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PROLOGUE: CHARLESTON 1952

Pale green eyes tracked the bones’ movement as they skittered across the stone, hit the baseboard and rolled to a stop within the rough circle of men and women. The rattle of the dice as they hit the pavement was as distinctive to the young boy’s ears as his mother’s voice, and, to be honest, much more pleasing. A pregnant silence hung over the gathered group as they all leaned forward to see the result.

The boy’s lips twitched into a smirk as the pips displayed a three on one and four on the other.

Laughter and groans echoed in the alley.

“Pay up, friends.” The boy grinned, sitting back with a smug look on his face. “Looks like the Lady herself is smiling on me this evening.” The glint in his eyes had no place in those of an eight year old child.

“How could such an angelic face betray such wickedness?” a woman’s voice muttered from the side. One of the line cooks was taking a break, leaning on her current paramour—one of the busboys.

“Lucifer was the most beautiful of angels, don’t forget,” one of the men answered, sullenly handing over a couple of paper bills to the boy kneeling on the ground.

“Even Lucifer didn’t have this one’s luck,” a second man muttered, standing and brushing some dirt from his black pants leg. Straightening his butler’s jacket, he nodded at the boy in farewell and headed back inside to his duties.

“If they weren’t me own dice,” a cook said, shaking his head, “I’d swear they was weighted or sommit.” His Irish lilt brought a smile to Ezra’s face—it reminded him of his father. “Come on, young ‘un, roll ‘em again. I’s not leavin’ here without some o’ that cash back in me pockets, hear?”

“I’ll do my best,” the child said, picking up the dice in his small right hand. His left hand joined the right in order to shake the dice together, confident that no one saw the extra pair of dice he had pulled from his pocket and hidden within the palm of that left hand. As he pretended to shake the dice, listening to the voices placing their bets around him, adept fingers tucked the weighted pair he’d been throwing for most of the night back into his left coat sleeve just as the right hand threw what were, in fact, the cook’s dice. His left hand then invisibly replaced the weighted dice into his pocket as everyone watched to see where the dice would fall.

“Snake eyes!” The cook laughed, eyeing the lad as he shook his head in mock consternation. “Well, seems yer luck’s turned finally! New thrower!” He grabbed the dice and looked up at the crowd. One of the busboys stepped forward and took the dice from him.

Ezra shrugged and backed away from the inner circle, carefully pocketing his money. He’d won far more over the course of his “turn” than he had lost in that single last round, and was more than content to let it go at that. The servants patted his shoulders and let him pass, already intent on the next round.

Somewhere in the background, a clock tower tolled eleven bells. It was soon joined by another, and then another. The city of Charleston was going to settle down for the night soon. Most of the bars and hotels shut at this time.

Eleven o’clock and all’s well. The boy walked to the end of the alley behind the hotel restaurant and leaned against the corner, comforted by the voices still challenging each other behind him and only vaguely interested in what was happening beyond.

It was a shock, then, to see his mother running full out down the street towards him.

He stood up straight and melted backwards as she neared him, her eyes streaming make-up and her peach colored dress stained in several places with something dark. She saw him out of the corner of her eye—she had known where he was gaming. His understanding of her whereabouts, however, had obviously not been so clear. He’d thought she was in the salon next to his alleyway, but she was obviously coming from somewhere farther away. But she still had come this way because….

“The Golden Hart!” she shouted as she flew past the mouth of the alley. It was enough. He pressed himself tightly against the wall, deep into the shadows and knelt down.

Whistles blew behind her. Three constables and several well dressed men were close on her heels. She had probably risked a great deal detouring to find his alley, to shout those three words. He was aware that a bunch of the servants had joined him, unknowingly shielding him as they stepped over and in front of him to look down the street. They were speaking quickly, trying to figure out who the woman was and what she might have done. Soon more joined them, even the cook, all wandering into the street to look down where the woman and her pursuers had gone.

“What did she yell?” the serving wench asked, looking at her lover. “Something about a gold heart?” The lover merely shrugged in response.

“The kid heard, I bet,” one of the busboys suggested. “Hey, kid, what…?” His voice trailed off as he looked at the empty shadow where the boy had been kneeling. The others turned as well, and the cook frowned.

“Well, how do you like that?” he muttered.
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The boy was completely exhausted by the time he arrived at the small Irish pub in a dark corner of Manhattan’s dirty Greenwich village three days later. He'd used most of his winnings to pack up their things from the hotel in Charleston and secure his and their travel north, all while doing his best not to raise any (or at least very much) suspicion about why an eight year old boy would be doing so alone. He barely glanced up at the sign over the door that showed a picture of a gold colored deer with a crown of ivy around its head—the Golden Hart.

She was waiting for him when he arrived, just as he knew she’d be. She even clapped gaily upon seeing him, though refused to hug him once she smelled him (they’d been a long three days). Without even a by your leave, he was sent out to take a bath. It didn’t matter that it was winter and the nearest bathhouse was attached to a brothel. Still, even after he returned, she did not bother to explain what had happened or why they’d had to run, but simply started chirping on about their next city. Further north, this time, she’d said, Saratoga Springs perhaps or Boston, or what about one of the new western cities? Saint Louis was meant to be exciting. Or how about Chicago? Perhaps even farther? Only her eyes betrayed that something had gone terribly wrong in Charleston. They’d run to the Golden Hart before—owned by some cousin or other—but never before had the situation felt so…

Wrong.

Sometime later, he knew it had to do with the fact that Maude’s third ex-husband had been murdered that night.

They never returned to Charleston.
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CHAPTER ONE: FOUR CORNERS 1876

Mary Travis walked into the saloon, her sharp, pale eyes seeking out Ezra’s face. It was not a long search. He was standing at the bar, obviously talking to Mr. Wilmington about something she would probably blush to overhear, based upon Buck’s uproarious laughter. The devilish look on Ezra’s face made that conclusion even more likely, his words barely above a whisper as he continued to talk into the taller man's ear. Tears were rolling down Buck’s face.

Gathering her dignity, she stuck her chin in the air and walked forward. Ezra spotted her out of the corner of his eye and immediately stopped talking, turning slightly away from her to take a sip from his whiskey. Buck noticed a second later, and rapidly tried to dry his face, blushing a bit. He grinned roguishly at the journalist.

“Mr. Standish.” Mary held out her hand, in which a letter rested. “My apologies for interrupting, but there is a gentleman outside who wishes to speak with you. He indicated that he did not want to enter this, as he put it, ‘den of depravity’, so asked me to do so. He also gave me his card.” She sniffed, indicating what she thought of the man and his request. Ezra continued to smile, until he saw the name on the card. His face instantly fell.

“Oh…Lord,” he breathed.

“Something wrong, pard?” Buck looked over his shoulder at the name, frowning at the squirrelly writing. Ezra quickly squished the card in his hand before the other man could make out the name, and walked over to the window. Mary glanced at Buck before they both followed him, noting the almost morbid air Ezra was now radiating.

Across the street, standing in front of the telegraph office, was a tall man with dark auburn hair and pale skin. He looked to be about forty years of age to Mary, perhaps a little older, and his posture radiated wealth. He was dressed well in a dark suit, clean despite the locale, and leaned on a cane with a silver tip. Aware of being observed, he straightened and nodded at the faces looking at him from the saloon window.

“Who is he?” Mary asked, curious now.

Ezra didn’t answer her, just shook his head. “Excuse me,” he whispered walking away and out of the saloon’s doors.

Buck’s eyes narrowed, and, despite being perfectly aware that he wasn’t wanted, trotted out the door after his friend. Mary waited a moment longer before deciding that, since she had to go past them on the way back to her office anyway, she may as well follow.
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“Ezra,” the man said, betraying a very slight cultured southern accent. “As usual, you have been a difficult man to find.”

"Alaric." Ezra stepped up onto the boardwalk, keeping his features as cold as he could—at least until he heard two other pairs of boots step up behind him. His expression soured slightly, while Alaric smiled over his shoulder and nodded at Ezra's unwanted entourage.

“Thank you, Madam. Your help was most appreciated.” Alaric gave a small bow.

“Who are you?” Mary asked bluntly, her tone peevish. Ezra sighed, giving them a tired look over his shoulder. Buck was leaning against the wall of the telegraph office, smiling beatifically at the newcomer, while Mary had her journalist face on.

"My name is Alaric Van Dietrich," Alaric replied. "And—"

"And he is otherwise not newsworthy," Ezra interrupted, staring hard at Mary. "Now, please, he did come a long way to see me….” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows.

Mary glanced at him, back at the stranger, then frowned.

“Of course. Pardon my intrusion. Call if you need anything, Ezra.” She walked past them to her office, pausing only to look at them again from her doorway, then disappeared inside.

Buck, however, didn’t move.

Ezra glared at him, but the other man just continued to smile. “Buck…?”

“Not leaving you alone with him, Ezra. Don’t look right to me, and, unless you can tell me he ain’t gonna try and hurt you somehow, I ain’t moving.”

“He’s perfectly harmless,” Ezra assured him, before looking back at the stranger. “My apologies, Alaric.”

“Harmless, my ass.”

“Buck!”

“Please, Ezra, do not worry about your friend. I don’t mind him there. Unless, of course, you don’t want him to overhear our conversation?” The taunt was clear. Ezra frowned at Alaric, who merely smiled.

"No," Ezra said finally. "It's fine."

“Well then, as I was saying, it has been rather difficult to find you, but then, it has never been easy, has it? All those different names over the years....” Alaric glanced at Buck, and Buck just continued to smile. Ezra remained impassive, so Alaric started speaking again. “Standish is a good name for you, though. Suits you. Almost more than Spencer, though I rather liked that one. Held onto that one for a long time, didn’t you? And then Smith, O’Shea, O’Sullivan….”

“…Solomon, O’Neil and Simpson,” Buck chimed in. "And aren't there some 'M' names, Ez? Like Murray or something?"

Ezra sighed. Alaric studied Buck with more curiosity now, before returning his gaze to Ezra.

“And most of the time it has worked, hasn’t it?” the newcomer continued, sounding a little less confident. “But, well, you must be more careful about making sure your face doesn’t get into the paper.” Pulling something out of his pocket, he handed over what appeared to be a newspaper clipping. Ezra took it, the name of the Santa Fe Herald proclaiming its origin, and frowned at the hand drawn image above the story. It was easily his image, sitting in a witness box, while a prosecutor stood before him and the image of Judge Travis watched him from the bench to his right. Three more men stood in the defense box to their left, all giving Ezra dirty looks. He read the caption below—it was when he has presented evidence in the trial of some bank robbers the seven had captured about six months ago.

“Imagine my surprise to learn that you were merely the witness and not the defendant,” Alaric said, taking the paper back. “There is even an error in the article. It describes you as a peacekeeping official of this town.” Alaric looked again at the dust covered street and houses, clearly not impressed.

“The description is correct,” Ezra said.

Alaric’s eyebrow shot up, making his long nose appear even longer. “Really? How did you pull that off? Don’t they know what you are?” His nostrils flared wide, and Buck couldn’t help but wonder if he could stick a peanut up one of them.

“They know what I am, yes,” Ezra said.

“Everything?”

“Enough,” Buck said. “We know what matters.”

“Ah,” the stranger nodded. “I see.” He sighed, folded the paper back up and inserted it back into his pocket. “Well, regardless, you know why I am here, Ezra. As much as I would love to belittle you all day, I’m afraid I’m somewhat tired from the journey and, frankly, I do not want to stay in that hovel called a hotel any longer than necessary. So, please, why don’t you just tell me where she is and we’ll call it a day?”

Ezra shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Oh, please. You know as well as I that you are her greatest weakness. She would never be far away from you, and I expect she has already visited you here a number of times—though I doubt she could have been fond of this backwater town.” He smiled at his small joke, while Ezra continued to watch him stonily. “And even if she is not in the immediate vicinity, I know you have a good idea of where she is.”

“For all I know, Alaric, she is on a steamer to South Africa right now, or signing up to join a gold expedition to Alaska, or perhaps she is sitting in your ancestral home in North Carolina, sipping your former wife’s best vintage.”

Alaric’s eyes flashed. “Touché, but you know perfectly well that, now that I have found you, I’ve found her.” His expression became ice cold. “One last chance, Ezra: where is she?”

“Floating twenty feet above your head, attached to my hand by an invisible string,” Ezra replied, offering him his most irritating smile. Alaric growled and took a step towards him, then backed up as he found the muzzle of a large black gun pointed at his left eye. Surprise crossed Ezra’s face briefly as well, before it was quickly hidden.

“He doesn’t know where she is,” Buck hissed, pulling back the hammer of his new Smith & Wesson. “So why don’t you go back under whatever rock you crawled from and leave him alone?”

“Buck, don’t,” Ezra whispered, torn between pulling the gun down and letting his friend shoot.

“Yes, Buck,” Alaric mocked, “don’t. Not unless you want to die a horrible death.”

“Oh, really?” Buck smiled evilly.

“Really,” Ezra said, grabbing the gun and forcing it down. His green eyes fixed themselves on Buck’s face, shaking his head. “He is not alone. He’d never be alone,” he whispered.

Alaric gave a short laugh. “Correct, Ezra. I admit, as I did not expect you to give her up so readily as you once did, I did bring my usual contingent with me.”

Buck grimaced and looked around at the street. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the muzzles pointing out of the upstairs windows of some of the buildings.

“Ezra,” Buck said slowly, “if I’ve got guns pointed at me, I think I should know why.”

Ezra’s lips had pressed themselves into a thin line. “This is why I wanted you to leave. You still can. In fact, I would be much obliged if you did. It’s not you they care about.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Alaric said. “Truth is, they’ve been here for a few days already, so they know not to leave this one—Mr. Wilmington, isn’t it?—out of their sight. A friend. Like the boy currently napping at the boarding house, and the colored living above the stables. On their suggestion, I waited until both the quiet ones and the grizzly one had left town before riding in from Ridge City. So, yes, I know who your friends are and, needless to say, I’ve eyes on all of them.”

Ezra shut his eyes, fighting back the tightening in his chest.

“Interesting,” Alaric said. “You care about them.” He tilted his head slightly. “I didn’t know you were capable.”

Ezra opened his eyes again, hating how much he'd just given away.

“Ezra, who is this guy?” Buck said, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with Ezra, which shouldn't have felt as good as it did to the gambler.

