Archive of Our Own

Part 1:

"One...two...three...lift!"

Buck and Vin heaved the stack of lumber to their shoulders and stood, taking a moment to catch their balance before heading back toward the partially rebuilt house. The day was growing cooler and the two men hurried to complete the work before the sky made good with its threat of rain. The Widow Parker was expecting a complete roof and a repaired porch by the time she returned with her children.

A recent hailstorm had nearly torn the house to pieces. She had taken her family to stay with her mother, but without a man to rebuild the roof, she had to rely on the kindness of strangers to help her. Luckily, the lawmen of Four Corners were always ready to help a woman in need.

"Watch out for the debris," Ezra drawled as Tanner and Wilmington passed his position under the shade tree. Standish sat on a nail keg, with his back against the trunk and his hat pulled down over his eyes. Whether he actually saw them or the cited debris was negotiable.

"Seen it," Vin said.

"Helpful bastard, ain't cha," Buck chuckled as he followed Vin with the wood. They tossed the stack down on the nearly repaired porch and Vin cut away the twine that bound the boards together.

"So you were tellin' us about the Bluebird..." Vin prompted.

"Ah yes, the Bluebird, a wonderful little tavern in Baton Rouge," Ezra said with a heartfelt sigh. "An establishment that anyone would be proud to own. It was the center of activity in that part of town and always patronized by a charming collection of local characters." He paused and smiled wistfully. "There was this rather formidable man by the name of Bernard Unger. Now, Mr. Unger was capable of eating a dozen pickled eggs without a pause -- hardly touched his teeth to them. He made it look as if he swallowed them entire. A disgusting scene to be sure, but it did garner both of us a little ready cash. There was always someone willin' to bet that Mr. Unger couldn't perform the task within the stipulated timeframe."

Vin and Buck both made faces at the thought as they stacked the wood against the porch. "Gawd, Ezra," Buck remarked. "That can't be good for a man."

Ezra tilted his head enough to see them. "And it wasn't. Poor Mr. Unger nearly choked to death one night after his second performance." He smiled again, showing his gold tooth. "As luck would have it, I bet against Mr. Unger on that occasion and made a sizeable profit. I understand that he recovered well enough, but can no longer stomach pickled eggs. He has moved on to live fish I believe."

Both men laughed and Ezra continued, "Then of course there was Mr. Emil Bodreau and his fabulous flatulence."

"Flatulence?" Vin asked.

Ezra raised an eyebrow and Buck supplied, "Farting, Vin, farting."

"Fabulous farting?" Vin said in disbelief.

Ezra raised his flask to them and continued, "I kid you not. He could imitate a locomotive, any barnyard animal you chose to mention and could perform half-a-dozen songs. And he did so...how shall I say... rectally. Of course Miss Monique, the proprietress of the Bluebird, wouldn't allow the exhibition within her establishment and you may well guess the reason. You may be assured that I did not attend the performances. Mr. Bodreau worked the audience in a small courtyard near the livery."

Vin lifted his chin and asked, "So how'd ya know he really done it? I mean, if you say you never actually seen it."

Ezra waved his hand before his face. "Sometimes the wind shifted."

Buck chuckled. "That's a show I wouldn't want to be downwind of. And it's a damn good thing that this Emil guy wasn't the same one who was eating all those eggs!"

"Good Lord, yes!" Ezra agreed emphatically as Vin winced at the thought.

Buck looked up to the incomplete roof and then back to Vin. "Well, pard, I 'spect we should give up on the porch for now and get back to the roof before the rain starts up. Where do you 'spect that ladder went off to?"

"Seen it out behind the barn," Vin replied. He looked up when something caught his eye, and saw a horseman approaching. Tanner could tell immediately that it was Nathan. The unhurried pace let him know that nothing was amiss.

Tanner waved broadly to the approaching man before slapping Buck on the shoulder. "Let's get that ladder and we can make Nate get up on that roof."

