to meet his good friend Josiah's confused eyes. "Is that-?" He raised an arm and pointed out into the ring, just as the animal trainer gave a double arms up signal to two giant tigers that cooperatively jumped up onto twin half-barrel platforms.
"It is!" Josiah's grinning answer and hand clapping down on Jackson's shoulder was plenty of answer. His grin just kept on growing as he took in the sight of Ezra Standish, standing out there in tightly fitted, sleek black trousers, buttoned down to small shoes, and wearing a simple sash of white, holding in a loose white, ruffled shirt that hid little. Hard to believe that this was the same man normally covered in so many layers of wool and linen that it was impossible to see the smooth body now on blatant display. Josiah began to laugh, part in amusement, part in relief.
All four men stared in various stages of surprise and pleasure at one of their missing friends, standing in front of a large crowd of strangers, patting two enormous striped cats. Tigers!
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"I'm only going to do this if I can get Ezra here to watch!"
Quinn's stubborn insistence was enough to make Clarence Bockman's earlier satisfaction on finding his stepson waver. He was reluctantly following Quinn back toward the carnival that had now arrived and was already set up and open for business. This man 'Ezra' that Quinn wanted made Bockman itch. Apparently his stepson was still playing pansy. Displeased, he began to wonder if he shouldn't just go back to the livery and shoot that son of a bitch, Larabee, and be done with it. Just then, Quinn reached the back of the biggest tent in the chaos of the carnival.
"Wait here."
Before Bockman could latch on to him, O'Hara had slipped inside the tent and disappeared from view. Clarence spat and shifted to sit on an abandoned crate beside the tent flap, cocking his head as he heard what sounded like a mountain lion's roar. Only deeper and louder.
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Coming into the big tent from the rear, where a scantily dressed lady on horseback had just emerged, John Acorn and his bounty hunting team stared at the big crowd. If Tanner was in that mob, they'd never find him. Then Hansy pointed out the man in the ring. It was the fellow who claimed to be Tanner's cousin. Just at that moment, the man turned and saw them.
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Ezra had just settled Sindhaj and Clarice onto their perches at center ring when he raised his eyes and met the eyes of one of the bounty hunters near the cage. Blinking them out of focus and keeping his face blank as only he could do, he threw his whole attention to the cats. He coaxed them into raging snarls with sotto voce prompts and simple hand movements so subtle that the audience never suspected that these ladies were simply 'singing' for him. With bared teeth, each tiger had a fearsome visage. Meanwhile, Ezra's slow-to-burn anger began to flame.
First Clarice, then Sindhaj abruptly bounded off their short mounting barrels and back down into the ring, each narrowly missing Ezra who twirled as if they'd each struck him a body blow in passing. This dance was so precise that he barely felt their fur flash by, but the crowd screamed approval, then gasped as the animals seemed ready to vault into their midst. At the last moment, each turned away and began a pacing run around the now trodden circle, their large striped bodies terrifyingly close to the crowd.
Ezra's mind was whirling as fast as he spun himself, arms wide to urge his beasties on. Vin was hidden but was it enough? He ground his teeth in his forced smile as he suppressed his fury at these hunters of men. Still shocky and dizzy from the latest bout of unconsciousness thanks to Quinn's strike, Vin was in no shape to defend himself. And now the bounty hunters were back, apparently ready to kidnap Vin Tanner regardless of opposition from the carnies.
Ezra ran to the side, bouncing off a pre-arranged plank that rested midway along on a small keg. His supplemented jump tossed him up into the air just as Sindhaj, the bigger of the two females, dropped to her belly beneath him. His descent took him onto her back and she sprang up and away with Ezra astride her, knotting his fists in her thick fur neck. Cheers erupted from the throng but Ezra ignored the wave a sound and was quickly assessing the crowd, trying to devise an escape with time to warn Vin and protect him, when he was startled to spot four of his friends staring back at him from the other side of the ring, opposite the hunters. Lady Luck has not abandoned me completely! He lifted and turned, flipping off the dashing tiger in an unpracticed side-ways move that left him tumbling to the feet of Buck Wilmington.
Climbing up Buck as if he needed help to stand, he held on for a few brief seconds, face to face with his tall friend. Then he was hopping back and facing the tigers again. The two animals had paced into the center of the ring, confused at the change from their carefully rehearsed routine. He quickly got them in hand whilst seeing his friends slip out the back of the tent from the corner of his eye. With a wry smile and his heart racing, he decided to prolong his performance and hope to keep the bounty hunters waiting for him at ringside just a little longer.