“Oh, let me,” Alaric said, a coldness covering the man’s eyes like frost on a window. “Ezra’s mother murdered my father, Mr. Wilmington, and I aim to bring her to justice,” he stared again at Ezra, “one way or another.”

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Buck hid his surprise at the statement, saying nothing as he didn't want to set Ezra off. He could see how tightly coiled his friend already was, and it wasn't good.

“My mother didn’t murder anyone,” Ezra stated firmly, with the stubbornness of someone who had spoken those words many times before.

“Of course not,” Alaric said, “and she didn’t kill George Peterson or Desmond DeWinter either, two other dead as a doornail husbands.”

“You know perfectly well she wasn’t anywhere near them when they passed. My mother is, and always has been, innocent. You’re just too blinded by vengeance and anger to see the truth. You always have been.”

Alaric snorted derisively. “And you’re too blinded by affection. And…" Alaric smiled sickeningly. "Perhaps not a little guilt? Guilt for having led me to her yourself all those years ago? You thought she might have done it then, what is so different now?”

“I never thought she murdered anyone! I was angry, that is all.”

“Then you are twice the fool, Ezra. Why do you go on hiding that snake?”

“I warned you once not to speak of her that way,” Ezra growled, stepping closer to the man. Buck stepped with him, keenly aware of all the guns pointed at them even if his friend may be forgetting.

“I speak only the truth. There a few more evil in this world than that creature.” He smirked. “I hesitate to call her a woman.”

Ezra’s hands gripped themselves into fists. “You should stop now.”

The older man shook his head. “She isn’t fit to be left alone, Ezra, out in society, spreading the plague that is Maude. They should have jailed her years ago or hung her from the rafters.”

Ezra’s breath had quickened. “Alaric, I’m warning you….”

“You’re right. A hanging would have been too good for her. They should deal with her the way they have always dealt with whores and witches, burned her at the stake!”

“I said leave her be!” Ezra shouted, throwing himself at Alaric, his hands aiming for the man’s jacket. In the same moment, Buck grabbed him from behind and pulled, just as the first shot splintered the planking on the side of the telegraph office inches from where Ezra’s head had just been.

“Hold your fire!” Buck shouted, almost at the same time as Alaric. The stranger held his hand up to the air, his command clear, as Buck continued to pull Ezra away, tightening his grip on his friend's arm. Calmer, Ezra shot a poisonous glare at Alaric and stood up straight, roughly wrenching his arm from the other’s hold. Buck let him, but made sure to stay within grabbing range.

Alaric lowered his hand and looked again at Ezra, his gaze clearly gauging the man’s response.

“So, that’s the way it’s going to be,” the stranger said finally. “Still your mother’s son after all. Then I suppose a stronger form of persuasion will be needed.” He looked meaningfully at Buck. “Perhaps one of your friends might help you see reason, once my men ask them properly.”

“You hurt anyone in this town, and I will kill you,” Ezra snarled.

“Really?” Alaric’s eyes brightened with the promise of battle.

“And you touch him,” Buck added quietly, “and dying will seem preferable to what will happen to you.”

Alaric glanced at Buck, then back at Ezra. Ezra's expression was tightly shuttered. The stranger licked his lips and nodded.

“Well, well, I am impressed. Not only do you care about these people, but they seem to care about you. Huh.” Alaric raised a finger to his lips, and tapped a well manicured nail against pearly white teeth. “I admit, Ezra, I was going to see how strong your nerve was again, but now that I understand better your position in this town, I don’t think I’ll be needing my men for their usual purposes.”

“Usual purposes,” Buck repeated, glancing at Ezra. He frowned when Ezra said nothing, only a twitch around the pale green eyes betraying that the words meant anything. Meanwhile, Alaric was now tapping his chin with his finger.

“A peacekeeper, Ezra, with your background,” the stranger muttered. “How did you manage it? It seems to me that only two things could have brought that around. One, you conned your way into the position and the man who hired you does not know the whole truth about you, or, two, he does know but is ignoring it for some reason. Perhaps you have something on him…?”

Ezra gave a small smile, but didn’t rise to the bait.

“In any event,” Alaric continued, “I would love to have a chat with this man. Present to him your entire history, as best as my detectives have pieced it together over the years, and see what he says.”

“Judge Travis knows all about Ezra,” Buck interrupted, “so you can take that history, as you put it, and shove it up your—”

“Buck,” Ezra snapped, “do not make this worse.” Buck twisted his lips into a smirk, but didn’t finish the statement.

“So, Judge Travis—the famous federal judge I have read about—he knows your background.” Alaric nodded, not taking his eyes off the frosty green ones glaring at him, and smiling again, said, “Then I must assume he is a fool or you have something on him.”

“Judge Travis is one of the most intelligent men I know,” Ezra said. “While there have been times that I too have questioned his keeping me here, I would never call him a fool. As to having something on him, on the contrary, he has, or rather, he had, something on me.”

Alaric’s smile broadened. “Good heavens! Your tone, you sound almost as if you respect him! That is something I never thought I’d hear in your voice. So, he knows about you, and you have nothing on him, and he isn’t a fool. Interesting….” Alaric licked his lips, eyes very bright. “But so what? Even if he does know about you, does the rest of the world? Your precious town for example?” He lifted his eyebrows.

Buck's gaze narrowed while Ezra simply glowered.

“I wonder," Alaric continued, "how they would feel if I had your local paper print up the dossier I’ve created on their so-called upright lawman? Would they be so—?”

“You’re still way off course, Ricky-boy,” Buck growled. “Mary wouldn’t print that garbage, and even if she did, how do you know it wouldn’t put Ezra up in the estimation of this town? You don’t know what he’s done for the folk here, or the sort of people they see as heroes. Besides, they all already know what Ezra is and where he came from.”

Alaric raised an eyebrow, then grinned at Ezra. “Amazing loyalty, Ezra. Truly.”

“You’re not going to get anything out of me, Alaric. Why don’t you just leave,” Ezra spat. “Believe me when I say that neither your threats of exposing me nor the threats of your bruisers will cause me to give up my mother to your warped sense of justice.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to get the papers in Washington to print your story,” Alaric replied.

Buck’s brow furrowed in confusion, while Ezra’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“I wonder,” the stranger continued, “how the government would feel knowing that one of their appointed judges has hired a lowlife like you to protect the people of the west? A con, a thief and a bastard protecting innocent woman and children? Imagine the outcry! Corruption, they’d say, villainy! I wonder how long even a venerated justice such as your precious Judge Travis would last if this belly was exposed? And you know I can do it, Ezra. My reach is longer than any mere dustbowl judge. Just a few well placed bills in the right hands, whispered words in the ears of my friends in the Senate and the House….Why, I can hear the impeachment hearing being called to order as we speak.”

Buck, for once, was speechless. Ezra’s fists clenched again.

Alaric raised his eyebrows, “So, what’s more important to you, Ezra? Your precious judge or your mother?”

“You would ruin the reputation and livelihood of one of the most respected and deserving men on the bench just to serve your own ends?” Buck asked in wonder.

“In a minute,” Ezra replied in a low voice. Alaric’s smile grew.

“That’s insane,” Buck replied. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, he can,” Ezra hissed, lowering his eyes to the ground. “He’s right, Buck. You don’t know everything about me, and, unfortunately, Alaric could make up anything he wanted. His money, his name—he could ensure that the newspapers said whatever he wanted. He’s done it before and ruined good people in the process.”

“Oh I wouldn’t call your precious New York cousins ‘good’ Ezra. That little pub of theirs—what was it called? The golden something? It was a waste hole whatever it was called, as was that whole neighborhood. It needed a good cleansing.”

“People died, Alaric.”

“I wouldn’t call them people, Ezra. Animals would have been a better term. After all, I didn’t light the fires, now, did I? The city was just reacting to another outbreak of a terrible disease….” He shrugged.

Ezra swallowed thickly and then shook his head. “I won’t let you do that here.”

“You can’t stop me, Ezra, not unless you want to share your mother’s eventual fate on the gallows.”

Ezra was silent. Buck actually growled.

“Well, Ezra? I ask again, your mother or Travis? After all, just think, if the corruption in his office that I painted went deep enough…” Alaric smiled. “…your precious judge might even share a cell with some of the same men he’s put away.”

“Don’t, Ezra. He’s bluffing! They’d kill the judge in there,” Buck said, staring with disgust at the wealthy man. “Don’t listen to this snake, he couldn’t possibly—”

“I don’t know exactly where my mother is. The last letter I received from her, however, told me that she was setting up a new riverfront casino in Saint Louis.”

“Ezra!” Buck’s jaw dropped, but Ezra was staring at the boards beneath his feet.

“How old is the letter?” Alaric asked.

“Months. She’s been out of touch for a while.”

“Months? Maude could have disappeared a hundred times in that amount of time, Ezra.”

“I’m aware of that, but mother does not keep me totally informed of her whereabouts. You know that.”

“Yes, nevertheless, I will tell my detectives to head to Saint Louis. However, if she is not there, you wouldn’t mind if I and my associates stay on here a little while longer, just in case she decides to show up again.”

Ezra shrugged.

“And you won’t leave either, will you?” Alaric said, smiling at the younger man.

Ezra closed his eyes, and whispered a negative.

“Wonderful. And if it turns out that she has indeed moved on, perhaps you would be so kind to inform me immediately the next time she sends you a letter.”

Slowly, Ezra nodded.

“Excellent. Well then, my little step-brother, thank you for your cooperation.”

Ezra didn’t answer, nor did he look up as Alaric walked away and disappeared into the double doors of the hotel. Buck grabbed his arm.

“How could you do that? She’s your mother!”

The gambler kept his head down. “Maude can take care of herself, Buck,” he whispered. “Judge Travis, on the other hand—”

“Is far stronger than you think,” Buck insisted. “We could have found a better way to deal with this.”

“Oh?” Ezra looked up. “Then believe me, Mr. Wilmington, I am all ears.” He waited a moment, then nodded as Buck had no immediate answer. “As I thought. Then I ask that you do as I, Mr. Wilmington, and pray that my mother has indeed moved on.” Pulling his arm free, the gambler walked slowly back to the saloon.
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“No, I don’t believe it!” Nathan said, shaking his head vigorously as Buck finished telling him and Mary the story in the Clarion's office. “Maude is not a murderer. Oh, she’s a swindler, like her son, and a schemer, but she is no murderer.” He crossed his arms, his mind drifting back to the woman who had once upon a time convinced him to allow the title “doctor” to be attached to his name. Though it had only been for a short time, he had never forgotten her kindness to him. And his father had had long talks with her, proclaiming her to his son to be the first southern gentlewoman he had ever known to actually be a gentlewoman.

“I agree,” Buck said as he walked back and forth in front of the desk, “but this Van Dietrich’s conviction is unshakeable, and Ezra’s not said a word since this afternoon.”

“I’ve telegrammed the Judge,” Mary said, leaning forward in her chair, “telling him of this Alaric’s threat. I’ve also sent out telegrams to try and find out what evidence this man has against Maude.” She looked vaguely out the window. “But I don’t really expect a response for a while. I did learn one thing, though, Alaric’s father, Claus Van Dietrich was indeed murdered. It happened in Charleston twenty-two years ago.”

“Twenty-two years ago?” Nathan repeated. “But that would have made Ezra…?”

“Just a boy,” Mary nodded, looking back at him. “If Maude did kill Claus Van Dietrich, then that must have been a terrible burden for a child to hide.”

“She didn’t murder anyone,” Buck said, conviction in his voice.

“How can you be so sure?” the journalist asked, raising an eyebrow. “All you have is Ezra’s word.”

“It’s not the words, ma’am,” Buck said. “It’s the way he said it.”

“Besides, you know Maude, Mary; she’s not a murderess,” Nathan insisted.

Mary frowned, shrugging slightly. “Fine, for now, I’ll agree with you, but I wouldn’t say I knew her. Anymore than I can say I know Ezra. He’s been known to hide things before, and…” she shrugged. Buck’s eyes narrowed slightly but Nathan knew neither of them could really disagree. “In any case," Mary continued, "I’ve sent out for information and written the judge. Hopefully we’ll know something more about this tomorrow.” She sighed and looked out the window again. “Shouldn’t JD be back with Chris, Vin and Josiah by now?”

“If they went out hunting from the ranch, it might take him a while to find Vin and Chris," Buck answered. "As for Josiah, we’re not really sure where the preacher is.”

“I think he went to see those new homesteaders out near the Royal ranch, but I’m not sure.” Nathan shrugged. “He did say he’d only be gone a day or so.”

“Then I guess we wait, at least for now,” Mary said, looking at them both. "And in the meantime, I'll quietly let the rest of the town know what's happening. I can't promise they'll be as loyal as the two of you, though."

"Do what you can," Buck said, walking to the window to scan the road. Nathan joined him, curious as to what he was looking at. Everyone looked to be going about their business normally. He watched as Inez left Mrs. Potter’s, holding a box of foodstuffs in her arms. A moment later, he was surprised to see Mrs. Potter herself leave the front. She rarely left her store when it was open. He tracked her as she walked across the street and right past the Clarion's window, aiming for the telegraph office. If she saw Nathan watching her, she gave no sign.

“That’s odd,” he said.

“What’s odd?” Buck asked. "No, wait, look, I think that's one of them." Buck nodded at a stranger walking down the boardwalk, a large man carrying at least two visible guns. He certainly wasn't a local. Nathan frowned. Buck, however, started to smile.

“What’s say we at least try to even the odds a little, eh?” Buck suggested quietly.

Nathan smiled wickedly.
_____________________________________________________________

“Ahem.” Gloria Potter smiled at the telegraph operator as he blinked up from his notes. He smiled and hurriedly stood, nodding at her.

“Gloria, how wonderful to see you! I didn’t expect to see you for a few days yet. Nothing wrong I hope?”

“No, no Mr. Jensen,” she said, trying to hide the slight quaver in her voice. “I merely want to send a receipt acknowledgement to a few of my suppliers.”

“By telegram?”

“Yes.”

Jensen screwed up his lips at the unusual request and shrugged. “All right. Where to?” He pulled out some yellow tickets to write on and pulled the pen from behind his ear.

“Saint Louis, San Francisco and Seattle.”

Jensen paused, his brown eyes lifting. “You…have suppliers as far away as Seattle?”

“Today I do, Mr. Jensen. Please, this is rather important.”

