When Worlds Collide

It had been fairly quiet in Four Corners for the last few weeks. No cattle barons to deal with, no half crazed murderous men seeking revenge. It had been, well, boring.

"Good lord, I need a vacation!" Ezra groaned as he and Nathan walked outside the saloon.

"Amen, brother," Nathan responded. Four Corners was getting too quiet. He knew all too well, though, that this was only the calm before the storm. Something was going to happen. And he didn't like it.

"Well, I think that I shall take my leave of you, my friend," Ezra drawled. He was tired. Days with nothing to do really got to him. He was itching for something to do. Even cheating the residents out of money was getting old. He shuddered at that thought. "God forbid," he muttered.

"Huh?" Nathan asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I was just contemplating the future of this little rustic corner of America."

Nathan looked at him. "Uh huh," he said slowly. "Sure. I'm going to the church to help Josiah." He edged away from Ezra and walked quickly in the direction of the small Baptist church at the edge of town.

Ezra smirked. "I think I've frightened him," he said softly to himself and laughed. "I've really gotta be more careful about thinking out loud," he said.

+ + + + + + +

The dusty red stagecoach rolled wearily into the town. The horses, matched bays, were lathered and their tongues lolled out of their mouths. They made no resistance when the driver pulled them to a stop in front of the hotel.

An older man, about fifty, stepped from the coach. He was obviously from back east, for he was wearing an expensive gray suit and matching hat and was smoking a polished tobacco pipe. He stepped lightly from the vehicle with straight posture, one used to being seen as distinguished. He had silver hair and a mustache that was curled slightly at both ends. He radiated importance.

"Excuse me," he asked Mary Travis, who was coming out of her store.

"Yes?" she said absently. She still had the papers to get out.

"I'm sorry," he said, not unkindly, "do forgive me. I'm looking for a Mr. Ezra Standish. Could you, perhaps, tell me where I could find him?"

Mary looked at the man with interest. She looked around and quickly pointed. "Well, sir, I do believe that's him sitting on that bench outside the saloon."

The man turned and looked quickly. He saw Ezra slouched down on the bench, hat low over his eyes. "Thank you, ma'am," he smiled and started to walk toward him.

"Wait!" she called.

He turned back. "Yes?" he asked curiously.

She looked slightly flustered. "I don't even know your name."

He smiled a little. "Peter Donahue," he said. Then he tipped his hat to her, turned, and walked away without another word.

Mary shook her head. "Must be related," she muttered and turned her attention back to the paper.

+ + + + + + +

Peter walked quickly up to Ezra. He stood in front of him for a few minutes before he realized that he was asleep. Peter rolled his eyes. "Ezra!" he hissed.

Ezra mumbled a little, but didn't wake.

"Ezra!" He said again. Still, no response. He sighed, shook his head, and proceeded to kick the bench.

"Wha-?" Ezra yelped as his rest was disrupted.

"Hello, Ezra," Peter grinned.

Ezra stared at the man for a moment, then broke out into a broad grin. "Peter!" he cried jubilantly. "Wherever did you come from?"

"Savannah," he responded. "We still have the old plantation house, you know. I never would sell it to the carpetbaggers," he spat.

Ezra stayed silent. This issue had brought up too many debates on the North after the war. He was not eager to get involved in another one. Peter was vehement when it came to cursing the Yanks.

"Well, that's all well and good, but it's getting on to noon, and I'm famished. Why don't we got to the restaurant and I'll buy you a steak?" Ezra said quickly, hoping to avoid the inevitable subject.

Peter looked up in surprise. He was just about to start on another tirade but then Ezra had spoken up. "Why, of course," he said, fumbling a little for the words. "That would be wonderful. Thank you."

Ezra was relieved. "Good. It's this way."

They walked off together and met Josiah and Nathan coming up from the church. "Nathan, Josiah!" Ezra called. "I want you to meet someone!"

They walked up. Josiah smiled at the man as they were introduced but Ezra couldn't help but notice Nathan's expression. It was one of total shock. He was about to ask what was wrong when he turned to look at Peter. He was livid.

"Why you son of a--!" he started.

Nathan stepped back. Peter lunged at him, but Ezra caught him by the lapels. "Peter!" he yelled, barely able to restrain his friend.

"What?" he screeched, still intent on getting to Nathan.