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"Did you see that?" Jim Hansey asked the others. Right after the 'cousin' fell into the crowd, the men closest to that spot had vanished.
Only Acorn nodded, brow furrowing in suspicion. "Looks like he gave them some sort of signal." He stared a moment longer at the tigers and the 'cousin' and then turned away, kicking out a flap of the tent behind them. "Come on, let's go!"
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Ezra was frantic. The bounty hunters had disappeared at some point. It had been impossible to keep them in sight and still perform his act. Now he quickly hustled the tigers back up into their cage, swiftly tossing them each a treat. Loud purrs as the cats settled onto haunches and bellies was the response even as José dropped the canvas roll that was the curtain for the tigers' wagon. Ezra edged out behind José, ignoring Soho Jack who was introducing a knife-throwing act at the center of the ring.
Coming out into the after light of day, he blinked and started forward, intent on finding Vin and the others. With Buck and the boys to keep Vin safe and Nathan to help his recovery, surely Ezra and they could find and rescue Chris from whatever trouble had already found him. Just the thought of his lover had a flush rising to Ezra's skin, nerves tingling. Oh Chris! He felt nearly sick whenever he thought of all the trouble his lack of patience and his anger had caused. If only I'd asked instead of jumping to conclusions. Lost in the muddle of his thoughts, gazing ahead as he forged through the thin outdoor crowd, he moved toward the midway only to have a strong hand lock on his arm and jerk him around to a halt.
In disbelief, Ezra stared up into Quinn O'Hara's smirking face. "Quinn? What-?"
Yanking Ezra forward into his body, O'Hara grinned down into the southerner's beautifully flushed face. For me. "Ezra." For a moment, it was enough to share a breath and to lose himself in those gorgeous green eyes. Then Ezra was struggling to free himself, fighting Quinn. "Stop it!" He jerked Ezra again, shaking the man's frame.
Ezra pursed his lips in contained anger, capping the earlier anger at the bounty hunters with new anger at this presumptuous fool. "Let me go, Quinn." He stood his ground and tried to pull himself free of the tightening hold.
"I have him, Ezra." Quinn's voice had dropped to a hissing whisper directly into Ezra's nearest ear. "I have your Chris."
"Chris?" Ezra froze then taunted, "Chris who?" He jutted his chin out and glared at Quinn. "What the hell are you nattering about, Quinn?"
"Chris Larabee." O'Hara smiled slowly, watching as Ezra stiffened and then sagged slightly. "Yes, I have the mighty Chris Larabee." Quinn raised the hand not gripping Standish's arm, softly touching Ezra's cheek. He leaned in closer still. "For you."
Ezra's head was awhirl. How did Quinn get to Chris? Why? He thoughts fled to his worry about Vin Tanner but he reassured himself that Buck, Josiah, Nathan and JD could protect Tanner. That left him to get to Chris, through Quinn it seemed. He stared unblinking up at the Irishman as he quickly re-evaluated the situation. Then, with planned artifice, he pressed himself against the other. "For me?" he breathed out with a small smile.
Suspiciously, Quinn shoved Ezra away as suddenly as he'd grabbed him moments before. "No, you don't, Ezra! No tricks!" Flicking his eyes to the side, he nodded.
Ezra followed Quinn's glance and saw an older man rise from a crate against the back wall of the big tent. "Who's this?"
Quinn looked back at Ezra and his smirk grew into a wide, arrogant smile. "My stepfather, Clarence Bockman. He's helping me arrange our little reunion with Chris." Quinn stepped back. "So, Ezra, will you come with me?"
"To see Chris?" Ezra had to ask, he couldn't help himself. He shivered in the sunlight as a cold shadow seemed to cover his soul, these two men before him seemed so dark. How had he ever thought Quinn attractive?
"Yes, of course." Quinn toyed with the Colt strapped to his thigh, pulling the handle part way from the holster, then dropping it back in. He turned away, clearly confident that Ezra would follow. The older man led the way, with Quinn following, and then Ezra trailing behind. In his heart, he promised his lover - if you are not alright, Chris, then these men shall die.
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"JD, will you stop that!" Buck slapped Dunne's hands from their double-fisted grip on his leather jacket lapels, then shrugged his shoulders back in that loose, nearly dance-like way of his. Twisting away from the demanding youth, he jerked with his jaw to the other two men, "Well, don't jest stand there, come on!"
"Buck, darn it!" JD wasn't put off that easily, half-running to catch up to the long strides of his taller friend. "What did Ezra say?"
By now, all four men were well away from the big tent and heading toward the sideshow row that they'd skipped on the way into the carnival show. Nathan and Josiah exchanged looks, but waited to hear Buck's answer.