“Okay then,” he said, not hiding the curious tone in his voice.

“To Mrs.….uh…” she squinted a moment, “Marigold Stevens, Haven’s Rest, Crescent City. Madam stop I have received the deliveries you sent stop still need shirts, skirts and…heart pendent stop kind regards stop Gloria Potter, Four Corners.”

“I see.” Jensen put the telegram aside and pulled a new one. “Next?”

“To Mrs. Sarah Miller, Gray Dog Tavern, Seattle. Madam stop I have received the deliveries you sent stop still need wolf, golden elk and hart pelts stop kind regards stop Gloria Potter, Four Corners.”

“Ah, and San Francisco?” Jensen put the second paper aside and looked up at Mrs. Potter. She smiled and nodded.

“To…um…Mrs. Margaret Saunders, Gentle Breeze Hotel, San Francisco. Madam stop I have received the deliveries you sent stop still need shirts, chocolates, dried fruit and…” She paused, “…And, um...” She stared at Mr. Jensen, watching as his pen paused briefly, then kept going as he put "nuts" on the paper.

"Uh, no," she said, "you need to put—"

"I know what to telegraph, Mrs. Potter," Jensen said, lowering his voice. "I just sent a similar set of two telegrams for Mr. Chambers."

She smiled gratefully and continued, “Thank you. Then, um…stop kind regards stop Gloria Potter, Four Corners.” She looked behind her at the stranger who was standing in front of the telegraph office, but he didn’t seem to paying her any attention.

Jensen put the three telegrams together and carried them over to the machine. When he returned he quoted a price to Mrs. Potter and watched as she fished the money out of her purse. Her fingers passed the money over, her hands shaking slightly as they did so. Jensen took it confidently.

“I will make sure the messages get through, Mrs. Potter,” he promised her, “and if you need to send similar messages anywhere else, I have no problems sending them.”

Gloria smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Jensen.”
____________________________________________________________

"Mr. Van Dietrich?"

Alaric looked up from the lunch he was eating in his room, glancing with little interest towards the man standing there.

"What is it?"

"We've sent telegrams to Saint Louis, but we thought you should know that several others have sent telegrams today. The newspaper woman, for one."

"Who else?"

"The man who owns the bank, the owner of this hotel, and the woman who owns the general store." The man tilted his head. "We could take it down if you like."

Alaric frowned, glancing out the window, frowning for a long moment. Then, "No. We need the telegram working."

"So leave it be?"

"For now."

"We could have a chat with the operator, see if he'll tell us what's being sent. Or, tonight, we could maybe break into—"

"No need," Alaric said, shaking his head. "I'm not worried. Let them play their games."

The man snorted. "Speaking of, some of the boys appear to have gone missing."

Alaric smiled lightly. "I'm not surprised." He looked back at John. "Trust me, it won't be for long. Ezra has shown his hand already, and I'm holding all the winning cards."

Chapter Text

Chris and Vin rode into town slowly, the tracker’s hackles raised as he finally understood why he had been feeling watched for the last few days. Truth be told, when JD had found them, they were already tying up the two men who had walked into his and Chris’s trap out in the mountains. Vin had assumed they were bounty hunters. The two men’s insistence that they were in fact “detectives” had not really changed that opinion, considering their size and rather obvious lack of intelligence, but it was interesting to learn from JD exactly what their goal was.

The kid had then ridden off to find Josiah, hoping to find the preacher and bring him back by morning. Chris had ordered the two men they’d caught to take off or face worse consequences. They did so willingly. They’d ridden home quickly after that, but it was already well into evening and the fires were being lit along the street.

Chris indicated the saloon with a nod of his head and the two men moved to stop in front. Dismounting, they tossed the reins of Peso and Solon over the hitching post and walked inside.

Buck stood at the bar, leaning back on his elbows, obviously waiting for them. He nodded once. Nathan was nowhere to be seen. Ezra was sitting in one corner, a half bottle of red-eye next to him and writing something. There were a number of wadded up pieces of paper in front of the fireplace to his left, obviously tossed there, while several more looked to be burning on the fire itself.

“What’s he doing?” Chris asked, thanking Inez with a nod as she placed two glasses on the bar and a new bottle of whiskey.

“Not sure. I thought it might be his resignation, but I think he might also be trying to script letters to some newspapers. I thought I recognized the words 'Times' and 'Post' on some of them. He won’t let me read them though.”

“He’s moving like a cornered animal,” Vin noted, easily reading the tension resting on Ezra’s shoulders. “Like he doesn’t know how to get out of the hole he’s fallen in.”

“What have you done so far?” Chris asked, looking at Buck.

Buck shrugged and lowered his voice. “Took care of a handful of nuisances. Nathan has them holed up and under lock and key somewhere. I think they’re in one of the ice houses behind the hotel.”

“How many?”

“About five.”

Vin whistled.

Buck frowned. “That's nothing. One of the fellas told us that there were at least twelve of their kind running around. Maybe more.”

"We took down a couple outside of town," Chris noted. "But that means there's still some unaccounted for."

“If they’re tracking us, then one may be following the kid and one following Josiah, but the rest are likely still 'round here," Vin said. "Question is, what are they doing? Watching Ezra? Or keeping tabs on this Alaric man?”

“Probably both,” Chris said, taking a drink. “Kid said Mary was sending telegrams?”

“She hasn’t heard back yet,” Buck confirmed.

“Strange. Think the line is down?” Vin asked.

Buck shook his head. “Jensen would know. Says he can tell. Some sort of alarm goes off.”

“Hmmm,” Chris turned around and leaned on the bar next to Buck. “Has Ezra told you the story yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“We should hear it.”

“I know, I was waiting for you.”

They all looked at Ezra, who had stopped writing. Green eyes looked up, catching all three of them in his gaze. With clear reluctance, he gave them a nod.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Vin said, picking up his glass to walk over to the table.
________________________________________

"First," Ezra said, "I must apologize. I had hoped to never see--"

"Save it," Chris said. "We all got history. Let's see how bad yours is."

Ezra sighed. He wished he didn't already know that answer to that question. What he didn't know was how these men, his friends, would respond once he'd told them.

So he took one more belt of whiskey before he started to talk.

“Maude married Claus Van Dietrich of southern Indiana when I was six years old. He was her second husband, and she was his second wife. He was influential, good looking and ambitious – ideal for a climber like Maude – with two grown up sons and more money than he knew what to do with. He, in turn, wanted a beautiful trophy wife, and he got that with my mother. Of course, for her to be perfect, she couldn’t have a past, much less a son. Still, I was used to that. I stayed with relatives for most of their time together.” He shrugged, his eyes watching his fingers turn the glass in his hand instead of the faces of his friends. “Unfortunately for my mother, however, she had finally read a man wrong for the first and last time that I can remember." He exhaled shakily, trying to block out some of the memories of that time.

"Claus Van Dietrich was not the sort of man who would put up with backtalk, least of all from his wife. There was some speculation that he actually beat his first wife—Alaric and his older brother Wilhelm’s mother—to death years before. Maude was not aware of this—it's not the sort of thing that is discussed in those circles. She quickly learned, however. Less than a year later, she filed for divorce.”

He bent his head to one side, tilting the amber liquid in the shot glass in the same direction. The others waited while he gathered his thoughts.

“As you know, divorce needs cause, and Maude really only had her word that she was being beaten by the time the hearing came, as all physical impressions were long gone. Claus hired some infamous scumbag lawyers who tore her to pieces on the stand. They found out about her past—about me and who my father was—and…." He licked his lips. "Long story short, she lost. Humiliatingly. She was cut off without any money and was left in debt when she couldn’t pay her own lawyer off. So she hid me with some friends in Tennessee and ran away. I didn’t hear from her for months. Then, one day, she showed up at where she’d stashed me and we went to try our hands at some games in Charleston. I think she thought…she thought he'd have given up.” He looked up, meeting three sets of eyes and frowned deeply.

“Somehow, I’m not sure how, she ended up meeting Claus there. She never told me of the meeting, or its purpose, but something happened. I saw her running down the street, covered in blood and being chased by the local constabulary and several of Van Dietrich’s men. Obviously, we both escaped, though only barely.” He paused, filling the awkward air by downing another shot of whiskey.

“She never spoke of what happened, but, years later, I found the papers accusing her of murdering Claus in a fit of rage for what he had done to her. Apparently, he was found by Alaric on the floor of the hotel room he’d rented, dying and barely conscious from knife wounds to the back, while she was found lying next to him, unconscious. When she awoke, and couldn’t explain what happened, they accused her….It was just another thing to run from, I suppose.”

“So when did Alaric show up?” Buck asked quietly.

Ezra sighed. “The first time? When I was fourteen or so. After the debacle in Saint Louis with the riverboat. He had seen the papers of our arrest there, I guess, and saw her and my face depicted in the drawings of the hearings. We got away and made our way west. I don’t know how he tracked us to San Francisco two years later, or how he found me in particular. Maude had dumped me to head up to Crescent City, and I was feeling very resentful, so, when he asked me to tell her where she was, I admit, it didn’t take much persuasion. I practically led him to her, based on her last letter to me. But, well, Maude is quick. She disappeared from out his grasp. I disappeared too not long after, headed back east and ended up walking into the war.”

“But he found you again,” Buck said.

“Yes. In South Carolina, during one of the campaigns. Pure luck, I think. Major Ezra Spencer was on leave for a weekend, and I made the mistake of visiting the same cousins whom I’d stayed with when Maude was married to Claus. Not sure why I did it--I guess not having seen Maude for such a long time made me sentimental.” He shook his head. “They gave me up to Alaric. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell Alaric anything that time, though he didn’t believe me.” He swallowed tightly, then frowned. “I escaped back to the army and made up some story about having run into some looters to explain…to explain why I looked like I did. Common enough. Not sure they believed me, but they couldn’t afford to lose me.” He smiled. He didn’t look up still, not sure he could look into their eyes again.

“The last time he found me was when I was in New York seven years ago. My grandfather had died, so I went to the funeral. Stupid mistake. Again, I got away. Came west.” He covered his face with his hand. “That's it. Now you know more about me than just about everyone alive, except my mother…and Alaric.”

Silence enveloped the gambler, and an involuntarily shiver ran down his spine. They weren’t speaking. Were they even still there? He hadn’t heard them leave…or even breathe.

But, for some absurd reason, he was too frightened to lower his hand.

“So, you don’t really know if she killed him or not?” Chris asked. “She never herself told you what happened that night.”

Ezra lowered his hand, his gaze steady. This was a question he wasn’t afraid of.

“Yes, I do. My mother is many things, Mr. Larabee, as am I, but she is not a killer. For all her faults, she couldn’t lift a hand to anyone, much less a man like Claus Van Dietrich.”

“So, then, how was he killed?” Vin asked. “You said she was covered in blood, running from his men…?”

“I don’t know why she looked like that, but she didn’t kill him. Even if I didn’t know her, I do have some evidence. For one thing, something that they all seemed to overlook, someone had also ransacked the place he and my mother were found in, and there were items stolen. I saw my mother running, Mr. Tanner; she was barely carrying herself much less anything she might have stolen.”

Chris shook his head, while Vin just lowered his eyes. Ezra knew what they were thinking – that Maude could just as easily hired an accomplice. He’d heard that excuse before as well. Only Buck maintained Ezra’s gaze. The conman thanked him with a small nod.

“Well, seems to me that perhaps the best thing would be for her to return to stand trial. Clear her name,” Vin said.

Ezra gave a small laugh. “Pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Tanner? With the entire world against her? With her past and no real proof to speak of? Who would you believe?”

Vin opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“So, what do you plan to do?” Chris asked.

“Resign, as quickly as possible. As soon as Alaric leaves, which he will do eventually once he thinks he knows where my mother is, I’ll leave as well. Change my name and disappear, as I have always done. And, if Alaric still goes through with his threat to humiliate the Judge, find some way to stop the damage from being too severe.” He looked at the papers on the table. “I’m hoping to beat him to the punch somehow.”

After a minute, he realized that none of them were going to say anything to stop him, and the tightness that had been sitting in Ezra’s chest all afternoon twisted. He swallowed thickly, and stood up. His voice failed him, so he simply nodded at them, gathered his papers, pen and inkwell, and walked towards the stairs to his room.
___________________________________________

Still at the table, Chris looked at Vin, then Buck, and blew the air out of his cheeks.

“We just going to let him go? Without a fight?” Buck asked.

“It’s the judge's reputation, his mother's life or Ezra leaving Four Corners. I guess, when you look at it that way, having to leave here is a small price to pay,” Vin said.

“Losing your home is never a small price,” Buck argued.

“Ezra has the right to make his choices on his own,” Chris said, his eyes tracing the edges of the paper. “And, in this case, I think he may have the right of it.”

“It's not right!” Buck snarled, throwing his glass at the fire and enjoying the shatter. “There has to be another way!”

Chris glanced at him, then lowered his head. Buck stared at him, then at Vin, who was busy scrutinizing the table. Shaking his head, Buck stood, rocking his chair backwards onto the floor, and strode out of the saloon.
________________________________________

Maude stared at the telegram from Mrs. Potter, her eyes instantly recognizing the code. The Golden Hart. Alaric Van Dietrich had found Ezra again.

“My poor baby,” she whispered. Unbidden, the image of Ezra’s beaten face after her father’s funeral came to her mind, his shaking voice as he apologized over not being able to stop the fires that had destroyed the Golden Hart and the rest of the block, and she shivered. Except for that one time when he was sixteen—her anger towards him for that betrayal had long ago been purged, aware that she had been somewhat deserving—she knew that he had suffered at that bastard’s hands every time Alaric had tracked him down, looking for her. Ezra had warned her every time—the same words on the same telegram—the golden hart. And she’d run, and he’d always escaped.

Her eyes studied the clock above the bar. The ship she had been planning on taking was supposed to leave within the hour, but she still sat within the main parlor of the Gentle Breeze Hotel in San Francisco. One of her old friends, the hotel’s owner, watched her carefully from across the table, waiting to see what she was planning to do.

“He has friends there,” she said softly. “Alaric won’t be able to touch him as easily. He has men who will protect him—”

“Does he now?” the man said, neither agreeing nor denying the statement. She looked down, then at her bags sitting by the door.

“And Ezra may eventually be forced to tell him I’m here. I should get on that ship,” she said.

“Yes, you probably should.” Again, his tone was noncommittal.