"Calm down!" he cried, forcing his friend back.

Nathan looked at the scene playing out in shock. He knew this man. He had been the cause of years of torment, from the moment he was born until he had escaped to the Union army.

"Who is that?" Josiah asked, as Ezra was restraining Peter.

"Former slave owner," Nathan said. "My owner."

Josiah's mouth dropped open in shock and he stared at Nathan, who looked miserable. "What?" he asked, incredulous.

Nathan nodded mutely. "I ran away and now he wants to kill me."

"But why now, why after all this time?" Josiah wondered.

Nathan turned his dark brown eyes on the pale blue ones of Josiah. "Because I shot his son escaping."

+ + + + + + +

Ezra grabbed Peter's right arm and twisted it around his back. Peter cried out and sank to his left knee in the dirt. "Peter, stop it!" Ezra yelled.

Peter calmed down for a moment and Ezra loosened his grip on him. It was all Peter needed. "Never!" He jerked his arm back and turned to Ezra, cocking his fist and swinging. It caught Ezra under the chin. His head snapped back and he dropped like a sack of potatoes into the street. Peter stood in shock, blinked, and turned his glare back to Nathan. "This isn't over!" he snarled and turned away.

Josiah moved immediately to help Ezra. Nathan followed a moment later when Peter turned the corner to go to the hotel. They knelt down and realized he was unconscious. "Come on, Nathan," Josiah grunted, struggling to lift Ezra up. "Let's get him out of the street."

Nathan nodded and together, they succeeded in carrying him to the newspaper. He was too heavy to drag up to Nathan's place so they laid him down inside the foyer of Mary's store. She came out of the back and gasped.

"What happened?" she cried indignantly. "Is he drunk?" She hated drunk, passed out people. There was no way she was letting him stay there if that was the case.

"Mary, we need to get him propped up. Do you have a pillow?" Josiah said, ignoring her protests.

Mary stood in shock for a moment, but turned on her heel and brought in a pillow from her son's room. "Here," she said, thrusting the pillow at Josiah. What happened?"

"You know Peter Donahue?" She nodded. "Apparently he's Nathan's former owner. He tried to attack Nathan and Ezra held him back. He got a fist in the jaw for it."

Ezra moaned, coming to his senses. He opened his eyes and saw the others staring down at him. He started to say something but thought better of it when his jaw caught fire as he opened it.

"Don't try to talk, Ezra," Nathan said. "He may have broken your jaw. Hold on and let me see." Nathan gently probed the swollen, bruised area under his jaw and finally concluded, "It's just bruised. It'll hurt for awhile, so take it easy. Don't eat any big steaks for a few days, though."

Ezra nodded, rubbing his chin. He winced when he found a particularly sore spot and managed without too much trouble to say, "Where'd he go?"

Everyone knew who he was talking about. "Hotel," Josiah said. "You going after him?"

Ezra nodded. "Be careful then," Josiah said. Nathan nodded. Mary even gave him a soft smile. Ezra stood up, making sure he didn't wince. He walked out, still cradling his jaw in his right hand.

Mary turned to Josiah. "Why did Peter attack Nathan? The war's over."

Nathan looked at her. "I shot his son escaping."

"But slaves didn't have guns. Where'd you get it?"

Josiah turned a questioning gaze on Nathan. "Yes, Nathan, where'd it come from?"

Nathan pursed his lips. "I stole into the plantation house and took it. I knew they'd come looking for me. It was insurance that I'd get out. I didn't figure on Thomas getting into it." He sighed. "He jumped me in the dark. The gun went off. It woke the whole house. I didn't have time to explain anything. I ran. They didn't catch me. I kept going till I hit Western Virginia. The rogue counties there took me in and shipped me to Pennsylvania. I joined the army there. You know the rest," he said to Josiah.

Josiah was quiet for a moment. "I see," he said. "So what are we going to do about Mr. Donahue?" No one had an answer.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra staggered around to the hotel. He walked up to the clerk. Gathering his strength, he said in the most normal tone he could muster, "What room is Peter Donahue in?"

The clerk gave him a strange look, but walked to the register. "Peter Donahue—room 206."

"Thanks," he said, and walked up the stairs, leaving an astonished clerk behind him. "I wonder how bad I look," he muttered. He walked around the corner and found the room. He knocked. Peter opened the door almost immediately.

