One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was it. There was no more. His
savings had all been squandered on a foolish pipedream. Owning his own
saloon. Hah! His mother had put paid to that notion. And just when he was
starting to recoup his losses, along had come the man they called Lucky Jim.
The same man that was even now walking away from the poker table carrying all
of Ezra's money with him. All but the $1.87 that lay across his palm,
looking so meager and forlorn in his hand. Three times he had counted it.
Each time the number remained the same. $1.87 to buy six presents. And
tomorrow was Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but put his head down on the table and howl
in frustration. The saloon was nearly empty at this hour, so Ezra did it.
Which supports the idea that life is made up of a preponderance of tears,
with only the occasional smile tossed in for effect.
While our gambler is gradually progressing from frustration to something less
akin to tears, let us take a look at his surroundings. An ordinary saloon.
Dim, slightly dingy, nothing fancy to be found in this particular abode. Nor
is there anything of luxury to be found in the room upstairs, which our
gambler rents for the princely sum of $2.50 per week. There is not much to
be said about either without descending into pathos.
We will, however, peek into the closet of the plain little room upstairs
before we go. Inside are a variety of coats and shirts made of fine
material. Clearly purchased during a former period of prosperity. Now that
our gambler is earning his pay by, mostly, honest means, the clothing hangs
in the closet as if slightly abashed. As if it knows it should be unassuming
cotton, with no fancy lace or trim adorning it.
But the wearing of the aforementioned clothing brings smiles and amused
shakes of the head from his friends. And envying looks from certain members
of the town. Which is all very good.
Ezra finished expressing his frustration with the current state of affairs
and went upstairs, where he attended to the ravages with a wet cloth and a
quick swipe of the brush over hair. He then stood looking out the window. A
yellow dog nosed half heartedly around in the street. Hoping for a kind word
or a crust of bread. Ezra could afford neither. Not with the $1.87 he
possessed. He had spent many an hour these past several weeks planning to
buy nice presents for everyone. Something which would show them how much
they all meant. Since he would never find the words. Nor could he bring
himself to say them, even if he did. But a fine gift. That would have made
a statement.
There was a looking glass mounted on the wall of his room. It was not a very
good one. Actually seeing your whole reflection in it required a dexterous
arrangement of limbs. But Ezra was nothing if not dexterous. Agile even.
Struck by a sudden thought, Ezra whirled from the window to face the glass.
He stared at his reflection. Green eyes shining brilliantly in a face which
had lost all color. Gently, he ran a hand down the rich material of the
pretty red coat he wore.
If there was one thing Ezra Standish took a mighty pride in, it was his
appearance. Looking like a gentleman was very important to our gambler. The
fine clothing he wore was an integral part of this. He would have held
himself proudly in any company, knowing he was all that was gentlemanly in
appearance. Each of the other men had a similiar thing which was held close
to their hearts and treasured. The tracker, for example, had a beautiful
watch which had belonged to his grandfather. It was the last thing his
mother had given him before she died. Indeed, it had been the only thing she
had to give. The tracker had no chain for the watch, however. None that
were worthy in his eyes, anyway. For truly, the watch was a thing of beauty.
The young sheriff had the silly hat he wore with such determination. The
hat which helped him feel closer to his dream of being a hero. Of making a
difference.
Ezra quickly gathered up all the fine clothing from its place in the closet
and put it in a pile on the bed. He then removed the elegant coat he wore,
replacing it with a plain brown humble thing taken from a drawer in the lone
bureau. He faltered slightly as he set the red jacket on top of the pile,
but then he firmed his lips in resolve and he left the room with the bundle
of
clothing, a brilliant light shining in his eyes.
He went down the stairs, to the street and stopped before the town hotel.
With only a momentary hesitation, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
A quick glance at the register garnered him the necessary information. And
then he was knocking on the door of room number 11. The face of Lucky Jim
peered out in response.
"I noticed, my good Sir, that you are a fellow connoisseur of fine
haberdashery. I have here some of the finest items you'll find, west of the
Mississippi. Would you be interested in purchasing a few?" Ezra held his
breath, face heating with embarrassment. But he stood his ground and met the
other man's eye.
"Come in. Let me take a look." Lucky Jim swung the door open a little wider
in invitation.
Ezra exited the hotel minutes later with money in his pocket and all of his
fine clothing left behind. But he had never been happier. And shopping had
never been such a delight. The new stethescope for Mr. Jackson. The French cologne for ladies man, Buck. And the finest watch chain he could find for the tracker. Then there were the gifts for the others. Each one chosen
carefully. Nothing cheap and meaningless. Each one must make a personal
statement about both giver and recipient. The hours flew by and soon it was time
to go back to his room and wrap the gifts. For tonight there was to be a
small gathering. Just the seven men and a few other select guests.
Upon reaching his rooms, a slight pall was cast over his cheerful spirits.