She looked down at the telegram again. She thought about the woman who must have sent it. Gloria Potter was upright, honest, and obviously cared for her son. Did she know that Ezra would have to run away as well? To leave her and that town….Four Corners….

She frowned. That thought should make her happy. Isn’t that what she wanted? For him to leave that horrible, dirty little town and rejoin her? Or, at the very least, use his talents to really make something of himself somewhere of value? He could join her in Seattle, with the discovery of gold in the Klondike, the port town was rife with opportunities. He…They…

A single tear ran down her cheek, and she looked up at the man opposite.

“Charlie,” she said finally, “I need your help.”
______________________________________

Ezra walked into the hotel’s restaurant the next morning and walked straight to Alaric’s table. As he'd been ordered by the man who had woken him up this morning, he sat down opposite the older man. Alaric looked up, and smiled.

“Still here, I see. That’s a good boy.”

“Any word from Saint Louis?” the gambler asked, ignoring the jibe—Alaric knew Ezra wouldn’t leave before he did.

“Not as yet. Any idea if she might have moved on?” The older man cut into the fried bread and eggs in front of him, cramming them together onto his fork.

“She might have.”

“And when was the last time she visited you, exactly?”

“About eight months ago.”

“Eight months. Long time.”

“You know Maude.”

“Yes. I also know she loves you. She won’t be far.”

Ezra snorted, but Alaric shrugged. The older man took a bite of his food, watching Ezra as the younger man turned to look out the window.

“By the way,” Alaric said, “I found myself several men short this morning. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Ezra couldn’t resist a tiny smile as he lowered his gaze to the table. “My…fellow peacekeepers do not take kindly to being watched.”

“Yes, well, my men had best be back by my side this afternoon, or I might have to start sending letters.” Alaric grabbed his napkin and dabbed his mouth with it. Ezra’s smile fell. Alaric smiled for him and cut himself some more food. “By the way,” he continued, “my older brother Wilhelm will be here in a couple of days.” Brown eyes glittered as they looked up. “And did I mention that Wilhelm is a judge himself now? Studied under Chief Justice Chase, no less, in the old man’s dotage, and now sits on the fourth circuit. Turned out he was visiting the Arizona territories with his wife, for her health you understand, and when I told him that I was coming here and that you were here already…. Well, he seemed inclined to join the family reunion, as it were.” Alaric laughed. “I can’t wait until he sees what has happened to you—a peacekeeper! He'll spit nails!”

His laughter grew louder as Ezra quietly stood up from the table and walked out.
_____________________________

Mr. Jensen walked out of the telegraph office, scratching his head. He glanced across the street at Chris and Vin, arguing with Buck and Nathan about something in front of the saloon. Several feet away, Ezra stood off to one side, staring almost longingly down the street, as if towards escape. Frowning, the telegraph operator turned and walked to the mercantile.

The bells jingled as he walked inside, alerting Gloria to his presence. She smiled as he entered and put down some items she was arranging on one of the shelves.

“Mr. Jensen,” she said. “Can I help you?”

“Actually, Mrs. Potter, I have a reply to one of your telegrams yesterday. From San Francisco.”

Her smile wavered, but she maintained it. “Really? I…wasn’t expecting a reply.”

“Well, it is a little odd.” He walked forward and indicated the back room with his head. Still smiling weakly, Gloria nodded and led the way.
__________________________________________________

The next morning dawned bright and cold. Neither Josiah nor JD had returned, causing some anxiety among the peacekeepers. It was decided that Vin and Nathan should go look for them – Vin to track them and Nathan to be there just in case. Ezra stayed in town of course, because Alaric was still there keeping tabs on him and waving the threat of ruining the judge’s reputation over his head. Chris, meanwhile, gnashed his teeth and tried to ignore the fact that Alaric’s men were all out and about again, watching them all. He stalked them almost as much as they stalked him and by sheer force of will managed to drive at least three more of them away. Buck, on the other hand, had retreated into the arms of some of the more amenable ladies in town and seemed intent to ignore everything going on. It seemed the easiest thing to do.

Ezra straightened his cravat, sighed, and walked into the hotel again. His step was heavy as he walked over to the waiting chair at Alaric’s table, where the older man was once more eating breakfast.

“She’s not in Saint Louis,” Alaric said as the gambler settled into the chair. Ezra had been expecting Alaric to say something of the sort, so he didn’t react as Alaric continued. “She was, as you said, there up until about two months ago, but she sold her newest venture as soon as she made enough profit to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Ezra said, shrugging. “I admit that is her usual pattern.”

“So where did she go?”

Ezra shook his head.

“Don’t lie, Ezra. She has haunts. Where are they? Where might she go after Saint Louis?”

“I…maybe…New Orleans. It depends—”

Alaric slammed a fist into the table. “You think this is fun for me, Ezra? I need more than that! Where does she go when she is successful?”

Ezra shut his eyes, feeling the weight of the derringer on his right arm. It would be so easy. And his mother would be free. The judge and his friends would be safe. So easy….

“Cities, Ezra, names of taverns, hotels, saloons. Details, boy! Give them to me!”

Glazed green eyes opened, the urge fading away as the stupid fact that he couldn’t kill in cold blood, no matter how much he wanted to, woke him up.

“She…she often goes to gamble in New Orleans when she has ready cash. She also likes to visit San Francisco and Chicago. She has no usual haunts, because that would tie her to places. She can’t afford that.”

Alaric stared at him a moment, then nodded. “She wouldn’t go east again, then?”

“No. She hasn’t returned to the east coast since before the war.”

Alaric accepted that with a nod. “All right. So, New Orleans. San Francisco. Chicago. Pick one.”

Ezra’s eyes met the man’s brown ones. “Pick one?”

“Pick one. And if you’re wrong… Well, I can’t be responsible for the consequences now, can I?”

Ezra frowned. “Consequences? Already? But--”

“Oh, I’m not talking about the judge. I was wondering, Ezra, if you’ve noticed the fact that your friend Josiah hasn’t returned yet?”

Ezra’s eyes widened.

“Pick one, Ezra.”

The gambler’s heart quickened, his eyes darting to the window and back again.

“Pick!”

“San Francisco! She almost always goes there when she has money. She likes the shopping. Now where is Josiah, or so help me…!” The gambler was standing now, his right hand gripped into a fist, not caring that two other men in the hotel had also stood and had hands on their guns.

Alaric grinned. “Actually, I have no idea. But I thought that might get your attention. He is somewhat overdue, isn’t he?”

Ezra stared at the man who had just bluffed him so easily. Alaric knew him too well—he’d known Ezra had been stalling, and had simply played the game better in order to get the information he’d needed faster—as the older man always had done. The weight of the derringer was almost overpowering, his right arm shook with anticipation…

And then Ezra was gone, out the doors and running to get away for a while.
_________________________________________

Day three dawned with the same crispness, the sky as crystalline as before.

“Bastard’s brunos are really beginning to weigh on me,” Buck said, leaning against the saloon’s window frame, one arm raised up over his head as he scanned the early morning movements on the main street. His eyes tracked Alaric’s men as they talked and hovered outside of the restaurant and further along the street. “How much longer we gonna put up with this crap?”

“You got a way to make ‘em leave?” Chris asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I got a way to make ‘em dead.”

“Yeah,” Chris nodded. “But we can’t touch ‘em until they make some kind of move.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Buck growled. “Hell, Chris, I know the rules. So do Nathan and Vin and Ezra. Did you see the way Ezra pulled that derringer rig of his off his arm yesterday? Like it was poisonous snake with its fangs in his arm. I've never seen him so off his game. That Ricky’s got him and us by the thumbs and he knows it. Never knew mere words could be so powerful.”

Chris didn't respond. Truth is, he wished Josiah were here. Man might’ve had the right words to defuse the situation, or at least to make a good joke. Then his mind drifted to the conversation he’d had with Gloria Potter and Ted Jensen the night before. His jaw tensed.

Leaning his head against his upraised arm, Buck switched his gaze to the small group of townsfolk standing in front of the mercantile. Mrs. Potter was talking to them quickly, and her hands moving agitatedly.

“What do you suppose that’s all about?” Buck asked, nodding at the small gathering. Chris just shrugged, keeping his eyes down.

“Wait a minute…” Buck said then, standing up straight. “Well, thank God!” He grinned. Chris looked up, then stood and went to look out the window at what Buck was looking at.

“Finally,” Chris muttered, heading outside as he spotted the figures riding into town beyond the talking townsfolk. Buck shook his head and smiled genuinely for the first time in days.

Vin and Nathan had returned, and they had a rather bedraggled looking JD and Josiah with them. Turning, Buck ran up the stairs to get Ezra.
_____________________________________

The preacher explained about his horse going lame out on the far edges of Royal’s ranch, way out in the middle of nowhere, and then being forcibly warned by Royal’s men that he couldn’t take the shortcut through the rancher’s lands because he’d be “trespassing.” Normally, Josiah wouldn’t have listened, but even the preacher hesitated when he was on foot and facing six of Royal’s men with rifles and fast horses. So he’d started walking the long way round and had a run in with a cougar. Miraculously, he’d gotten away, but found himself even further afield and without a clue as to how to get home without going back through the cougar’s territory. Josiah rubbed JD’s hair with his hand, telling the seven of just how lucky he had been to have the kid show up when he did. Laughter rose from the group for the first time in days.

After a while, Ezra wandered away and walked out of the warm saloon, before the discussion could become more subdued. The small smile on his face fell slowly as he looked across the street at the saloon. Alaric stood outside, smoking a cigar and watching up the street for something. He’d told Ezra at breakfast that Wilhelm would be here today, and was waiting for the noon stage from the east.

Ezra glanced at his watch for the third time, and settled down on the bench outside to wait as well.

Maybe fifteen minutes later, the rattle of the arriving stage had him on his feet again. Standing to lean on a post, Ezra watched as it stopped in front of the hotel.

When a tall man, taller than Alaric, with more silver in his air and a much more subdued air stepped off the stage, Ezra sighed. Even though he’d been expecting it, he’d vaguely hoped that Wilhelm Van Dietrich was not really going to be there. Ezra hadn’t seen the man since he was a child, when Wilhelm returned from college to be there at his mother’s divorce hearing, but there was no mistaking his resemblance to Alaric, and, in particular, to Claus.

Wilhelm nodded at Alaric, who shook his hand and then pointed down the street at Ezra. Wilhelm looked in his direction, raised an eyebrow, and turned back to Alaric. He asked something, and Alaric nodded. Wilhelm shrugged then walked into the hotel, his younger brother on his heels.

Ezra frowned. He didn’t know why the older Van Dietrich brother was here. Wilhelm had never gotten involved before.

“So, that’s his brother,” Buck said, sidling up next to him. Ezra jumped about a foot, then glared at Buck. The other man smiled and patted him on the back. “Come on, hoss, come back inside. We’re all together again now. We’ll figure something out.”

“No, Buck. Not this time. This isn’t some bank robber or cattle rustler that—”

“You gotta have trust, Ez. Have we ever lost before?”

Ezra closed his eyes. “I appreciate the…the kindness, Buck, but I've already lost. I lost a long time ago, the moment Maude married into their monstrous family. Believe me, I've tried to fight him before, but when you’re on the wrong side of someone that powerful…”

“We’ll find a way.”

"No, you won't. And It’s too late anyway," Ezra said. "I told Alaric where she was yesterday morning, when I thought he had Josiah. He'll get confirmation today and be gone, and so will I."

Buck frowned. "Ez—"

"Just stop," Ezra said, sitting down and burying his face in his hands. "Please. You know I'm right. I'm not worth it."

He listened to Buck sigh, and then sit next to him on the bench. He wished it didn't mean so much to him to have this friend, to have all of them, but he also knew that the moment he could, he had to leave. He was poison—the only way to keep them safe was to disappear.

He barely even heard the second stage roll into town, this one from the west.

He looked up when he heard Buck swear loudly. And not just one swear. Buck was pouring out a stream of invectives that the devil would hesitate to string together. Ezra turned and looked towards the newly arrived stage that had pulled up in front of the Clarion, right behind the eastern stage.

“No,” he stammered, “no, it can’t be!”

He took off running, while Buck slammed open the doors of the saloon and shouted two words to the five men sitting there.

“Maude’s here!”

Chapter Text

“Get back in!” Ezra shoved his mother bodily back into the stage. “Hurry!”

“Ezra! What in the world are you doing?” she shouted as she fell into the arms of one of the passengers who was disembarking. The man caught her and fell backwards himself as the weight of her threw off his balance in the tiny space. Ezra slammed the stage door and jumped up onto the driver’s seat.

“Hey!” The stage driver shouted, coming around from the back where he’d been unloading the trunks in the rear. “Hey, stop!”

Ezra snapped the reins to get the horses moving just as the driver reached up to grab the coach gun from the back of the coach. “Move!” he shouted at the horses. “Go, go, go!”

“Ezra! Stop this at once!” Maude shouted, having managed to get her bearings again. She squealed as the stage swung sharply, riding for a moment on two wheels as the horse’s responded by pulling to quickly to the right into the street. She and the other passenger were flung sideways into the opposite side of the coach until it steadied itself again.

“Stop!” the driver yelled again as he ran after them. Stopping, he raised the coach gun. “Stop or I’ll shoot!” He pulled back the hammer, only for a large man to grab the gun's barrel and shove it down. “What the hell are you doing!” he yelled, swinging around to glare at whoever had stopped him. Josiah just ripped the rifle from his hands and turned to watch as Chris, Vin and JD ran after the stage.

Ezra half sat, half stood as he shouted at people to move, snapping the reins harder and harder. The horses’ were not moving fast enough—they were tired, he knew that, but they had to move! “Move!” he screamed.

Suddenly, men were in front of him and the stage. Five of them, all aiming guns at his head. He knew they were Alaric’s men. When he didn’t slow down, they started firing.

“Ezra!” Maude leaned her head out of the window, and screamed as a bullet buzzed past her ear. She instantly ducked back inside, still yelling her son’s name. “Ezra!”

Ezra hunkered down, willing the horses to run the men down, but they were spooked now, by the gunfire and the people running all around and the screaming. They started running out of stride with each other, pulling in opposite directions as the men blocking the way didn’t move fast enough.

The lead horse pulled to the left, heading into an alley, using his sheer strength to make the others follow.