"God, Ezra, I'm sorry!" he gasped.

"Just how bad do I look?" he cried. He quickly found a mirror and winced at his reflection. The right side of his face was one big bruise and the lower portion of his cheek was swollen. He shook his head. "Peter, what made you do that?"

Peter looked abashed for a moment and straightened. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

"I didn't ask if you meant it, I asked why you did it?"

"The darkie shot my son!" Peter cried and paced the room. Ezra sat down. "He came into my house, took a gun, and shot my son. It's a wonder he lived at all!"

"You should be glad he's alive, Peter," he said softly, speech coming more easily now.

"Just whose side are you on, anyway?" Peter yelled, eyes blazing.

"I'm not taking sides, Peter," he said.

"Oh, so now you're an abolitionist!" Peter snarled at him.

"I--," Ezra started.

"Get out," Peter growled.

"But--."

"I said get out!" Peter roared. Ezra didn't need another warning. He quickly bolted, shutting the door behind him and running quickly down the steps. The clerk gave him another look as he flew out of the hotel. He ran until he reached the saloon.

"I would like to see Ms. Anne Porter." He spoke calmly.

The bartender smiled knowingly and Ezra glared at him. The man snapped his fingers at a young woman flirting with some of the cowboys in the bar. She came over. "Ezra!" she called happily.

"Can we go someplace and talk?" he asked her.

She looked at the bartender. "Earl, make sure we're not bothered." He grinned and she glared at him. "Don't jump to conclusions, Earl." He sobered and she turned back to Ezra. "Let's go upstairs." He nodded and she led him up the carpeted steps to her room. "What's wrong?"

"I've got a problem," he began.

"I can see that. Looked in a mirror lately?"

He glanced at her, annoyed, but couldn't bring himself to rebuke her. She was about 25, with light brown hair and blue eyes. She had been working as a barmaid for about a year and he had met her when he had gotten drunk a few months before at a poker game. She'd taken him back to his room, made sure he had some water, and came up to check on him the next day when he'd sobered up. They had remained fast friends ever since. "Yes, actually, I have," he snapped.

She recoiled slightly and he saw it. "I'm sorry, Anne, I didn't mean to snap."

"It's okay," she whispered.

"No, it's not," he insisted. He took her hand and led her to a chair. She sat. "Hear me out. I've just been knocked in the jaw by my friend and he's trying to kill my other friend. I'm really upset. I shouldn't have done that, though," he said.

She smiled. "It's okay, Ezra. I understand. Now, what's your problem?"

He smiled back and sat down in the chair. She sat on the bed and looked at him. "My friend Peter Donahue is in town. I just found out today that he's Nathan's former owner. When Nathan escaped, he shot Peter's son. Peter's got a vendetta and I know he's not going to stop until one of them is dead." He stopped and looked at her. "What am I going to do? One of my friends is trying to kill the other one. No matter how this turns out, I'm caught in the middle, and I'm going to lose a friend either way."

Anne looked at him. "I can't tell you what to do, Ezra." Ezra sighed and looked away. "I'm sorry."

"Couldn't you just give me some advice?" he questioned.

"Ezra!" she laughed, "What did I just say?" She calmed down quickly and looked at him seriously. "My father told me once that one can only give true advice if one has experienced the ordeal." She took his hand in hers. "Ezra, I've never been through this before. I don't know what you should do."

His eyes softened when he saw how sincere she was. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I'll figure something out. Thank you, though."

Anne gave him a crooked grin. "You're welcome." She leaned over and kissed him. "Now get out of here before I ruin your reputation."

He laughed and put his hat on. He walked out and threw her a last look before closing the door. She waved and he turned. He walked to the bartender and said, "Earl, give her this when she's done working tonight." He shoved a silver dollar into his hand. Earl nodded gravely and Ezra walked out.

Upstairs, Anne, watched him walk out. She closed her eyes and shut the blinds.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan and Josiah were working on the church, putting a fresh coat of whitewash on the outside when Ezra walked up. "Mind if I help?" he asked.

Josiah nodded gratefully. "Sure," he said, tossing him a brush. Ezra shrugged out of his coat and hat and began painting. "Well?" Josiah asked.

Ezra evaded the question. "Well, what?"

"You know what I mean," Josiah said. Nathan glanced at him, also curious.