Ezra raised his flask again to the departing men and settled back against the rather comfortable tree-trunk. He watched from under the brim of his hat as Nathan approached. The healer slowed and looked around, finally spotting Ezra beneath the tree.

"Where did Buck and Vin get off to?" Nathan asked as he drew near.

"Good day, Mr. Jackson. They went in search of Mrs. Parker's ladder," Ezra replied.

"I see you're makin' yourself useful," Nathan remarked.

Ezra smiled pleasantly. "I'm supervising the activities; ensuring that the roof is replaced in an aesthetically pleasing manner."

"Sittin' on your ass and doing nothin' while others work, is what you mean to say," Nathan berated. He held up a hand before Ezra could reply. "I know, I know, you don't stoop to menial labor or some such nonsense." Jackson dismounted with a sigh. "I don't even know why you came on out here, seein' as how you don't do a lick of work."

They were all working hard to complete the repairs on the house before the widow's return. They didn't need someone sitting around 'supervising'; they needed someone who could actually pull his weight.

Ezra hadn't responded, so Nathan continued, "I swear, Ezra, I don't know how a person could be less helpful than you. You'd do more good back in town. Even if you were just cheatin' the poor folk, you could at least keep an eye on things."

Jackson didn't really know why he let these words tumble out as they did. He was tired, having tended to three people that day with various illnesses before heading out to the widow's. He had been working all day long, and it appeared that Ezra hadn't even lifted a finger. Jackson hadn't seen Ezra do much of anything for the past week beyond sleeping in late and visiting with his mother.

Ezra stood slowly and brushed off his coat. "You make an excellent point, Mr. Jackson," he said evenly. "You are quite right in your statement that I would do more good at the poker tables. I would stand a better chance at profit, that's certain." He settled his hat and said, "I will bid you adieu."

Standish sauntered to where the horses had been tied beneath another tree and, after giving Chaucer a gentle pat and tightening the cinch, he mounted and was off.

"Hey, Nate," Buck said as he rounded the barn with the front of the ladder. Vin followed several paces behind with the end. An angry chicken had made her nest in it and it had taken several minutes of coaxing to free the ladder from her new home. "You feel like hammerin' in some shingles? I'm sure you've gotten plenty of practice over at the church."

Vin frowned. "Where's Ezra off to?" He could see Standish riding away at a good clip, back toward Four Corners. "Somethin' come up?"

Nathan made a gesture of disgust. "Oh, he figured out he wasn't makin' any money by hanging out here and watching you all work."

Vin set down his end of the ladder. "That ain't right..." he said, half to himself. It wasn't like Ezra to leave without saying goodbye at least. Tanner looked back toward Nathan who was examining the work that had been completed so far that day.

"Nate," Vin said after a moment. "What you say to 'im?"

Nathan didn't turn as he continued his appraisal. "Hell, nothin' he doesn't know already. Everyone else is pitching in to fix up this place and what does he do but sit around doing nothin'."

Buck sighed. "You don't think we invited him to come with us thinking he'd be doin' any of the labor, do you? I mean, we're not idiots; we know better than that. Hell, he was on patrol all night."

Nathan turned from the porch when Buck said this. He watched as Vin called after the departing man, but Standish didn't turn, and he soon was out of range.

"I forgot that Chris still had someone doing night patrol," Nathan said, looking contrite.

"He figured we needed it," Buck explained. "He felt that trouble was brewing."

Nathan nodded, his eyes trailing Ezra. "I... I didn't mean anything."

Buck shook his head. "We just wanted to get him out of town for a while. He wasn't doin' no harm out here anyway."

Vin saw Nathan's puzzled look and explained, "He's been kinda wound up since his Ma came through."

Nathan nodded. Yes, Ezra's mother could have that effect on anyone. It seemed that every time the woman breezed through town, it took Ezra a few days to find his feet again. "She's quite a disturbance, isn't she?" Nathan commented. "I'm surprised he hasn't learned how to handle it by now."