“No!” Ezra fought with the horses, sensing their fright. “No, stop!” He pulled hard, but, just then, a bullet slammed into his right arm and his left arm pulled the reins harder, further confusing the poor beasts. His balance shot, he fell sideways, nearly losing his seat. The wagon teetered again on its side, and he heard his mother screaming as the stage slammed into the corner of the hardware store, taking a portion of the boardwalk and balcony with them.

“Ezra hold on!” He heard JD shout, as if that wasn't exactly what he we trying to do. The walls of the alley righted the coach but the vehicle’s maneuvering had slowed the horses, and the trash in the alley further slowed them down. They still moved, but as if they were stuck in molasses, twisting around the boxes and other debris and the coach splintering as it slammed into those same boxes. Miraculously, though, it didn’t stop.

Ezra was determined. He still held the reins, somehow, and he just needed to get through. Once out in the open, maybe they’d have a chance. Getting himself back together, he snapped them again.

Suddenly, someone was at the other end of the alley and leaping on the back of the lead horse.

“No!” he yelled, instinctively tensing his right arm to engage the derringer that wasn’t there. Instead, pain shot down the limb, and he shouted in agony as he realized he had to have broken a bone. The person on the lead horse pulled it to a stop, and the others followed suit. Ezra nearly pitched forward off the driver’s seat, but rocked back in time. Gripping his arm, his eyes fixed on the man who had prevented his and his mother’s escape.

Chris stared back. There was no apology in his dark gaze.
__________________________________________________

Maude crouched next to Ezra, who had fallen to his knees on the ground next to the stage, gasping in pain. She was battered, but otherwise unharmed, so didn’t say a word when Nathan ran up to check on her son. Her fellow passenger, however, a tall blue eyed Russian with a square face, complained bitterly to Chris about his bruises and the reckless danger he’d been put in and demanded some kind of recompense. Chris put up with it for about thirty seconds, before calling JD over and sticking the kid under the man’s nose. The kid gave the Russian a weak smile while Chris walked over to check on Ezra.

Ezra did not acknowledge the gunslinger at all.

“How is he?” Chris asked Nathan.

“Bullet passed through, but it fractured the bone on the way. He won’t be using it for a while, but it’ll heal,” the healer answered. Then he spoke to Ezra. “Come on, we’ll get it wrapped and splinted. We’ll also get some salve for your mother’s cuts and bruises.” He smiled at Maude, and she smiled back.

“Thank you, Mr. Jackson, you always—” she began.

“She’s not going anywhere!” Alaric’s voice boomed across the crowd, and Maude instantly stiffened. “That woman is a fugitive from justice and a murderer! She belongs in a jail until justice is served and she gets the punishment she deserves!” He shoved through the crowd until he stood just feet from Maude and Ezra.

“Alaric.” Maude’s breath quickened, her eyes widening.

“Why did you come?” Ezra suddenly demanded of her, breaking from his daze and sounding more like a child now than when he actually was one. “Why are you here?”

She turned to him, her eyes bright, not hiding her fear. “Sweetie, I—”

Alaric stepped forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her upright roughly. “Enough! You’re coming with me!”

“Let her go!” Ezra shouted, stumbling to his feet, his left arm fumbling for the gun at his right hip and silently cursing his decision not to wear his shoulder holster today. “Let her go!”

“Ezra calm down!” Chris ordered, stepping between them. “We’ll deal with this the right way.”

“There is no right way here, Chris!” Ezra growled, finally gripping his gun. But Chris was faster, his hand catching the other’s arm before he could raise the Remington.

“I said calm down!” Chris ordered. “Lower it, or I’ll take it away from you.”

Ezra stared hard into the other man's eyes, searching for something to believe in after the betrayal he’d felt before. But his fear and anger was too much with him. Chris obviously read that, because the next thing he knew, the Remington was wrested from his hand and given to Nathan.

Chris turned away then, to look at Alaric gripping Maude’s arm in what had to be a bone crushing grip. She did not cry out, though. Her eyes were watering, but her jaw was tightly held. Only the vestiges of his self-preservation instinct were keeping Ezra from taking a run at him.

“Let her go,” Chris said coolly. “We’ll take care of this.”

“Take care of what! You’ll let her go the moment my back is turned. You think I can trust you to ensure justice? I have her now, and if you think I’m letting her go you’re sadly mistaken.”

Chris shook his head. “Josiah,” he said quietly.

“Wha…?” Alaric turned in time to see Josiah smash his fist into the side of the arm he was using to hold onto Maude. He shouted in pain and his hand opened involuntarily, allowing Josiah to pull Maude away into his own arms. She was shaking badly now as she buried herself in his chest, but only the smallest peep emitted from her throat. Alaric snarled at them both.

“You give her to me,” he demanded, “or I’ll make sure that everything I’ve learned here about your precious town comes to light. How a judge hired not only a con and a thief, but a whole posse of cutthroats and scumbags.” He glared back at Chris. “A black-hearted killer with a death-wish, a fugitive bounty hunter, a drunkard ex-preacher, a womanizing bastard, a runaway slave playing doctor, and a wet-behind-the-ears kid.” He’d looked at each one of the seven as he named them. He gave a nasty smile. “Imagine what the southern senators and the temperance and Christian unions will think of all that? You almost make this too easy for me.”

“You will have your justice,” Chris growled back. “But it will be here, before a proper judge and jury.”

“I’m afraid you can’t do that, Mr. Larabee,” another, calmer voice said from their left. Wilhelm Van Dietrich walked into the throng, his height marking him as he came to a stop by his brother. He was slightly taller than Nathan, which made him easily the tallest man there, except for the Russian stranger. “This woman is accused of murder in the sovereign state of South Carolina. Your only jurisdiction in this matter is to see that she is properly transported to that location.”

“Dangerous using ‘sovereign state’ and South Carolina in the same sentence, don’t you think?” Buck sneered from the side. Wilhelm ignored the jibe, focused only on Chris.

“Properly transported,” Chris repeated, his gaze narrowing.

“Federal law demands that you send her back there, sir.”

“What about the new fourteenth amendment?” Josiah asked, still holding Maude to his side. “As I understand it, she has the right of due process.”

“Due process,” the older Van Dietrich said with a patronizing smile, “means only that she shall have a trial. But that trial will occur at the situs of the crime, not elsewhere, as per the sixth amendment to that same Constitution. Besides which, the new fourteenth amendment goes only to states. This is not a state. As such, you should refer to the fifth amendment.”

“Fine.” Josiah shrugged, then smiled. “And, yes, I spoke incorrectly. I meant to bring up the fourth amendment. The one that prohibits illegal seizures? This man has no warrant, as far as I can tell. And there are no Federal Marshals here. Until a proper warrant is presented, under the laws, we can not simply give her to you. We need proof of authority.”

Wilhelm Van Dietrich opened his mouth, then shut it. After a moment, he nodded. “True.”

“What?” Alaric rounded on his brother.

“He has a point, Alaric.”

“Absurd!”

“The law is the law, brother. We must wait until she can be remanded to the proper custody.”

“This is ridiculous, Wilhelm! They’re only stalling to give her a chance to escape again! Can’t you see that?”

Wilhelm looked stonily at his brother. Turning back to Josiah, he said, “It won’t take long to get the warrant, or to confer on my brother and his men the proper authority. However, given what you know of the circumstances, I warn you that any attempt to help her escape or to deny the State of South Carolina its right to try this woman for her crime will be considered a great violation of this still so unstable union. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Chris spat, answering for Josiah. “Nathan,” he looked at the healer, “take Ezra and his mother to the clinic for tending. I remand her to your care for now, until this is resolved.”

“No! I protest,” Alaric said, “you can not expect a colored to uphold justice! I demand—”

“I think you’ve spoken enough for one day,” Chris said, shoving past Alaric. He nodded to Wilhelm as he led the way for Maude and Josiah, and, after them, Nathan and Ezra. The gambler had his head down, the pain in his arm beginning to play with his balance. Buck, Vin and JD cased them from behind, their eyes on Alaric’s men. There were still at least seven of them swirling around on the outsides, keeping their distance but also clearly not leaving them alone either.

“Hey, what about me!” the Russian called after them. “I have bruises as well!” He started walking after them, his voice rising as he insisted on being given his due care.
_________________________________________

Ezra stared out of the window in Nathan’s tiny bedroom, his eyes tracing the pitch and fall of the roofs opposite. He turned when the door opened and Nathan walked in with Maude behind him. She smiled at her son and sat next to him, while Nathan stayed in the doorway.

“I’ll be right outside,” Nathan said, nodding at them. He shut the door just as Maude reached forward to look at her son’s tightly wrapped and splinted arm, while Ezra merely studied her sadly.
__________________________________________

Back in the clinic's main room, Nathan found the Russian sitting impatiently in the front room, the tall, blond man tapping his foot.

“Well?” the stranger asked, “they say you’re the doctor here. I have a cut on my leg.” He pointed down at his calf, the skin there as white as the plain sock that the man had rolled down to his foot. A minor scraped was visible, already fading. Nathan smiled at him, grabbed a jar of salve and a bandage from the sideboard, and tossed them to him.

“That’ll do you, stranger,” he said. “I’m going to go and fetch some more clean water. Probably shouldn’t leave until I’ve checked the rest of you.” With a wink and a smile, Nathan left the room, ignoring the blustering protests from the man at being left again.

As a result, he never saw the tiny smile on the man's face after he left.
__________________________________________

“Why are you here,” Ezra asked, his voice tight. “I thought you were heading to Alaska?”

“I…” Maude looked at him, her slim fingers still playing with the bandage, then she lowered her gaze. “I wanted to see you one more time before I got on the steamer.”

“Don’t lie, mother.”

She sighed, her eyes meeting his again. “You’re right. I'm here because I got your message.”

Ezra’s eyes widened. “What? You got it? But why? What in the world were you thinking?”

She swallowed, and shrugged. “Actually, now I’m not so sure. I…I suppose…Dang and blast, baby, I wanted to rescue you. You like it here. I know you do. And if you had to leave because of this, because of me, then you really would hate me. Oh, I know you’d pretend to not care. You’d shrug it off and act as if you never expected to stay here long, but, deep down, you’d be blaming me for ruining yet something else important to your life. I couldn’t have that. So I came to give myself up.”

“But this is ten times worse! Can’t you see that? I can’t watch them take you away. And Alaric won’t let you escape this time. You’ll be taken back in chains and…and hanged.”

“Well, at least then you’ll finally be rid of me. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

Ezra stared at her, unable to hide his shock. “Rid of you? No. Never. You are all I have.”

“No I'm not, baby. You have this town. These people. A home, a real one.”

“Mother…” Ezra swallowed. “Mother, when I was little, every time you left, it felt like someone ripped the heart out of me. But when you found me again, it didn’t matter where, I was home.” He smiled weakly. “It didn't matter if it was in Savannah or Chicago or New Orleans or some backwater town…..” He frowned, shaking his head. “And though it is true that I’m no longer that same child, the fundamental truth is that you still own me. Yes, I found a home here. There are people here….people I would die for. But you’re my mother. You will always come first.”

Maude glance up, saw the honesty in his eyes, and immediately blushed to the depths of her being with shame. He was so damnably loving sometimes, it hurt her to see it, knowing she was too scared herself to look at him in the same way. Turning away, she looked at the small window in one corner and focused on the roofs of the town beyond.

“Mother, nothing…nothing means more to me than your life.”

“Ezra—”

“No. Mother, look, Nathan gave us this small reprieve. He did this for us, to give us one last chance to get out of here.”

Maude frowned. “But what about that threat I heard Alaric make about the judge? If we leave, what—”

“I respect Judge Travis, mother, but he is not being asked to give his life. And both he and this town will survive, even if Alaric goes through with his threats. But if you leave with that bastard—I’m not even sure you’d even reach South Carolina. He has hunted you for too long, hated you for too long, and…and there is more of his father in him than he even knows. You know Alaric’s wife divorced him, mother, for the same reason you divorced Claus. He is a cruel man, and there is no way I’d ever let him touch you.”

Maude turned back to him, a tear running down her face.

“We’ll escape, mother. It’s the only way. The others won’t stop us…Well, Chris might, but I think the others will let us go.”

Maude continued to look at him, but, slowly, she nodded. “I admit, when I saw that man again, I realized I couldn’t go through with it. I hate being scared, Ezra. More than anything, I hate being scared. You know that.”

Ezra smiled, relieved. “Yes, I know.”

Maude closed her eyes and nodded again, “When?”

“The sooner the better. They won’t expect it. Nathan will be back soon, but then he’ll leave again in order to get us some food for lunch—and you should request something ridiculous, so that he’ll leave annoyed and not look behind him. Alaric is probably still preening himself because of his catch, and the others will be preoccupied trying to think of some way to help us. With any luck, they won’t notice we’re gone until Nathan comes back with the food. We’ll have at least half an hour’s head start, and I know this area well enough to get us far from here very quickly. Chaucer’s stabled right below us, and I don’t think Nathan would mind if we borrowed his horse.”

Maude nodded again, and smiled. Tears still ran down her face. “Baby,” she said, reaching forward to touch his splinted arm, “I’m sorry. I…I thought…I really thought I could do the right thing for once.”

“Mother.” Ezra grinned. “The day you do the right thing is the day Chris Larabee tells me I’m his hero.”
___________________________________

Outside the room, the Russian gave a small smile and backed away from the door. He stared at it a moment longer, before gathering his hat and coat and heading towards the front door, shaking out his rolled up pants leg as he went.

Chapter Text

“You’re sure,” Alaric said, leaning forward and staring fixedly at the Russian.

“The healer will leave to fetch them lunch, and that’s when they plan to run. No question.”

“That bitch! Well, she’s not getting away again. They may be soft on her in this town, but they’ll soon learn the right of it. Justice is justice, and it will be done.” The younger Van Dietrich brother stood up, his eyes searching out his men. The Russian stood at the same time, his eyes expectant. Alaric looked back at him, then nodded.

“Right, right, money. Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. Peeling off a number of them, he handed them to the tall man. “There’s a hundred and fifty dollars. That should see you well off for a while. Thank you for bringing me this information.”

“My pleasure,” the Russian replied, pocketing the money and then giving a small bow. “And good luck.” Giving a final smug grin, he walked back out of the hotel restaurant.

After signaling to several of his men, ordering one to fetch the rest and telling the others to follow him, Alaric walked into the main hotel and over to the clerk’s desk. He slapped a hand on the bell and called for service.