Over his shoulder, Buck spoke back to all three of his companions, never slowing his pace, "Ez said Vin's in the sideshow and needs help." He added succinctly, "Bounty hunters."
The others speeded up, JD actually passing Buck, asking, "Where in the sideshow?"
Buck's frown was answer enough, but he said, "He didn't have time to say."
"So we just look for Vin?" Nathan finally spoke up, sounding doubtful.
"Likely he's not going to be easy to spot," Josiah commented, nodding to some townsmen as he carefully pushed past the thickening crowd.
"How about those bounty hunters? Do we know who they are?" JD was walking backwards now, facing the others, hands on his gun grips.
Buck fished the boy sheriff to the side to prevent a collision with more gawkers at the ticket master's perch. "No, we don't." His eyes slewed around the folk in motion all about them, then returned to JD. Patting the Dunne's shoulders he finished, "So keep sharp."
By this time, Josiah was at the ticket hawker's elbow. "Friends of Ezra and Vin," he said in quiet careful tones.
"Ezra and Ven?" The tall, skinny man in a bright colored suit nodded knowingly and wave them through the simple archway made of scrim and two poles stuck in small barrels.
The four lawmen paced down the sideshow, passing the dog-faced boy with raised eyebrows, then the rubber man, where Buck was momentarily distracted. "Hell, nobody can do that!"
Josiah shoved the ex-Ranger in the shoulder, "Looks like he can, now let's keep going."
Buck flashed a grin and swiveled his head back, still staring as they continued past the bearded lady and the man of a thousand tattoos. Everyone came to a halt at the fire-eater and sword swallower. They were out of options and hadn't seen Vin anywhere.
Nathan grimaced at the sight of a long saber that seemed to disappear down the performer's throat. "It's fake," JD confided, adding, "I've seen that done back east, it's all in the angles of view." He was already scratching his head and pivoting around on one heel. "No sign of Vin, what do we do now?"
Josiah was looking back over his shoulder and on down the sideshow row. "Perhaps we moved too quickly." He stroked his chin pensively as his friends stared back too.
"Hell, Josiah, ain't no one else to see." Buck stood with hands on his hips, frowning.
"Might be Vin's hiding backstage at one of these little shows," Nathan said tipping his head to the side.
JD shook his head, "Nope, all they got is a piece of canvas stretched tight behind each of them." He gestured to where he'd trotted off a moment ago before returning to his friends. "I just looked, ain't nothing there."
Confounded, the four men stood uncertainly, blocking the passage of folks finished with the sideshow and heading to some other attractions. JD turned to follow their movements, "You think he might be in the fortune teller's tent or something?"
"Naw, Ez said IN the sideshow." Buck spoke with certainty.
"Then, Brothers, we must reverse course." Josiah firmly but politely began to wend his way back up the sideshow gallery, eyeing the exhibitors carefully. Buck, JD, and Nathan trailed behind, none noticing the men walking towards then with focused intent.
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Ezra hugged himself to keep his performance shirt closed in the front. Designed for display of skin, it had no buttons. Right now he was too disgusted with Quinn, too angry, to want to give him anything, even a 'look'. He felt his daggers strapped to his wrists, a precaution he'd taken once Vin had joined the carnival. There was no place to wear a pistol, even his derringer wouldn't work with the billowing, thin fabric of this shirt, so he'd devised the simple knife harnesses with the help of the carnival knife thrower. They were all he had at the moment. They would have to do.
He watched alertly as the man that Quinn claimed to be his stepfather trudged back out through the carnival grounds and headed into town on foot. The man's shoulders were rounded now and his head down. Ezra could tell there was no affection between the stepfather and stepson. He didn't care enough to wonder about it, but kept the thought for possible use later. Quinn kept flashing manic grins at Ezra over his shoulder, finally slowing to walk beside him.
Ezra tensed but kept his eyes on Bockman.
"Ezra, after this, we'll need to leave the territory for a while." Quinn spoke quite calmly, conversationally, as if his declarations were common trivialities.
Standish had to fight to keep his shoulders from rising and his face from dropping into a sneer. "I have nothing to say to you, Quinn." He managed to get that out, though the tone was biting and bitter.
Then Bockman was rounding the end of the livery, circling past the front corral and heading around the back. Ezra quickened his pace, swallowing hard. And then ... there was Chris.
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Ezra took in the scene, the lackeys lounging by some hay bales, Chris strung out along a corral fence, arms extended with wrists tied down to the top rail, a rope under his arms and across his chest, securing his body to a center post, head down. A dirty bandage covered one shoulder over the top of a torn and bloodied gray shirt. Guns and hat were gone. Still, he was there and alive. It was more than enough. "CHRIS!"