Vin lowered his voice as if someone else were able to hear them at this lonely spot. "I kinda eavesdropped on 'em the other night. Didn't mean to, but they were too close to ignore." Vin looked around suspiciously and continued, "They were doin' sums."

"Doin' sums?" Nathan asked, not understanding.

"Tryin' to figure out who owed who," Buck supplied. He hadn't been privy to the conversation, but had heard about it from Vin.

"Oh," Nathan responded. "Well that figures. I'm sure they keep pretty tight books on that sort of thing. Probably the topic for a lot of their conversations. Bet they loan money back and forth all the time. They got enough of it."

Vin looked away and said, "Nah, it wasn't like that. It started off with him braggin' about how much money he was able to make for her as a kid --pullin' scams and all -- and she was comin' back with how much she had to spend on him. You know, for housin' and feedin him, transportin' him around, doctorin', stuff like that."

"Wait a minute..." Nathan cut in. "She was bringin' up the money she spent raisin' him?"

"Yeah," Vin replied. "The two of them were throwin' numbers back and forth like they carried a ledger in their heads for all of that."

Vin sighed, remembering the conversation. He had retired to his wagon for the night when mother and son had ambled by. The two had come to a halt not far from Vin's home, and did their sums. It seemed that half the numbers Maude came up with had to do with carting young Ezra off somewhere, bribing some sort of relative or other to let him stay with them.

It had been a surprise to the tracker. Vin had always imagined Ezra spending his childhood at Maude's side, growing up in the light and excitement of the casinos across the south -- a life of wealth and privilege. He hadn't figured that young Standish had spent more time on trains and in someone's spare room.

Vin ran his hand along the brim of his hat, remembering what he had heard. Must've been a damn lonely life, he thought. Tanner told no one about the bulk of the conversation, knowing that Ezra had kept quiet about his childhood and obviously didn't want anyone to know. Vin recalled the story Maude had told about Ezra and a dog, and now Tanner seriously wondered if a word of it was true.

Vin had felt rather self-conscious as he listened to the private conversation. If he had been able to, he would have moved out of range, but he'd been trapped in the wagon and it was obvious that neither Ezra nor his mother had known of his presence within.

Finally the tracker said, "Ended up with Ezra owin' her some $400. He gave her $150 on the spot and told her he'd get her the rest."

"She took it?" Nathan asked, incredulous.

"Oh, she made to refuse it, but took it anyway," Vin replied. He looked back in the direction that Ezra had departed.

It had been a very even-keeled and sophisticated conversation. Anyone watching would have thought they were discussing the weather. Anyone who didn't know Ezra better would have thought he was unaffected by the content of the talk.

Vin knew better.

He could understand why Ezra worked so hard at keeping people at bay. Let them know you and they can learn to see through you, can start to understand what you're feeling and then the con is over. If you never let anyone close, then they can't call you on a scam. Hell, Vin wondered if Ezra had ever had a chance in his life to let someone get near him.

Vin also was familiar enough with Maude to note an awful delight in her manner, as if she gained some pleasure in the matter. The money involved seemed to be only icing on the cake to her. Rather, she appeared to enjoy poking holes in her son's facade. She had seemed disappointed in him when he owned up and paid her the money. But just the same -- she took it.

Tanner turned back toward the house. It would be raining again soon. If they didn't finish the roof before the weather worsened, then all of their work would have been for nothing. He sighed as he picked up the hammer. He wanted to finish quickly so he could catch up to Ezra in town...maybe buy the gambler a drink if Standish wasn't already drunk by that time.

Part 2:

Ezra kept his horse moving toward Four Corners. He didn't blame Nathan for what had been said. The healer had spoken nothing but the truth, of course. There was no disputing the fact that it was pointless to remain at the widow's house.