Mr. Chambers stuck his head out from the office door beyond, and then hurried over.

“Mr. Van Dietrich, how may I—?”

“My gun. Fetch it.”

“Your…your gun?”

“One of your boys offered to clean it this morning. I need it. Fetch it now.”

“Um, yes sir,” Mr. Chambers frowned slightly, but headed back towards the kitchens. He found Seth, the cook’s son, cleaning various items, one of which was Alaric’s gun. The boy indicated it with his head, and Mr. Chambers picked it up. By the time he returned, Alaric was talking to a group of about seven in the lobby men. He quieted as Mr. Chambers approached, taking the gun without a word. Opening the chamber, Alaric nodded to find it full, closed and holstered the weapon in his holster. Looking at his men, he smiled.

“Let’s go.”
__________________________________

“Say that again?” Nathan looked at Maude as if she had two heads.

“Duck, with plum sauce,” the woman said, smiling back at him. “I know that you have some Chinese in this town, and I do have a hankering for it. One of them must have the makings for the sauce.”

“Duck? You want to eat a duck?”

“Oh, yes! They’re wonderful. Near where I usually stay in San Francisco, there is this adorable little restaurant that serves it, and, though I can’t read a thing in that insane scrawl they call a language, I know enough to order the duck. If you could find someone here that makes it, I would be forever in your debt. Consider it…consider it a last meal, if you like.” She smiled wanly, batting her eyes. Nathan swallowed.

“Um, well when you put it that way, I suppose I could…maybe Josiah might know…um….” Pursing his lips, the healer turned away dazedly, his mind clearly already trying to figure out how to find someone who might know how to cook duck and wondering where the hell he was going to find a duck to cook….

Ezra patted his mother on the knee and stood up as Nathan left. This time the healer left the door ajar and Ezra watched him leave through the front.

“Okay,” he said, signaling for his mother to follow him. Maude let out an anxious breath and go up. She watched as he crept out into the main clinic room, grabbed his Remington off the side-table where Nathan had left it, then over to the outside door, reaching it before it swung completely shut behind Nathan. Catching the edge, he allowed himself enough space to be able peek outside. “Check the window,” he ordered.

Maude walked to the north facing window and scanned the road below. Not seeing anyone, she walked over to the other one and checked the other side as well.

“Nothing, as far as I can tell,” she said.

“All right. Have you your purse?”

“Yes.”

“Then, now or never, as they say.” Drawing in a deep breath, Ezra opened the clinic door wider and stepped outside. Maude hid in the shadows inside as he quickly looked around for watchful eyes, scanning the rooftops as much as he scanned the street below. Seeing nothing amiss, he stepped further onto the balcony and looked over the edge. Finally, he turned and gave her a smile, reaching out for her hand.

“Ezra, I don’t know if I should do this,” she said softly, her hand taking his. “Perhaps, after all this time, I might actually get a fair trial—”

“People don’t forget murders, mother. If anything, the knowledge of them festers, you know that.” Gripping her hand, he pulled her along behind him as he half-jogged to the corner of the building. There, he stopped and checked around the corner to make sure the stairs down were clear. Flashing Maude a grin, he pulled her down the steps behind, practically running in his haste to take advantage of the empty street.

At the bottom, he pressed her against the wall and ran to look around the front, to see if the way into the stables was clear. Maude, meanwhile, kept her back to the wall and stared across the street at the grain exchange. When Ezra returned, she stopped him before he could take her hand again.

"Didn’t Obediah’s trial happen there?" she whispered, looking at the exchange.

"What?" Ezra said. "Mother—"

"I liked Nathan's father," she said. "I could hardly believe it when you told me that that gentle old man had actually confessed just so he could have his day in court."

She’d missed most of it, but she’d caught the end, the final sentencing. Ezra hadn’t known that she was there, because she didn’t want to distract him. When Orrin Travis had proclaimed the punishment—hanging by the neck until dead—she’d seen her son’s face. Never in her life had she seen him so unguarded, and so strong. And then the fight afterwards. Ezra had three men on him at one point, before throwing them off and handily taking them down. She couldn’t help feeling a massive swell of pride at that. He was even back to back with Chris Larabee at one point, the two men seeming unstoppable, like real heroes. She almost couldn’t believe that it was her son out there, fighting for what was right. And then Obediah had fired that rifle, to stop the sheriff of Eagle Bend from hurting his Nathan. He was willing to give up everything for his son, even his own life, to protect him….

“Mother.” Ezra tugged on her sleeve. She looked at him glassily, and he frowned. “Mother, we have to go,” he insisted.

“No, sweetheart. I’ve changed my mind. I’m not running anymore.” Standing up, she stepped out from under the balcony and into the sun of the main street. Taking a deep breath, she started walking into town towards the hotel.

“Mother!” Ezra jogged after her, and grabbed her arm. “Don’t get noble on me now! We don’t have time!”

“I’m going to go with Alaric,” she insisted, shaking him off. “Besides, you shouldn’t ride with that arm. What sort of mother would I be if I let you do that?” She kept walking, the pride in her step unmistakable. Ezra groaned in frustration and matched her step.

"Mother, this is insane," he whispered to her.

She ignored him and nodded at some of the people she passed, like a queen to her subjects. “Lovely day,” she said to them, and they nodded back by habit, though their faces showed surprise and they immediately started whispering.

Ezra stumbled out a hello to Clara Stevens and her husband as they smiled at him as well, jogging to keep up with his mother. The throbbing in his arm was being matched now by a growing throbbing in his head, the cause of which was walking steadily away from him, pink skirts whipping up little puffs of dust behind her.

“Mother, please, don’t do this—”

“Stop right there!” Alaric yelled, running towards them. He’d spotted them as soon as they were in sight of the hotel, and immediately started running. His men were with him, following him like hounds after the lead horse in the hunt. Alaric pulled his gun out, running with it in hand. “You’re not escaping this time!”

“Hell.” Ezra whipped his mother back by force, shoving her behind him. “Escape? We’re not trying to escape!” he yelled back. “Can’t you see we’re walking towards—”

“He lies! Men, grab her! Don’t let that bitch get away! Hogtie her if you have to!”

“No!” Ezra stepped forward, as Alaric’s men passed their boss and swarmed towards them. “You’ll not touch her!” As if in emphasis, he suddenly ran forward and intercepted the fastest of Alaric’s men, shoving his good shoulder into the man’s stomach and tackling him to the ground. Rolling, he got back to his feet and jumped to intercept the next. “Mother! Run!” he shouted as he ducked a punch.

“Ezra!” Maude backed away, her eyes only seeing the rest of Alaric’s men and the man himself as they descending on her. Instinct kicked in and, lifting her skirts, she turned and started running. Her eyes fixed on the church, so close by, and the man running down its steps towards her. “Josiah!” she screamed, one arm reaching for him while the other held her skirts.

“You’re not getting away!” Alaric yelled. She’d dodged him once before by seeking sanctuary in a church. “You’re not pulling that trick again!” he screamed, raising the gun.

The shot rang out, and Maude screamed.
________________________________________

Time slowed down for Ezra then as he turned to see his mother grab her back, her head tilted backwards as she screamed. Blood appeared beneath her hand; her feet staggering below her. Alaric fired again, the gunshot sounding more like an echo in the gambler’s ears than a bang, and Maude crashed into the ground. Her momentum sent her tumbling, until she rolled to a stop onto her back, her head turned away from Ezra.

Everything else stopped. Townsfolk stood and stared.

A heartbeat, and Ezra moved.

Alaric started laughing as Ezra skidded to a stop besides her on his knees, reaching towards her with his one good arm and trying to ignore the dark blood pooling around her and seeping into the ground. One of her hands had been touching her face (the other still tucked beneath her) but it fell away as he turned her head, and he saw blood trickling down the side of her mouth. The hand fell to her skirts, leaving a stain wherever it touched….

“Mother,” he whispered, “God no…please, no…”

“Ezra….” Her eyes blinked to look up at him; they were still bright. The same hand that had been on her face reached for his, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “My baby boy…” she whispered, smiling up at him. “My sweet, sweet boy….” She coughed suddenly, and more blood trickled out of her mouth.

In the background, Chris and Vin quickly disarmed Alaric and his men, while Wilhelm Van Dietrich and others ran up behind them. Nathan skidded on Ezra’s other side, his hands gently lifting Maude up in order to determine the damage to her back. Ezra looked at him, waiting, but whatever hope he had was small. When Nathan finally looked up, and his dark eyes met the Ezra’s with a shake of his head.

“Ezra,” Maude whispered suddenly, the fingers of her hand pressing into his face, “I do love you. You know that. Tell me you know that,” she demanded weakly. “Please tell me you know that.”

He nodded at her. “I know.”

Turning her eyes to Wilhelm, she frowned. "And I didn't kill your father. He beat me but I never even touched him."

Wilhelm frowned at that, but said nothing. She looked again at Ezra.

"So proud," she said, smiling up at him. "So…" A shudder went through her frame and her eyes closed.

“No, don’t leave me,” he whispered weakly, gripping her hand. “Don’t leave me.”

“You’ll be all right,” she replied softly, her hand brushing his cheek.

Then her hand fell away, and her head fell to the side. Nathan pressed his hands to her neck, and sighed.

“She’s fainted. I don’t know how much time she has, but we should at least make her more comfortable, get her out of the street.”

“Let me take her, son,” Josiah said, stepping in and taking Nathan’s place. Mrs. Greene and Sarah Weathers appeared behind him.

“Not Silas’s,” Ezra said suddenly, vehemently, staring up at Josiah with a fierce gaze even as the tears streamed down his face. “Don’t take her in there! Ever!”

“I won’t. I promise. We’ll take her to the church,” Josiah promised.

“The church be damned!” Alaric shouted angrily, as Ezra stood up watching Josiah gently lift Maude up into his arms. “That body is mine! I’ve waited a long time to see that woman dead, and I’m not leaving here without it!”

Ezra froze, his breath stopping. Josiah backed away, Nathan and Mrs. Greene retreating with him to watch over Maude, but Buck and Chris materialized behind Ezra, almost from nowhere. Something in Ezra's gaze had Alaric looking a little less smug, and the smile started to fade from his lips.

“You son of a bitch,” Ezra snarled at Alaric. “You vomitous sack of manure, you poisonous boil—”

"Funny," Alaric sneered, “that’s how I’ve always thought of you. At least now you know what it feels like. I watched my father die in my arms, and now, poetically, you get to watch your toxic mother die in the same, horrible way.”

Suddenly, Alaric jumped back a foot as Ezra leapt at him, only to be saved once again as Buck appeared out of nowhere and pulled Ezra back. Ezra twisted in the grip, yelling like a trapped tiger, and kicked Buck in the shin. As Buck let go to grab at his leg, Chris was there, holding onto the gambler’s bad arm, and forcing Ezra to stop moving with the pain of having the broken limb squeezed.

“Judas!” Ezra gasped. “Let me go, damn it!”

“No. I’m stopping you from killing yourself!” Chris snapped. “You're badly injured, how long would you last?”

“You think I care?” Ezra growled back. “Just because you couldn’t kill Ella, don’t think I suffer from the same infirmity!”

Chris’s face turned to stone, but he didn’t let go. “Let the courts deal with him, Ezra. He’s murdered an innocent woman, and he will pay.”

“Innocent?” Alaric laughed. “That demoness didn’t know the meaning of the word!”

“Chris!” Ezra begged to be let go, straining against the taller man's numbing grip.

“I said innocent, and I meant it,” Chris responded to Alaric, as a limping Buck stepped in on Ezra’s other side to take his good arm again. “You just gunned down a defenseless woman in the back! You think you can just walk away from that?”

“Please,” Alaric sneered. “Don’t make me sick. Not only have I finally rid the world of a scourge as black as the bubonic plague…” He smiled as Ezra struggled to get free again. “…But I was well within my rights to stop her from escaping.”

“Escaping?” Ezra challenged. “She was walking towards you, you blistering idiot! Into town, not away from it! Just ask Clara Stevens and her husband! We passed right by them.”

“That’s right, they did. They looked like they were headed towards the hotel,” Clara Stevens called. “Maude said ‘lovely day’ to us, didn’t she dear?” she looked at her husband, who nodded.

“More lies,” Alaric said. “You were planning to escape. That whole nonsense about getting a proper warrant was designed to give you a chance! After all, where was your keeper? The colored? Nowhere to be found! You’re all liars! This whole town—”

“You saw us walking towards you yourself! Your own men can verify it. Why would we be walking into town if we were trying to escape?” Ezra demanded. “Tell me how you’re going twist that fact the way you twist all the others, Alaric! Spin it anyway you like, we were walking into town!”

“Why should I even have to bother?” Alaric said, crossing his arms. “I know what is right. I’ve stopped a murderer.”

“No,” Chris growled before Ezra could argue again, “you perpetrated one.”

“Justice has been served. I’ve avenged my father,” Alaric replied.

“You murdered an innocent woman, you son of a bitch!” Ezra shouted, his voice becoming increasingly hoarse. “She never killed anyone!”

“She killed my father! Stabbed him in the back three times!”

“No! He was stabbed once in the neck, once in the shoulder and only once in the back,” Ezra resounded hotly.

“What?” Alaric raised his hands. “So what!”

“So what?! Your damned father was six foot four and two hundred and fifty pounds! My mother is barely five and a half feet tall! Tell me how a woman that size stabs a man in the neck and the shoulder? She’d have to hold the knife way over the top of her head!”

“So? She knocked him down first.”

“With what? Her feminine wiles? There was nothing in the room to hit him with! Worse, she couldn’t have knocked that man out with a shovel, he was so bloody huge! She didn’t have the strength! He would have killed her first!”

“Then she had an accomplice! Everyone knows she had one. The room was burgled!”

“You’ve tracked my mother for twenty years, Alaric, have you ever seen her use an accomplice for anything she does? And have you ever, ever, seen her resort to theft for anything?”

“She’s a con, boy, like you. That isn’t very different from out and out theft.”

“But it isn’t the same either!”

“And she most certainly had an accomplice—she had you!”

Ezra started to laugh, the sound more hysterical than anything.

“So a child stabbed your father?” Mary asked from where she had gathered with most of the rest of the town on one of the boardwalks. “Is that what you’re arguing, Mr. Van Dietrich?”