For he now had nothing festive to wear for the occasion. But he would make
do with what he had. He removed the plain jacket he wore and began brushing
it in an attempt to spruce it up. A sprig of holly on the lapel, a shirt
which was not terribly shabby unless one looked closely, and he was ready to
go.
He had expected to be the last one there. But Vin had still not arrived.
The tracker was never late. Ezra was just beginning to grow impatient, when
he heard footsteps outside. As good as the food and company were, Ezra
wanted to see the looks of surprise and joy on his friends' faces as they
opened their gifts. The others also wanted that. And so Vin walked in the
room to a chorus of greetings and good natured ribbing about his late
arrival.
"Well, seein' as how I brought ya'll presents, I figgered you wouldn't mind
too much if I was a bit late." Smiling, eyes twinkling, the tracker gestured
at the pack he'd set down near the door. His smile disappeared for a brief
second as his glance hit on the gambler and his sober attire. But his
expression lightened almost immediately as Buck and JD whooped in glee and
began demanding that it be time to exchange gifts already.
Soon all presents had been opened, with many ooohs and aahs of delight. Even
from the normally taciturn gunslinger. All presents except the watch chain
and whatever gift Vin had gotten the gambler in return. Everyone was quiet,
replete with good cheer and fellowship, and Miss Nettie's home cooking. They
watched as Vin slowly unwrapped and then held up the watch chain. The look
on his face was not the one Ezra had expected. It was a mysterious look,
full of some unnameable emotion. No one said a word, held to silence by the
peculiar air of import which suddenly overhung this small act of gift giving.
"Ya got a watch... chain." Vin choked out the words, as if he needed
reassurance that it was indeed that item which he held in his hand.
"Yes. I thought that such a fine heirloom deserved to be properly
displayed." Ezra was still puzzled, and a bit hurt, by his friend's reaction.
"You got me a watch chain?" Vin repeated, looking almost dazed.
"Where's your watch, Vin? Let's see what it looks like with the chain. It
sure is a pretty one, Ezra." JD was the first to regain the previous mood of
festivity, which had been somewhat muted by the tracker's strange reaction.
"Can't, JD." Vin shook his head slowly, looking rather bemused.
"Why not?" JD demanded.
"Cause I sold the watch so I could buy ya'll presents." The mumbled words
and red color staining cheek spoke volumes.
"Awww hell, Vin. How are any of us supposed to top that?" Buck groaned in
mock dismay, lightening the mood. Which was his particular gift to the
world, if only he'd known it.
Unable to say a word past the sudden lump in his throat, the gambler busied
himself opening the small, inexpertly wrapped present before him. Out
tumbled several gold buttons. They would have looked fabulous on the red
coat which even now was adorning the lanky frame of one Lucky Jim. Ezra felt
laughter bubbling up. It clamored for escape until he could no longer
contain himself. His friends stared as they listened to the rich sound of
laughter coming from the gambler. First Vin. Now Ezra.
"My dear Mr. Tanner, I do believe these buttons are much too fine to wear
just yet. I shall have to find the perfect item of apparel on which to place
them. A task which may take some time." Ezra's eyes were still glowing with
laughter as he looked at the slightly bewildered faces of his friends.
"Well, I think they'd look mighty pretty on that red jacket of yours, Ezra."
Josiah picked up one of the buttons and inspected it thoughtfully as he spoke.
"Or what about that green one?" Nathan suggested through a mouthful of pecan
pie.
"No. No. Something much finer is required to properly showcase these
beauties." Ezra gathered up the buttons, not quite meeting their eyes.
"How come you ain't wearing one of those pretty jackets, Ezra? Last time I
saw you wear that thing you got on was when we were helping Miss Nettie muck
out some stalls." Chris Larabee's eyes were narrowed as he pinned the
gambler with a gaze that was entirely too knowing for comfort.
"I... I... found myself in financial straits recently and was forced to
conduct a few small business transactions in order to acquire the necessary
funds to purchase a few small gifts." If Ezra had hoped to confuse his
audience enough to throw them off the scent, his hopes were sadly dashed by
the tracker's quiet words.
"Transactions like sellin' all them purty duds of yours to buy us presents?"
Vin held up his watch chain with a lopsided smile.
"Well, I suppose you could say it was something like that, yes." Ezra was
unwilling to admit fully to his actions. But it was enough to satisfy his
friends.
"What do you say we have a piece of Miss Nettie's pie before Nathan
eats it all?" Vin clapped the gambler on the shoulder with a friendly hand
and the two of them got to their feet and wandered over to the table still
laden with edible treats. And there they stayed for the rest of the evening,
surrounded by friends and warmth and laughter.
There might be gifts which have been given more wisely. And gifts which have
been given more grandly. This little story I have related to you contains
none of the drama and edification of those types. But let it be said that
nowhere were gifts ever given so sincerely or with such grace. For these men
were magnificent in friendship. A lesson in what it truly means to be Magi.
The End