Ezra was always quick to notice when his welcome had been worn out and knew when it was best to leave. He had been enjoying himself up until then, but Nathan had made it all too clear that the time had come to depart. Truly, Ezra had been doing nothing to assist his friends and his leaving would affect nothing. He wouldn't be missed in any case.

That was nothing new. The conman had spent most of his life with this realization, that he wouldn't be missed upon his departure. He hardly seemed to be welcome anywhere. Nearly every relative that he had been dumped upon was delighted to see his backside when Maude finally came by to claim him. He was chased out of more towns than he cared to mention. He doubted if anyone, anywhere, ever pondered about him -- with the exception of those that wanted him imprisoned or dead. Well, he thought, there were a few good ones… a few.

Standish remembered the dozen or so houses he had grown up in, few could be called a 'home.' Then there had been countless boardinghouses, saloons and hotels -- simply 'places to live' for a time. He would remain until he'd worn out his welcome, and then travel onward.

Even the places he'd loved the best had eventually seen the end of him.

As he continued toward Four Corners, Ezra recalled the conversation that he'd had with his mother and pulled his hat down tighter on his head. He would have to come up with the remaining $250 soon and wipe out that debt. It wouldn't do to have it hanging over him as an easy target for Maude. The problem was that the $150 he had given her was everything he had. He'd lost everything in his ill-fated purchase of the Standish Tavern, and his latest trip to the haberdasher had seriously cut into his savings. The $150 was meant to tide him over until his next big win at the tables. Now, he had to wait until 'payday' and be happy to receive $7 measly dollars for a week of work. How did he allow himself to get into such a situation?

He looked up at the sky that was as dark as his mood. It would be raining soon. A cold wind cut through the open space and Ezra pulled his jacket close to himself and shivered. Lord, he hated the rain. He adjusted his path to avoid a knot of cattle that blocked his path. A steer with lop-sided horns lowed at him as he passed.

He thought that he'd found a place to live in Four Corners, a place where his welcome might remain open for a spell. Of course, every time he really started believing this, something always happened to remind him otherwise.

The Standish Tavern was a shining example. He had spent everything he'd saved, had gone into debt, to become the owner of his dream. He'd pictured a saloon filled with the townspeople that he protected -- all of them happy to patronize the business of one of the Seven. He'd imagined his friends at the tables --relaxing and enjoying themselves, making the Standish their favorite haunt, only too glad to spend money at their friend's establishment.

Instead, he'd been left with a debt and an empty space. The citizens of Four Corners, for whom he had risked his life, didn't even see fit to purchase a penny drink from him. The friends, with whom he worked side-by-side, didn't even bother to step into the saloon; they chose the glittering palace that his mother had created.

It had taken far too long to pay off that loan.

Well, what do you expect? Ezra thought as he continued homeward. The tavern wasn't even in the family any longer. His mother had sold it at the first opportunity. He no longer dreamed of owning a saloon of his own -- at least not in this town. He had already seen where that would lead.

It was, of course, his own fault. If he had been a better manager, he may have made it work. If he had only been able to garner some affinity among the townspeople, they may have seen fit to patronize his tavern. He'd learned from this endeavor that he was a poor manager and that the people of Four Corners didn't feel he deserved any acknowledgment.

Hell, he would have gone to his mother's casino as well, given the chance. Why would he have hung around a dung-heap of a tavern when he could have spent his time in a glittering jewel of a casino?

Then there was the business of the assassins' $10,000. He sighed, remembering the lack of trust his co-workers had displayed to him in regard to that satchel of cash. He remembered how their attitude had even driven off his own belief in himself. Maybe, he thought, maybe if just one person had shown any faith in me whatsoever. Ah hell. They had every right to behave as they had. They had been right

It all goes back to that gold mine, he thought, yes, that damn gold mine at the Seminole village. It all goes back to money and your own damn greed. It was money that made you run out on them that time, and it was lack of money -- nobody feeling it was worthwhile to spend it in YOUR tavern -- nobody believing that YOU were worth investing in -- nobody believing that YOU could be trusted with a large sum of cash. Your own damn fault -- all of it.