“An eight year old boy?” Mrs. Potter added, her arms resting on the shoulders of her own ten year old son. He looked up at his mother curiously.

“You damned a woman purely on circumstantial evidence,” Mr. Jensen declared hotly.

“An innocent woman…,” Chris repeated. “Because we are all innocent until proven guilty, Van Dietrich. You have not proven anything more than that Maude Standish was unlucky enough to be in the same room the night your father was killed and his rooms burgled. You, however, gunned down a woman in cold blood, in the back no less, and in front of a town full of witnesses, including your own brother and that sort of proof is incontrovertible.”

“Don’t include me in this, Mr. Larabee,” Wilhelm Van Dietrich said coldly.

“But you are involved,” Chris said, turning on him. “After all, why are you here, Mr. Van Dietrich?”

“Because my brother asked me to be here.”

“He asked you here to make sure Ezra couldn’t use his ties to the law to prevent him from taking Maude. But he’s done more than that, he’s killed her. Are you going to pretend that it didn’t happen? Because, with or without your help, he’s under arrest for attempted murder, and, if she dies, it's murder.”

“Bullcrap!” Alaric shouted.

“I disagree, Mr. Larabee,” Wilhelm said, calmly. “I believe that he was merely attempting to prevent a criminal from escaping from justice, as she has done for far too long. She ran from him, and he shot her. If it were your family, and the woman who had killed them ran from you, would you not stop her the same way?”

Chris stared at him, and the ghost of an ironic smile crossed his lips.

“You are missing one fundamental component here, Mr. Van Dietrich,” Vin said from where he stood, loosely covering several of Alaric’s men with his Winchester, “proof. If Chris had proof, undeniable proof, then, yes, maybe, he would—any of us would—but your brother hadn’t that proof. Instead, he tracked a woman that, from the sounds of it, has been falsely accused of a crime she didn’t commit. Makes you wonder why no one ever thought to track down the things that were stolen? Or this supposed accomplice? Did anyone ever bother to try and find him?”

Alaric stared at Vin in silence, but Wilhelm Van Dietrich just smiled.

“My brother tells me you are a fugitive yourself, Mr. Tanner.”

"What I am is not—"

“All I'm suggesting," Wilhelm continued, "is that before you persist in trying to accuse my brother of something, you might take into account that I know a number of Federal Marshals who would undoubtedly be interested in learning your whereabouts.”

Vin frowned.

“As for the rest of you,” Wilhelm continued, “my brother told me about what is called the law in this town. I’d be more than willing to question Judge Travis’ fitness for office based on what he’s told me. Protecting a town with scoundrels, conmen and liars—it's unconscionable.”

Alaric was grinning now, watching his brother.

“I would therefore hesitate, gentlemen,” Wilhelm continued, “before you do something you will all regret.”

“So what are you proposing?” Chris asked slowly. Ezra looked at the gunslinger.

“Maude’s dead—or she soon will be—and we leave. It's over as far as I’m concerned.”

“Wait, I want her body!” Alaric said, grin dropping.

“We leave,” Wilhelm repeating, stressing the words for his brother, “and that’s the end of it. Neither you, this town, nor Ezra will ever hear from us again.”

“Wilhelm, no, I—”

“Shut up, Alaric. I’m sick of this business. I never want to see or talk about any of this ever again.” Turning abruptly, Wilhelm started walking away, not even bothering to wait until Chris gave his assent to the agreement.

Alaric frowned, watching him go, then turned to look at Chris and Ezra. Chris stared at him stonily, while Ezra’s gaze was nothing less than murderous. Still frowning, Alaric lowered his eyes.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked quietly.

“I guess we do,” Chris replied. Ezra growled.

Alaric nodded, and, flicking a hand in the air to indicate that his hired guns follow him, he started walking after his brother.

“Go be with your mother,” Chris ordered Ezra, before the gambler could think of a way to argue with him over what had just happened. Ezra opened his mouth, but Chris stopped him. “She’s dying. You should be with her.”

Ezra stared at him a moment longer, his expression still furious. “This isn’t over,” he snarled at Chris.

“I expected as much.” Chris let Ezra go, and Buck did the same.

Glaring at them both, Ezra straightened his jacket and turned to head to the church, holding his arm tight to his chest so as to not jerk it too much.

“Is it really over?” JD asked, walking over from where he’d also been watching the other half of Alaric’s men. Vin had walked casually after the two Van Dietrichs and their men, planning on keeping an eye on them a while longer.

“I hope so,” Chris replied darkly. “But you and Buck help Vin watch them, just in case.”
_______________________________________________

TBC...

Chapter Text

Ezra pushed through the doors, feeling the cold air of the church wash over him as he entered, trying to temper the anger and betrayal and loss that felt close to consuming him. Where had they been? His mother, gunned down, and where were the six people he'd come to believe would protect him, protect her?

He stopped a few steps in at the sight of Nathan and Josiah talking quietly down near the altar. Josiah was looking at the stains on his sleeves, while Nathan muttered something about soap. Ezra strode towards them, growing angrier and angrier at their seeming inactivity.

“Why aren’t you with her?” he demanded. “Damn it, why aren’t you with her?!”

The healer shook his head as Ezra reached them. “There’s nothing I need--”

Ezra’s fist smacking him the jaw was obviously the last thing he expected, and he fell backwards to the flagstone floor.

“Ezra!” Josiah chided.

“Get up! Help her! Do something! Don’t just give up!” Ezra shouted, glaring down at the shocked healer as Nathan held a hand to his now bruised jaw. "And you!" Ezra whirled to glare at the preacher. "Why is she alone? She needs you! It was you she was reaching for!" He threw his arms forward, shoving the preacher back a step. "What, she's suddenly not so attractive when she's covered in blood? Less worth your time?"

Josiah frowned deeply. "You don't under—"

"You aren't friends! You lied to me! What a fool I am, huh? I cannot believe I had actually started to believe that—"

“Ezra, stop it!” Chris yelled from the front of the church as he walked inside.

“Oh, Brutus!” Ezra spun around, pointing towards the doors. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, Chris Larabee. I am never forgiving you for this. Never!”

“Now, wait a moment,” Chris said, his eyes narrowing. “Listen—”

“To what? Your justification for letting the man who shot down my mother leave without a fight? How could you let him go? My mother is dying and you let her killer go!”

“Ezra, you don’t understand,” Chris actually started backing up as Ezra stalked towards him.

“Oh, but I do understand! I understand all too well! When Vin or the judge or just about anyone else in this town is threatened, me and my mother get ratcheted down in importance. You stopped the stage, and you made a deal with the devil, and I’m just supposed to bow down and let it happen?” Ezra stood nearly toe to toe with Chris now, in the middle of the church, glaring up at the taller man. “Well, I'm not. He killed my mother and he’s not going to get away with it.”

Chris simply stared at him. “I can’t let you go after him, Ezra.”

“Oh?” With almost unnatural speed, Ezra drew the Remington from his hip with his left hand and pointed at Chris’s head. “You can’t stop me. You should have taken this from me when you had the chance.”

“Ezra!”

The gambler froze at the voice, as distinctive as the rattle of the dice as they hit the pavement.

He turned, looking over his shoulder towards the back door of the church hall. His mother stood there, wrapped in a blanket. Mrs. Greene stood next to her, adjusting the blanket on Maude’s shoulders.

“Ezra, that’s enough. Put that gun away right this instant!” Maude ordered.

The gun fell to the floor, dropped from shocked fingers.

“And don’t just stand there gaping. It's freezing in this room. I’m going to head back to the small room, where, for your information, Josiah has stocked the wood stove and it is quite toasty. Are you coming?” She raised an eyebrow at him, then turned and walked back through the door.

“I think you should go, don’t you?” Chris asked quietly.

Ezra turned back to him, eyes torn between confusion and disbelief. Without a word, he turned and went after her.

Chris blew the air out of his cheeks and stared down at the Remington lying on the flagstone floor. Slowly, he bent down and picked it up. After a moment, he placed it on one of the pews and joined Josiah and Nathan by the dais. Nathan was still rubbing his jaw, while Josiah simply grimaced at the now empty doorway. Chris put a hand to his head to brush back his hair and sighed.

“Drew awfully fast, didn’t he?” Josiah asked, almost conversationally.

“Josiah.” Chris glanced at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
________________________________

Mrs. Greene helped Maude sit down on the pallet, then went about cleaning her hands of a mixture of red dye and blood. She glanced up as Ezra walked inside, grabbed the bowl of water, and walked outside. Ezra stared after her as she left, then turned to his mother.

“What…just happened here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Maude said, looking up from where she sat. “One of the best cons I have ever pulled.” She smiled smugly.

“Cons?”

“Fairly masterful, don’t you think?” she asked. “If a bit painful.” She raised her hand, which was newly bandaged. Blood peeked through the wrapping on her palm.

“You’re…not….” He shook his head. “You’re not dying.”

“No. Just hurt a little.” She smiled. “Of course,” she continued, “I couldn’t have done it without help. Your Mrs. Potter supplied the red dye, and your apothecary, Mr. Greene, the thickening agent to make it appear more like blood. Smells foul, but then I suppose blood itself is not a pleasantly smelling liquid.” She sighed, and shifted uncomfortably, a small grimace crossing her face. “Nathan provided the vials—test tubes, I think he called them—small enough not to be seen when strapped to my back and very easy to shatter. I had a small one in my hand as well,” she sighed. “Mrs. Greene has just spent the last few minutes trying to get all the bits of broken glass out of my hand and back, but I think there is still some in there.” She shifted again. “Plus, I bit my tongue. Not on purpose, though it certainly helped the charade by providing some real blood. Still, that’ll take a while to heal.” Her bandaged hand touched her mouth, then she looked up again. Ezra just continued to stare dumbfounded. She grinned suddenly.

"I have to ask, how big did the pool of fake blood get under me? It had to be at least a gallon. You should have seen the state of the dress I was wearing—the entire back was soaked in the stuff. There's even some in my hair." She patted it, as if somehow she could put the currently bedraggled blond strands back into the bun she'd been wearing.

"I—" Ezra struggled for words. "But he shot you…?"

“Oh, yes! Your sweet Mr. Chambers and Mr. Striker at the hotel, they switched the bullets in Alaric’s gun with blanks. Did that for a number of Alaric's men, just in case.” She nodded. “And your friends Vin and Nathan were prepared to fire on any of Alaric’s men who looked like they might try to fire before their boss, but I didn’t think that was likely. Alaric was the bloodthirsty one, after all. They just wanted to catch me, a simple, defenseless woman in thick pink skirts? They weren’t going to fire.” She still had the skirts of her dress on beneath the blanket around her shoulders. “I am sorry about these skirts. Ruined now, with the dye and the blood from my hand. And they were so useful for hiding things. You know there are at least five different hidden pockets in here? Ah well. Do you think someone here might be able to repair it?”

“Your skirts? Mother! You’re alive!”

Maude arched an eyebrow. “Yes, dear, I’m aware of that. It was a con, remember? I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. You had to be believable. Alaric knows you too well.” Her voice shook slightly, but whether it was from having to apologize to him or because of Alaric’s name, he didn’t know.

Ezra moved forward and sat on the pallet. “Who…who else knew?”

“Well, um, your Mr. Larabee, of course. He had to know. And Mr. Tanner. Josiah. My friend Charlie—he’s the Russian gentlemen you all so rudely dismissed. He made a nice little sum of money on this one. Also your telegraph operator, Mr. Jensen, and really, whomever Gloria felt needed to be told who could help.” She looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. Her smile fell, and, curiously, she blushed.

“I’m sorry, baby. I would have told you…I didn’t…Well, I didn’t expect your reaction to be so visceral. I....” She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Ezra’s jaw was set, his lips pressed in a thin line and his mind swirling around in circles.

“So much could have gone wrong,” he said finally.

“I know,” she said. “But this town of yours in special, Ezra. These men you’ve found…” She smiled. “…especially your Mr. Larabee. I couldn’t have done this without them.”

Ezra shrugged that off, unable to think of the gunslinger right now. “But why? Why did you do it? You could have gone to Alaska. I would have left here, and we would both have just disappeared again. As we always do. But now, sooner or later, Alaric will hear that you didn’t die, and he’ll just come back again. He’ll hunt us both down for making a fool of him. And it’ll be even worse.”

“Why should he?” She shook his head. “He knows I’m not dead yet. I can make a miraculous recovery. And, honestly sweetheart, I don’t think he’s going to look for us anymore, at least not openly, not with the threat of attempted murder hanging over his head.” She smiled. “Don’t you see? We’re free.”

Ezra stared at her, then lowered his eyes. “Mother, no, this charade—you may think he’ll give up, but he won’t. He’ll find us again. One of his spies will recognize you the next time you’re in Saint Louis, or New Orleans, or Chicago. So what was the point? Why did you do all of this? Why take the risk?”

She stared at him, her eyes bright. Slowly, she reached up at touched his face, smiling softly. “Because I want you to be happy,” she said. “And for now, that means your life here, however much I may not understand it.” She shook her head. “It is hard for me, Ezra, to think that I might lose you to this place, but I’d rather lose you to this town and these people than have you forced to leave here because of me. Now you get to stay.” She gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I suppose that doesn’t make much sense.”

Ezra frowned. “You did this for me?”

She let her hand fall as she nodded. “I want you to be free,” she said, “to stay or go as you please.”

His mind continued to swirl, not sure that what she’d done made any difference, but something came to him then with pinpoint clarity. His mother was alive. Suddenly, nothing else mattered except for the fact that she was still sitting there, talking to him. Gently, he reached out and hugged her to him.

“Mother,” he whispered, feeling the way she shook in his arms from fear, unable to hide that from him. “You will never lose me.”
___________________________________

“It doesn’t seem right,” JD said, watching as the rented stage pulled out with Alaric, Wilhem and all their flunkies. “I know what I know and yet he still tried to kill her. It shouldn’t matter that she’s still alive.”

“I know,” Vin agreed, scuffing a boot on the boardwalk.

“I think Ezra still wants to go after him,” Buck said, sipping from his beer as he sat on the bench. “He’s not doing so well at keeping still now that the initial shock has worn off.”

“What does Chris think?” JD asked, turning to Buck.

“I don’t know,” Buck admitted. “He’s acting sort of strange.”

“That’s an understatement,” Vin said. He looked up. “He wants to go after them as well. And so do I.”