Ezra's call had Larabee raising his head, blond hair hanging disheveled down over his forehead, brushing his eyes. The vivid discoloration at his throat, traveling up and down the exposed neck and under the side of the jaw shocked Ezra. He sought out Chris' clear eyes and found love, waiting there.
Chris heard his name called, heard Ezra's voice and dreaded that he imagined it but forced himself to look up anyway. And there was Ezra, walking towards him. The world grayed out and all Chris saw was his missing lover coming faster now, right at him. He looked into Ezra's wide green eyes. Love and fear glinted in those beloved eyes. He wanted to answer, to say it would be alright, but he couldn't.
Then Ezra was standing in front of him, gently touching his jaw, smiling just a little, the touch so tender that Chris leaned into it and relaxed, eyes closing.
"Real sweet," one of the men that had been sitting on the hay bale scoffed, before seeing the look from Bockman directed at him and shutting up. Both men hopped to their feet and stood ready, fingering their still holstered guns.
Clarence looked on in disgust at Larabee and his 'friend' and then looked over at his own stepson and his hopes shriveled up to dust. Quinn was half-crouching with two guns drawn, an ugly look on his face, jealousy clear in the dark eyes. This was not a son to build a ranching empire with, no.
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Lonnie had hustled his men over to the end of town, following the flow of townsmen and folk from the country, all moving toward the carnival set up. He was keeping a close eye on those Four Corners men, even though he'd actually taken a shine to Buck and JD over coffee. Still, they were on the prod, looking for missing men and likely to do some hurt to someone. His job was to see it wasn't to any of his people.
He shoved Henry hard when the store clerk lagged, straggling along slowly. "Come on, we got to be there - now!"
The others were moving fast if warily. Lonnie took in the sight of a knot of about five men, dressing in shabby trail clothing but heavily armed and walking with purpose, closing in behind the out-of-town lawmen. Damn, this didn't look good for anyone. Lonnie broke into a half-trot, his men following.
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Josiah led the way back along the sideshow, having to fight against the stream of gawking folk that lined the row. He eyed each exhibitor carefully but was nearly to the other end with Nathan beside him on the outside, and Buck and JD tramping along behind him when he was brushed hard, nearly dropped to the dirt. As he heard the gasps of the others and the sound of - 'cah-chink' - spurs hitting the ground, he spun around and found himself with an armful of silks and satins, a swirl of brownish hair and then he was looking down into great big blue eyes.
"Vin?"
Tanner swallowed against the dizziness that nearly overwhelmed him, but still managed to husk out, "Watch yore back, Josiah!"
To a chorus of disbelieving, "Vin!" "Vin!" "Vin!" from Nate, JD, and Buck, Josiah held on to what could only be Vin Tanner with one arm while craning his neck around to see back further down the sideshow. A group of lethal looking men were moving purposefully toward them, guns being drawn as he watched. Damn.
Josiah pulled Vin close and dropped to the ground, his friends spinning and dropping as well, quickly taking in the danger. Sanchez landed on top of Tanner's silk bustled form, pulling his big pistol and turning to face the danger heading their way. He heard Vin's grunt of pain but ignored it for the moment.
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Lonnie scowled ahead. The second group, the seedy trail hands he'd spotted, were making a steady trek toward the sideshow alley and he could see they weren't looking at the side show freaks. There beyond them he could make out the tall forms of Buck, his Negro friend, and the other tall lawman. Figure young JD is with them, Lonnie thought as he pressed forward faster, his deputies swirling around behind him and closing in fast as well.
Then, to make matters more confusing, the bearded lady stepped out to the edge of her little stage and dropped down practically on top of the Four Corners lawmen. Now what the hell is that all about? Lonnie broke into a trot.
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" 'Siah, git yoreself off a me!" Vin's squashed voice grunted from below the big man. Sanchez ignored his friend, pointing his big handgun directly at the bounty hunters bearing down on them.
Buck had risen back to one knee and had his arm extended, his six-gun held steady at the grim faced men heading their way. He thumbed the cocking mechanism back and watched the men begin to slow in front of him. Nathan had pulled himself up to his feet against the sideshow stage and was holding one arm up, hand behind his back. Buck knew the man was holding the hilt of a big throwing knife, just waiting to see where to deliver it. To Buck's left, JD had rolled over sideways and was coming up with both Colts drawn, eyes steady on the men approaching. They could all hear muffled cursing coming from under Josiah.