Money was at the root of it. No, money alone wasn't evil. The love of money was at the root of all evil. Lord, how he loved it.

Why the hell was he hanging around this dung-heap of a town when he could have a glittering-jewel of a city?

Ezra sighed again and Chaucer pulled to a stop. The horse switched his tail and waited for further instruction. Standish looked off to the east and said, "Perhaps it's time to leave, Chaucer -- to put this place behind us. It seems that what we sought is not to be found in Four Corners. Perhaps a new town and a new start would be better for us. Perhaps we might find a place without such ghosts, where we might be able to succeed in our endeavors. A larger city may be more to our liking."

Chaucer waited, listening to his owner's voice.

Ezra shook his head, remembering Larabee's words -- never run out on me again. No, Ezra thought, he wouldn't run out. He had a job now. He couldn't just go -- not now, especially since he was scheduled for night patrol again tonight.

He laughed, realizing how ridiculous it all was. He was worried that his shift would go unwatched -- that the town would go unguarded or that Larabee would be upset that he had gone missing from his duty. Meanwhile, the citizens of the town trusted him no farther than they could spit, treated him like a thief -- or worse -- a nobody.

Hell, he didn't have any cash reserves anyway. He was stuck.

Just head home -- home. Ezra turned the word around in his head, thinking of Four Corners. Up until now, home had been whatever saloon he had managed to plant himself in. Four Corners, for better or worse, had become a home to him. He honestly liked it there, in spite of its dust and lack of some of the simplest comforts. The six men that he consorted with were the closest thing to a family that he had known for a long time.

"You're being silly again, Ezra," he said to himself. "Allowing self-pity to cloud your judgement. You have nothing to feel pitiful about. You have the most skilled hands in the territory and a somewhat respected position in a decent enough town. You work with a fine collection of men -- the finest you've ever known. You see, you let your thoughts run away with you and it leads you nowhere."

He murmured to his mount and Chaucer once again started toward Four Corners. "It's all right," Ezra said to the chestnut. "It doesn't matter all in all. I suppose I've grown used to them and shall stay for a while yet. Whether or not they shall ever think of me as anything beyond their first impression is unimportant. I can live with that. I have lived that way all of my life so it's not as if it's unfamiliar to me."

He turned his head sharply at the sound of gunfire. Somewhere to the east he could hear the shots, coming one after the other. He drew his weapon and looked back toward the Widow Parker's house. It would take too long to get back to the others. Continuing on toward Four Corners wouldn't be any quicker.

"No time to search for assistance," Ezra said to his horse. "We shall inspect this on our own."

Part 3:

Ezra moved along quickly, yet cautiously toward the rocky escarpment named Kotter's Ridge. A pair of hogbacks created a bowl-like formation -- a good place to camp if it weren't for the threat of ambush.

Ezra approached judiciously, choosing a roundabout path instead of the obvious road through the middle of the Ridge. The shooting had stopped, but he could hear voices. He dismounted when he reached a place along the outside wall where Chaucer would not be seen. He rested his hand for a moment on the horse's neck and willed him into silence -- wordlessly instructing him to stay put -- before he carefully scaled the rocky walls that created Kotter's Ridge.

Standish crouched behind a parapet-like stone and peered over the top of the rocky walls. His expression darkened as he saw the sight before him. Men and horses lay scattered and motionless. A man was sprawled beneath his horse -- a beautiful white mare with her throat all stained with blood. Not far away, a boy -- no more than thirteen -- lay as if he had fallen asleep. He seemed untouched, but as unmoving as a discarded doll. Another man, some distance from Ezra's position, had been shot full in the face, taking off most of his head. A fourth man lay on his stomach in a pool of blood, his roan slaughtered beside him.