“We all do,” Josiah admitted, walking up to join them. “But it may be a necessary evil to keep things the way they are.” He looked pointedly at Vin, who lowered his gaze.

“If the only thing holding you back is me….”

“It’s not,” Buck said quickly. “There is the judge and Maude herself to consider. She is still wanted in South Carolina for that murder. And then there’s all of us. Think any of us could stay if that bastard went through on his threat? And then where would the town be? It took Guy Royal all of a day before he attempted to burn it to the ground the last time we were run out. How long do you think he’d wait this time?”

Vin gritted his teeth, but didn't disagree.

“Still doesn’t seem right,” JD repeated.

“Well, Alaric has Ezra’s words to consider now,” Buck said. “I saw something in his eyes when he finally turned away. He may be able to see beyond his hatred for Maude now. Perhaps he might finally locate the man who really did this.”
_______________________________

Ezra walked slowly from the church towards the saloon, his hands buried deep in his pockets. It’d been a day and a night now since Alaric had left, and there were some things he needed to clear up. Maude remained inside the church. She was going to stay there a while before emerging and moving into the hotel in order to finish making her “recovery.” Both Nathan and Josiah were talking turns watching over her.

He pushed his way into the saloon and looked around. He saw Buck, Vin and JD playing cards over to one side, but they were not who he was looking for. Instead he sought out the one man he hadn’t been able to face yet.

With a harsh swallow, he crossed the floor and stood over the solitary table at the back of the saloon where Chris Larabee was slowly drinking himself to death.

“Mr. Larabee,” he said quietly, “may I join you?”

Chris glanced up at him, shrugged, and kicked out a chair opposite him. Ezra took it and placed both hands on top of the table.

“I owe you an apology,” Ezra started.

“No you don’t,” came the immediate reply, though it was growled half drunkenly. Chris took another swig of the red-eye in his glass and began to pour more from the bottle.

“I said I owe you an apology,” Ezra repeated, ignoring the other’s words. “I should have had more faith in you. Trusted you. For the last two years, I’ve been trying hard to convince you to trust me. And I think you were beginning to. But you can’t trust me, because…because I obviously didn’t trust you.” He stopped, wondering if he was making any sense with this circular argument. Chris took advantage of the pause.

“Look, Ezra, I said there was nothing—”

“Wait,” Ezra said, “there’s more. I said some things to you. About Ella. And I held a gun on you. I….”

“All understandable, considering. And I deserved all of it. And, frankly, if the roles had been reversed, I’d probably have killed you. At least you only threatened to.”

“Damn it, Chris, that’s not true!” Ezra slammed the table, finally forcing the other’s eyes on him, “What you did for my mother, for me, the fact that you didn’t shoot Ella, all of that just proves that you—”

Chris held up a hand. “Ezra, stop. I already said you have nothing to apologize for, and I meant it. Truth is,” he said with a sigh, “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m sorry for not slapping Alaric Van Dietrich in chains right then and there. It doesn’t matter that your mother was still alive, he still tried to kill her. I should have said to hell with your mother’s plan. I should have gone with my gut.” He took another swig.

Ezra stared at him a moment, then smiled. “Your…your gut? Your gut told you to arrest him?”

Chris gave him a dark look, then poured himself some more whiskey.

“Chris…” Ezra was almost grinning now. “You mean to say you ignored your instincts for my mother and me? That you would have arrested him but for my mother’s plan?”

“Just keep digging it deeper, why don’t you?”

Ezra just sat back, his eyes bright. Finally he shook his head. “You really are a great man, you know that?” he asked. "A truly great man."

Chris stopped as he raised the glass to his lips, then slowly put it down. He stared at Ezra like he had two heads.

“What?”

“I mean it. Thank you.”

“How can you thank me for doing something I’ve been hating myself over for two days?”

“Because you did the wrong thing for me.”

Chris stared at him a moment longer, then stood up. “You’re insane, Standish.” With a shake of his head, the gunslinger walked away from the table and out of the saloon.

But he left the bottle behind.

Ezra stood up as well, but he didn’t leave. Instead, still smiling, he walked over to where Vin, Buck and JD were playing and sat down. They stopped playing and looked at him. He grinned more broadly.

“Room for one more?” he asked.

Buck smiled back, “Always.”
__________________________________

EPILOGUE

Alaric Van Dietrich sat on the train opposite his brother, watching the Texas scenery whip past the window. Wilhelm read a book, looking pretty unconcerned about that fact that he’d just left his wife alone in Arizona while he went home and back to his bench.

Alaric shifted, then shook his head. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small notebook and a pencil. After a moment, he started scribbling furiously.

Wilhelm looked up at the noise and glanced down at the notebook.

“What are you writing?”

“Hate to admit it, but Ezra actually said some things that made sense,” Alaric said, not looking up. “I should have thought to look for Dad’s things. Maude probably didn’t do that stabbing, so I should try and find out who did, and since she can no longer tell us her accomplice’s name….” He smiled and continued to write.

Wilhelm stared at his brother for a moment, then reached out a hand to stop him.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“I said don’t.”

Alaric frowned. “Why not?”

“Why can’t you just leave it alone, Alaric? It’s been twenty-two years.”

Alaric frowned. “Leave it alone? Our father was murdered, Wilhelm. I can’t just leave that alone.”

“Our father was a bastard, Alaric,” his brother replied. “He deserved to die.”

Alaric’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “What?”

“He beat me, he beat you, and he beat our mother. He was a bastard. And, though I know you didn’t like her, you have to know he beat Maude as well. She was terrified of him. I saw it at the divorce hearing.” Wilhelm shook his head. “He threatened to cut us both off without a cent, remember? He wanted to disown me for wanting to go to law school instead of running the business, and don’t get me started on what he thought about you being a newspaperman. Everything he did was cruel. Everything. Look…leave it alone. Haven’t you done enough?”

Alaric stared at his brother. “You’d just let a murderer go?”

“Yes.”

“Well.” Alaric sniffed, and looked down at his notebook. “I suppose we disagree.” He started writing again.

“Alaric—”

“No. I’ll find Dad’s things. I’ll make her accomplice pay. Now, let’s see, there was his gold watch….”

“Alaric, please,” Wilhelm said. “Don’t do this.”

“…his cufflink case, the gold chain, the money clip, his briefcase….”

“Alaric, you won’t find those things. You’ll never find them.”

Alaric shook his head. “You know, I bet she knew where those things went,” he said. “I wonder if she told Ezra?” He looked up, his eyes sharp. “Maybe I should go and ask him. And, if Maude is still alive, perhaps I should ask her as well. She—”

“No! Damn it, Ric! You’re not going to go back there. You’re never going to go near Ezra, Maude or that town ever again.”

“Why? That stupidity about them arresting me? They won’t do it. They don’t have the balls.”

“No, you’re not going because I want this over with. I’ve watched you obsess about this for too long, brother. And now I’ve seen you kill because of it. It’s gone too far.”

“Too far? But we’ve barely begun! Just because we caught one snake—”

“Alaric, listen to me.” Wilhelm gripped his brother’s hand. “Our father was the snake. He was a lying, cheating, weasel of a man. I’ve never regretted his death. I’ve only regretted that you can’t let it go.”

Alaric snorted. “You’ve never regretted his death? What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I’m glad he died. And so should you have been. For Christ’s sake, he killed our mother. He deserved to die.”

Alaric stared at his brother, his eyes growing colder.

“Let it go, Ric. Now. Even if Maude doesn’t die, I want you to stop chasing her. Do you understand? Let it go.”

When his younger brother didn’t respond for a while, Wilhelm let go of his arm. As the silence stretched on, the older Van Dietrich picked up his book again and started to read. Alaric still stared at him.

“Wilhelm," Alaric said finally, "you once told me that you didn’t think Maude killed him. That was why you never joined me when I went after her. But this time, you came. Why?”

Wilhelm glanced up from his book. “Honestly," he said, "I suppose because I have a morbid curiosity for your obsession. I’ve never seen you wield it. And, now that I have, I never want to see you do it again.” He ended with a nod, and looked at his book again.

Alaric’s eyes narrowed. “But why don’t you think she killed him?”

Wilhelm shrugged, not looking up. “Because she didn’t. She couldn’t have. For all the reasons her son told you. It had to be a man, a tall man, with some strength. That man knocked Maude down first, then went after our father.”

“Funny, everyone else seemed to think she did it.”

“That’s because you told them she did.”

Alaric shook his head. “But you didn’t believe me.”

“No.”

Alaric took another breath. “Why?”

"Because she didn't kill him. She wasn't involved."

"You're certain of that?"

"I am."

"How? How can you be so certain?"

Wilhelm put the book down again, and looked at his brother. There was an odd knowing look in the older man’s gaze, and Alaric Van Dietrich went dead inside.

“Wilhelm,” Alaric asked slowly, “did you kill him?”
________________________________

Mary walked into the saloon, her step slow and her eyes deep in thought. At the bar, Buck and JD turned to look at her, the younger man tipping his hat.

“Something the matter, Mrs. Travis?” JD asked.

She looked up at him, almost through him, then looked around. “Are Ezra and Chris here?”

“Well, Ezra’s upstairs sleeping,” Buck said, “seeing as it’s still not quite noon, and Chris is probably over at the stables with Vin.”

“Oh.” She nodded absently. “Do you think you could fetch them for me? And meet me over at the church? And any of the others as well, if you see them.” Turning, she walked out as slowly as she came in. Buck raised an eyebrow and looked at JD.

“Flip you for Ezra,” the kid grinned. Buck growled, but pulled out a coin.
_____________________________________

Maude sat up in the bed in Josiah’s back room, leaning against an enormous amount of pillows. She managed to look sickly, despite not actually having anything wrong with her, but her eyes were very alert as Mary paced the small room. Josiah sat on the edge of Maude’s pallet, waiting patiently, while Nathan leaned against a wall.

In a matter of moments, a yawning Ezra walked in with Buck, and, a little while later, Vin, Chris and JD joined them. Maude lifted her bed sheets higher, uncomfortable at the suddenly cramped quarters.

“Mary,” Chris asked, leaning against the doorframe, “what’s going on?”

“There was an incident,” the journalist began, her eyes still downcast. “I received a copy of the headlines from the Lone Star Dispatch out of Texas this morning, and, when I saw the first one, I immediately requested the rest of the story….” She took in a deep breath and looked at Maude.

“Alaric Van Dietrich shot his brother while they were on the train bound for Little Rock. When they arrested him, he was raving that his brother had killed their father and demanded that they let him finish his brother off.” She shook her head, turning to look at Ezra now. “Wilhelm is still alive, but barely. Alaric, however, has been remanded to state care. They believe that he is mentally unstable, due to his obsession with his father’s murder, and it is expected that he may be institutionalized instead of tried.” She shook her head. “I thought you should know.”

“Wilhelm?” Maude said softly. “Alaric thinks Wilhelm did it?”

Ezra just let out a held breath, speechless for once.

“Well.” Chris crossed his arms. “That’s that then.”

Mary looked at him, surprised at his tone. “Doesn’t this bother you?” she asked.

Chris shook his head. “No, not really.”

“But—”

“Mrs. Travis, I thank you for that information,” Maude interrupted, sitting up straighter. “Most kind. Now, I’m a little tired, so, if you don’t mind…?” She raised her eyebrows. Mary frowned, but nodded.

“Of course.” She headed towards the door, frowning even more darkly as none of the others seemed to be following her out. Instead, Chris just moved aside so she could pass. She shot him a black look, then exited.

“Wilhelm,” Ezra breathed, when he heard the front doors of the church shut in the distance. “I can’t believe it. He was so damned uptight about right and wrong growing up.”

“I don’t know,” Maude admitted, looking at him. “Claus treated his boys no better than his wives. He was repeatedly cruel to them, threatening to cut them off whenever they disobeyed. And then there was the fact of what Claus did to Wilhelm’s mother.” Maude shivered, and Josiah took her hand.

“So Wilhelm gets shot, while his brother goes to the asylum,” JD said.

“It’s almost what they call poetic justice, isn’t it,” Vin mused. “No one will ever believe Alaric’s words again, now, will they?”

“No.” Ezra gave a small smile at that fact.

“And neither will ever come back here,” Maude added. “However you look at it, baby, Alaric will never come looking for you again. You’re free of him at last.”

Ezra lowered his gaze, his smile fading. For the first time in his life, he felt pity for the man who’d tormented him.

“Oh come now, Ezra,” Buck said, smiling wickedly, “don’t tell me you’re sad because you don’t have an excuse to leave us now.”

“Oh, well, I admit, it would have been a good excuse…” Ezra shrugged, his smile returning.

“No,” Chris said, “he’s just upset because he’s realized that, now that it's over, he’s going to have to compensate Mr. Conklin for the damage the stage did to his hardware store.”

Ezra’s eyes shot up, shocked. “What?”

“At least fifty dollars worth of damage, I think he told me,” Chris said. He started counting the amounts off on his fingers. “Twenty-five for the corner of the building, twenty for the damage to the walls and the things he was storing in the alley, and five for emotional distress.” Chris looked up, his gaze innocent.

Ezra stared at him, then his eyes narrowed. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m afraid so,” Chris said, smiling.

Ezra continued to stare, then sighed. “Well then I think there has been some mistake. Obviously, as a favor to the poor, tired driver of that stage and at the request of the handsome Russian gentlemen—who happens to be good friends with my mother, by the by—I was merely attempting to direct his clearly unstable horses forward to the boarding house when certain malcontents, strangers no less, created a ruckus and spooked them. Well, because of that, the horses instantly got out of control, as any normal beast would. They were in fact, aiming directly towards the front of Mr. Conklin’s store and, had I not diverted them into the alley—which, by the way, I’m not sure was of regulation size and clearly contained a number of fire hazards that are probably punishable by fairly hefty fines—they probably would have completely destroyed the store itself. Frankly, I believe Mr. Conklin owes me a reward for my quick thinking. Compensation for a job well done, and, combined with the fines I imagine he owes…Yes. All in all, he probably owes me money, don’t you think?”

Chris and the others started to laugh while Maude just smiled proudly.

“Gotta admit,” Chris shook his head, “if you pull this off, Ezra, you’ll officially be my hero for the day.”

Ezra blinked at his words, and looked at his mother in surprise, and Maude actually laughed for the first time in a very long time.
_____________________________________________

End