Ezra sighed. "He told me to get out," he said simply.

"Why?" Nathan asked.

"He thought I was taking your side."

Nathan stayed quiet. "So you believe him?" he asked.

Ezra exploded. "I don't believe anybody!" he yelled. "He thinks you shot his son in cold blood, and I don't know what happened to make you steal a gun! But now he's mad at me, my best friend in the world, and I'm doubting him because you're a more honest man than he will ever be! What do you think that's doing to my friendship?!"

Josiah put down his brush at the outburst. "Calm down, Ezra," he said.

"I will not, dammit! Staying calm only got me a punch in the jaw! What am I supposed to do, Josiah? Let Peter kill Nathan or let Nathan kill Peter? There's only one outcome in this situation and you know it!"

Nathan stayed quiet. He sighed, put down his own brush and looked at Ezra. "I'm glad that you believe me." He waited a moment for Ezra to turn his attention to him. "But I did shoot his son. He jumped me in the dark when I was running away. I did steal the gun. But I ran because he beat my family and friends and gave us nothing. You understand? We had nothing. I had nothing to lose by running so I did it."

Ezra stared at Nathan. He wasn't one for such huge speeches. Finally he said, "I do believe you. But he's been my friend for fifteen years, Nathan. You can't just brush aside that kind of loyalty."

Nathan nodded in understanding. "I know. But we've got to do something. I don't want to die."

"We'll think of something," Ezra sighed and went back to painting the church. Josiah and Nathan shared a look and did the same.

Peter looked on from a distance. "Your time is coming, Nathan," he snarled to himself.

+ + + + + + +

Chris, Buck, JD, Vin, Nathan, Josiah, and Ezra met in the saloon later that evening to discuss what had happened. "You think he's going to try to kill Nathan?" Chris asked Ezra.

Ezra nodded. "If he doesn't succeed with Nathan, he may come after me. He thinks I've taken Nathan side."

"Have you?" Chris prompted.

"I haven't taken sides, Chris. They're both my friends. I want this to end without either of them getting killed."

Chris seemed satisfied with the answer. "Any ideas?" he asked. "Vin?"

Vin thought a moment. "We could send Nathan away for awhile and get Peter on a wild goose chase of sorts. Then we could come up with something more concrete when he's gone," he suggested.

But Ezra shook his head. "No, he knows Nathan's the doctor. He knows he wouldn't leave willingly. Trust me. It won't work." They lapsed into silence.

"Well, there's not much we can do tonight. I suggest we all sleep on it and figure out something in the morning," Buck sighed and stood. "JD, you wanna come and play some poker?"

JD jumped at the chance. "Sure!" he said happily. He had idolized Buck since they first met. They pushed back their chairs and walked to a table. Chris and Vin followed to make their rounds on the street to make sure no one was out drunk and causing trouble. That left Ezra, Nathan, and Josiah.

"Ezra?" Josiah began, but Ezra stood up. "I'm afraid I've got some matters of a personal nature to attend to," he said, the cool mask of professionalism slipping into place. Nathan and Josiah watched him leave and turned to each other. "Maybe we should stay here for awhile, just to be sure," Josiah said. Nathan nodded. They sat back to wait.

+ + + + + + +

Contrary to what Josiah and Nathan believed, Ezra was not heading to the hotel to whale some sense into Peter. He instead headed for the church. He hadn't been to prayer in a long time and he felt out of place in the small chapel.

He walked to a pew near the front and knelt down. He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words. He bowed his head and tried anyway. "Lord," he started, and began again. "Lord, what am I supposed to do? I'm caught in between two friends. It's killing me not knowing what to do. One wants to kill the other and I know one is going to die before this whole mess clears up." He paused and began to cry. "I don't want to lose any more friends to this subject!" he cried, lifting his face up to the carved wooden cross at the front. "What am I supposed to do?" he whispered. There was no answer so he curled up on the pew and fell quickly into a dreamless sleep.

Anne found him there the next morning when she came in to pray. "Ezra," she said softly, shaking him gently. He stirred, but did not wake. She smiled sympathetically and shook him again. He woke.

"Anne," he said surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." She pulled out the dollar. "Thank you, Ezra," she said.

He quirked a grin. "Did Earl tell you I gave it to you?"