Among the dead wandered six men. They were drinking and laughing. One carried a whiskey bottle and was taking a deep pull. Ezra recognized him as Alan Henkle. Vern Dixon jerked the bottle away from Alan and taunted him with it before taking a drink himself.

The two of them, plus Pete Cummings -- who was examining the man with the roan horse -- would come into the saloon from time to time and would seek Ezra out at the poker tables. They were often flush with cash and Standish had enjoyed relieving them of it. Ezra did not recognize the other three men.

One of the unknown men was rifling through the pockets of the faceless man, making sounds of disgust at the meager contents. He withdrew a packet of tobacco from the dead-man's coat and pocketed it.

"Any sign of it, Phonse?" a large man with graying-black hair asked as he picked his teeth.

"Nah, Dean," Alphonse replied, patting the stowed tobacco. "And hardly anythin' worth lootin' off of 'em either. Ya get anything worthwhile, Pete?"

"Nothin' yet, Mr. Gibraltar. It's here somewhere," Pete said as he kicked at the man on his stomach. Cummings rolled him over with his foot and then used the toe of his boot to pull back the dead man's blood-soaked jacket.

"Vern, Alan," Dean said to two of the men with the whiskey. "Make yourselves useful and check the horses for it."

Ezra eyed the living animals. Six of them had the same distinctive brand, the symbol for infinity, split with an arrow -- the Split Infinity Ranch. Vin had pointed the brand out to Ezra that very morning as they headed through the old Vaughn Spread to reach the widow's house.

They had come across a scattered group of cattle as they traveled. Vin had been going on about how the neighboring ranchers had been using the abandoned property to graze their own herds and how the Split Infinity seemed to be the worst of the perpetrators.

Ezra had then tried to explain first 'infinity' and then the play on words with 'split infinitive.' No matter how hard he'd tried, Ezra couldn't quite get the two to truly understand the concept of split infinitive.

"Adverbs, verbs, infinitives, grammatical units...it's all a lot of hogwash," Buck had grumbled. "Long as you can understand what someone is sayin,' it makes no sense to greatly complicate it, Ezra."

"Yeah," Vin had agreed. "All that stuff is just ta overly confuse a man."

Ezra had thrown up his hands in exasperation, not knowing if the two were kidding him or not.

And now he was looking at that same brand again. At least he knew where some of these men had come from. The other horses bore a brand he didn't recognize... a tipped-lower case G. The horses were all ranch animals, belonging to two distinct establishments -- and the riders from the G, were obviously the losers in this altercation.

Alan and Vern headed toward one of the two loose horses with the G brand-- and then Ezra saw something move out of the corner of his eye. The boy, who had lain as still as death, cautiously rolled onto his stomach and then crawled toward the dead man with the white mare.

Ezra watched in fascination as the boy approached the lifeless pair. The boy looked furtively over his shoulder as he edged forward, finally crawling to the horse's belly and reaching over it to unbuckle one of the saddlebags. The boy reached in until he clasped a large, thin book, bound in red leather.

Why was that book -- a ledger of some sort -- so important that the boy would risk his life to retrieve it? Ezra thought. How could a ledger be of that much value? Stupid boy, he should be high-tailing it out of sight instead of risking his life for a list of sums.

Ezra pulled his attention from the boy. His eyes scanned the six men. Vern and Alan had caught a horse and were going through its saddlebags. Phonse and Pete were still rifling through the pockets of the dead. Dean was watching his men. It was the sixth man who looked toward the mare.

"Goddamn it!" the sixth man shouted and brought up his pistol to finish off the boy.

Ezra shot down the sixth man before he could complete his murderous task. The sound of the shot resounded in the close confines of the Ridge, freezing everyone except for the sixth man, who fell in a heap.

