"I shall need an answer by early
morning. I am leaving on the first stage for San Francisco tomorrow." The
tall, dapper, English gentleman rose to his feet and nodded his head briefly
in a farewell gesture.
"You can be certain I shall give it due
consideration and tender you my reply well before the morning stage is
due," promised Ezra Standish, green eyes gleaming, as he looked up at his
departing companion.
The Englishman smiled confidently in response. "I am
very happy to hear that. I look forward to a long and profitable partnership
if you decide to accept my offer." He spoke as if there was little doubt
that Ezra would do so.
And indeed, thought the gambler, as he
watched the elegant figure exit through the saloon's batwing doors, only a
fool would turn down a proposition of this nature.
John Whitmore had
arrived in town a little over a week ago. He and Ezra had chatted several
times during the course of his stay, usually over a friendly game of poker.
It wasn't often that the gambler was able to converse with someone who
appreciated the finer things in life, and he thoroughly enjoyed the
opportunity. In fact, he had felt so grateful to the Englishman, that he had
kept the man's losses to a minimum.
But tonight their conversation had
taken an unexpected turn. John Whitmore had mentioned having business in San
Francisco and when Ezra had expressed his desire to one day visit that fair
city, the Englishman had offered to make it possible. He'd explained that he
was on his way to inspect a saloon he had just inherited from a recently
deceased Uncle. And that furthermore, he was in dire need of a manager for
the place since he would shortly be returning to England. Would Ezra be
interested in the job? John would make him a partner in the business and
Ezra would have the option of buying him out at a later date. And as long as
they were making a profit, he would be happy to let Ezra have complete
control of matters.
Ezra wasn't certain why he didn't immediately take
the man up on his offer. He told himself it was because he needed time to
examine the proposition. Look for any hidden angles. But the truth was, he'd
felt a curious reluctance to leave this one horse town that he had somehow
come to consider home.
You are only here because no better
opportunity has presented itself. Ezra tried to remind himself sternly of
that fact. You are a fool if you think a chance like this will come round
again. Opportunity only knocked once, as Maude was so fond of reminding
him.
Ownership of a saloon had been a dream of his for a long time now.
Since he had given up on his early dreams of a home and family. And love. A
profitable business might not enable him to buy happiness, but it would at
least enable him to buy everything else he wanted. He would be content
with that. He had an appreciation for the finer things that his friends
lacked. A need to surround himself with possessions. As if they would
anchor him. And living here in this town he wasn't likely to ever
improve his standards of living. Or fulfill that need.
The last time
he had tried to do that, Maude and his so called friends had doomed him to
failure. It still rankled a bit that the other men had so easily betrayed
him. He expected no less from Maude. But to see JD, Nathan and Josiah join
forces with her had been an unexpected, and unwelcome, shock. They had
apologized afterwards, of course. But the damage had already been done. He
had no money and no saloon. He should be ecstatic at the thought of shaking
the dust of this town from his boots. With friends like those, who needed
enemies?
Face it. He was an outsider even among the other men. Why else
was he sitting here alone while they were all off having dinner at Miss
Nettie's? Their leader didn't entirely trust him. The healer thought the
local alley cat had a better set of morals than Ezra did. JD idolized Chris
and Vin. And even Buck, although he would never admit it. But not him. Not
Ezra.
He could continue indefinitely in this vein. But there was really
no reason for him to do so. He was going to simply accept the Englishman's
offer and get on with the business of living. He had never meant to stay so
long in this town, as it was. And he had always wanted to see San Francisco.
There. He'd made up his mind. He would go find Mr. Whitmore at once and tell
him that he accepted the offer.
He took a sip from his glass and
wondered why he couldn't seem to make his feet move. Why he had such a
stubborn, unreasonable attachment to this uncouth town and its inhabitants.
Why he cared what the other men thought of him. It wasn't like Chris Larabee
would actually shoot him for leaving. Although he might wish to. More
likely, however, he would simply shrug his shoulders and forget about Ezra
almost as soon as he was gone. They all would.
But the gambler knew
he would not forget about them. Much as he might wish to. No. Fortunate
fellow that he was, he would spend the rest of his days attempting to live
according to the standards of six men who had long since forgotten his name,
if not his very existence.
Enough wallowing in sentiment. He needed to
remain focused here. He could not allow a former slave, a wet behind the
ears young sheriff or a semi-literate ex bounty hunter to dictate his
actions. Even if they were not aware they were doing so. He certainly would
not figure into any of their future plans. In fact, he was not really even
needed here. The other men's talents were more than sufficient to protect
this town. The tracker had evinced a surprising talent for deception and
subtlety upon occasion. He was more than capable of taking over the
gambler's role if the need arose. Ezra shouldn't feel the slightest bit
guilty. He was not abandoning the town. Nor his friends. Neither one
needed him. He would endow a hospital here or something when he attained all
the wealth waiting for him in San Francisco. That should take care of any
lingering guilt feelings. As well as insuring that he was not forgotten.
There. Now he could go find Mr. Whitmore.
"Ez! Hey Ez! Where you at?"
Buck Wilmington came charging into the saloon. He spotted the gambler in the
corner and headed over towards him. "We need ya. Casey just talked JD into
some fool contest and he wants you to be the judge."
"Well, come
on. Everyone's waitin' on ya." Buck tugged impatiently at Ezra's arm when
the gambler didn't respond.
"Impeccable timing, as usual, Mr.
Wilmington." Ezra sighed. Once again his friends had managed to ruin his
plans without even trying. Even worse was the fact that only a small part of
him regretted it.
"What did you say?" Buck looked down at the gambler in
confusion. Ezra had spoken so softly that he had been unable to make out
more than a few words.
"I said, let us go and take advantage of this
opportunity, by all means. It is certain to prove extremely entertaining for
the observers, if not the participants." The gambler rose to his feet and
gave one last fleeting thought to the splendors of San Francisco. Perhaps
another time, he thought, following his friend out the door. For right now,
he already had a job.
The End