"No, Earl's too dumb to remember who you are. But I knew it was you."

Ezra didn't answer. Instead he sat up and sighed. "What are you doing here, really?" he asked.

"I always come here in the morning to pray. It makes me able to keep working in the same place, day after day. I don't feel so bad when I'm in here."

"Anne, what would you do if you could go anywhere you wanted to, if you had the money, I mean?" he asked her.

"Oh, I don't know, I suppose I'd go to Boston. I'd want to go to college, get married, do something better than what I'm doing now." She looked at him. "Why do you ask?"

"I promise, Anne, I'll get you to Boston before too long. Do you believe me?" He asked.

She grinned. "Of course I believe you!" She shouted happily. "I'm holding you to it, Ezra. Don't disappoint me."

"I couldn't ever lie to you, Anne," he said. "Come on, let's get something to eat." He took her arm and they walked out into the early morning.

+ + + + + + +

Peter stalked Nathan all day. He saw where he went. He knew that he woke up at the crack of dawn and went to his ‘office' until twelve noon. Then he left and had lunch at the restaurant for one hour. After that, he helped Josiah rebuild the church until sundown. Then he went to the saloon for a drink with his friends.

"I'll have to catch him just as he wakes up," he mumbled to himself, walking back to the hotel. "Tomorrow, Nathan Jackson, you die." He laughed.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan woke up at sunrise the next day. He put on his clothes and walked out into the early morning. He knew only a few people would be up at this time. He turned the corner coming out of his room and stopped short. Peter Donahue stood, pointing a well-oiled Colt .45 at his chest.

"Good morning, Nathan," he called cheerfully. "Care to step my way?"

Nathan took a step toward him and dived back toward his room. He barely avoided the bullet that exploded from the gun. It only took a moment for him to grab his own gun and point it at Peter. He fired. Peter dove to the side. The town woke up.

"What's going on?" he heard one woman call out in fear.

Chris poked his head outside the hotel and almost caught a bullet in the teeth for it. "Damn!" he cursed and saw Vin hurrying is way. "Vin, he's trying it!" Vin sank down beside him and pulled out his own gun. They each returned fire.

Peter called, "Come out and face me like a man!" He stepped into the street. Nathan knew he had no choice. It was an honorable challenge. He had to obey it.

"Nathan, don't do it!" Vin yelled. But Nathan knew he had no choice. *It's got to end,* he thought.

He walked into the street. Peter had holstered his gun and stood, fingers closer to the butt of it. He was itching to draw. Nathan lowered his own hand. They stood for an eternity before Nathan heard the sound of a gun being pulled from leather. *It's over* he thought.

"Drop it," Ezra said, standing behind Peter.

Peter turned to look at him. "Ezra, what are you doing?" he cried.

"Something I should have done a long time ago. I can't let you kill him, Peter," he said.

Peter's hand moved toward his own gun. "I said, drop it." Ezra raised his gun a little higher.

Peter glared. "Don't make me do it, Peter," Ezra said, cocking the gun.

Peter laughed. "You wouldn't shoot me," he said arrogantly.

"I don't think you want to find that out, Peter," Ezra snapped.

Their eyes locked. In that instant, Ezra knew what Peter was going to do. Peter drew for his gun. They fired at the same time. They dropped at the same time.

There was utter silence in the street. Then pandemonium erupted. "Ezra!" Anne screamed, running out from the saloon and dropping to her knees beside him.

"I'm all right," he said, sitting up. He noticed the blood trickling from his shoulder. "Well, maybe not," he winced, standing.

Chris and Vin ran over to Peter while Josiah and Nathan walked up to them. "Did I kill him?" Ezra called.

Vin raised his head. "Yeah, he's dead."

"I didn't want it to come to this," Ezra whispered.

Anne hugged him. "I know. But it's done. You saved Nathan's life. Come on. Let's get that bullet out of your arm." They walked off. Nathan still stood, looking down at Peter's body. Ezra turned to him. "Nathan, I need someone to take the bullet out and you're the only one I trust to do it."

Nathan jerked his head up. "Really?"

Ezra smiled a little, leaning on Anne. "Yes. Now come on. I don't fancy bleeding to death in the street."

Nathan grinned and ran up. "Thanks," he said.

Ezra nodded. "Anytime, friend."

Nathan laughed and together, the three of them walked inside.

The End