And whoosh! A curtain of sateened calico shooshed in front of them. A very largely-endowed, matronly lady stood towering over the lawmen, ample arms akimbo, plump fists planted on generous hips. "You boys just stay right there!" she commanded before flouncing around to face the quintet of men slowing in front of her.
Buck raised both eyebrows and looked over at Nate who shrugged back at him. JD came fully upright, nearly squeaking as he tried to act officially, "Ma'am, you need to step aside before you get hurt."
"JD! Hesh!" Buck whispered, reaching out a long arm to jerk Dunne done by his jacket, effectively overturning the lad on his buttocks.
"Hey!" JD flashed an outraged look at Wilmington, but by then Buck and Nate were both standing and re-holstering their weapons, turning to offer hands to Josiah.
Josiah looked up at his friends and smiled weakly, shifting uncomfortably on top of his charge. He shoved his pistol into his belt, not even bothering with his holster, anxious to get up and off of Vin. He spared a look past the petticoats and skirts of the substantial woman blocking the bounty hunters. She seemed to have them well in hand. His smile became a wide toothy grin and he accepted Buck's and Nathan's hands, allowing himself to be hoisted in a quick tug to his feet. Letting go of the helping hands, he turned around and looked down.
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John Acorn slowed. His men half-stumbled to halting stops behind him as out of nowhere, a large woman charged into their path and turned to confront them. He put his gun away, seeing his men do the same. He was still ready to walk right over this woman to get to his bounty, if the man was there. Trouble was, he still hadn't caught sight of Tanner, only those four men that the carnie had spoken to back in the big tent. And, he only had a suspicion that they would lead him to his prey.
Maryjane was breathing hard. One of the roustabouts had run to get her when he saw all the armed men heading to the sideshow, that never was a good thing. She had rushed over from her spot in the fortune telling tent and saw the confrontation forming, then Ezra's cousin jumping down into the middle of it. She quickly decided the closer four men were friends when she saw the way they were reacting protectively to Ven. Like a mother hen for her chicks, she threw herself between them and the other group who were drawing their weapons and nearly running up the sideshow path. Now that she was between them, she stood tall and waited.
The men came to a stop facing her at a distance of less than ten feet and she was prepared to deck the nearest one when she saw the town marshal and his deputies come half-running up the path behind these men. Smiling widely she folded her arms over her bosom and stared silently.
"You fellows want something?" Lonnie stopped just behind the now bedraggled looking crew.
As one, the men turned to face this newest threat. Acorn pursed his lips in frustration. Damn. He'd spotted the local law back in the saloon but hadn't reported to him, figuring to wait until he had the bounty to claim. Now he might not be believed.
Buck decided it might be a good time to intervene. "Ah, Marshal? My friend Nate here can explain everything." With a wide swing of one long arm, he encircled Jackson's shoulders and practically shoved the healer towards the crowd now gathering, with a smiling nod to the lady who'd stopped the fledgling gunfight. "JD, you best help Nate." Buck gave a simple nod of his head toward the local marshal. JD quickly hopped forward, grabbing Nathan's arm to urge him along, together, their bodies hid Josiah and his now standing - and swaying - companion.
Buck turned away from the groups of men and swept his hat off to bow gracefully to the female form. "Ma'am, after you." He gestured further on down the sideshow as Josiah offered his arm and their charge hooked a hand through it and clung tightly as they started away from the rest of the men. Behind them, the locals and the bounty hunters were silently staring at each other, and JD and Nathan were wading in.
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Ezra didn't waste any time. He brought both arms down together between their bodies as he pressed close to Chris. "Trust me."
Chris rubbed his cheek against Ezra's forehead as Ezra dipped his face downward. Huskily, Chris answered, "Always."
Then Chris looked up, over Ezra's shoulder and tightened his jaw. Bockman was standing mere yards away, staring not at them but at O'Hara. Oh, Jesus. Chris swallowed. "Ezra?" But before he could say more, he felt a body tug and realized that somehow Ezra had a knife and had just cut him free of the center post. And then Ezra was turning, one shoulder shifting and sliding against Chris, both arms moving at incredible speed and a jerk pulled at the rope on Chris' right wrist, pulling it taut then free. He felt a knife hilt being tucked into his hand, his fingers being coaxed to curl around it. Through pins and needles of returning feeling, he clumsily dropped his arm even as Ezra twisted around to face O'Hara, one arm now raised.
Chris flung his right hand, complete with dagger, across his body to attack the rope at his left wrist. He sawed frantically, clumsily at the rope.
Bockman stood tall and shifted the aim of his gun, mouth drawing down into a bleak frown.
Quinn screamed, "NOOOOO!" and began to fire his guns.