Bastard, Ezra thought, how dare he try to shoot that child in the back. His next thought was, what the hell am I doing? as he saw the other five men go for their weapons. It took them only a second to begin firing on his position.

Ezra ducked down behind the rocks as the bullets took out chips and shards of stone all around him. He came up a few feet to the left to provide cover for the boy. The kid was running toward a fat horse that stood nearby. The grey reared nervously at the gunfire and tried to run, but the boy had grabbed its reins.

The other five men were oblivious of the fact that the boy was escaping. Their attention was on the man in the plum-colored coat.

Ezra fired again, catching Phonse in the thigh. The man collapsed as the blood pumped furiously from his leg. For a second, the fountain of red that erupted from the downed man startled Ezra. He had certainly hit an artery on Alphonse Gibraltar -- the man would not last long.

Distracted, Ezra was struck. An explosion of pain ripped through his right arm, spinning Ezra back into the rocks.

Damned stupid fool, Ezra berated himself. He gasped against the pain as his Remington skittered away and plummeted to the surface below him. The bullet had struck him just above the elbow and hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. The right sleeve of his jacket began turning dark.

Ezra blinked, grabbing hold of the arm, quickly trying to access the injury. The bullet appeared to have gone through, tearing through the arm. Shit, that hurts! Oh Lord!

He winced as he tried to apply pressure, but quickly abandoned that task. There was no time for this sort of nonsense. He wiped his bloody hand over his jacket, regretting the fact that he was only adding to his cleaning bill.

The gunfire continued as he hunched behind the rocks. He knew he couldn't stay in hiding. That boy was still out there, and hell, those men would be coming up here any minute to try and force him out. Ezra hooked his Colt Richards Conversion out of his shoulder harness, having to flip the backward-facing gun into his left hand, and returned to the fight.

The boy had calmed the grey and mounted. He was looking back with his mouth agape, seemingly unable to take in what was happening. Loose horses were bolting about the area, finding their way out of the confined Ridge.

Get out of here, ignoramus, Ezra thought as he fired again at the men below.

Vern fell next and then Alan. Phonse was curled up in a ball, clutching at his bleeding leg while Pete and Dean fired upward.

Ezra ducked again behind the rocks, glaring at the blood that flowed down his arm. He couldn't give up his grip on the gun to attend to the wound and the arm felt like it was on fire. Can't stop now, he thought. Only two men left, but I'm going to have to reload soon.

Standish edged back out of his cover in time to see Pete turn toward the departing youth. "Get back here, you son-of-a-bitch!" Pete yelled and aimed at the boy's back.

Ezra stepped clear of the rocks to take a bead at Pete. He moved only far enough to make the shot, but it was enough. Dean fired. Ezra jerked to one side, and his feet missed their footing and he followed the path of his Remington, falling the dozen feet to the ground below.

Standish gasped at the pain of impacting the stone floor of Kotter's Ridge and he lost his grip on the Colt as something in his left arm snapped. His perspective was suddenly and horribly altered. Instead of being above the men, he was now beneath them, looking up from ground level.

He heard the sound of the departing horse and Pete firing after it, swearing and apparently missing his mark.

Dean was suddenly standing directly over him. "Who the hell are you?" the man demanded.

Ezra blinked up at him, surprised that he was still conscious at all.

His whole body seemed a mass of agony. Bruised from the fall and shot in the arm...Oh dear Lord, it hurt.

He looked in the direction that the boy had departed. The fat grey had galloped out of sight, hidden now by the rocks that formed Kotter's Ridge.

Pete Cummings was hastily binding Alphonse's bleeding leg. "Finish 'im, Mr. Hunger," Pete growled. "We gotta get that boy."

Hunger raised his pistol, aiming it at Standish's head. "Tell me who the hell you are," he demanded.

Ezra regarded him with defiance. "Nobody," he replied.

"You killed my men, you fuckin' nobody!" Dean glared at the man at his feet and then looked around the enclosed space at the bodies that lay strewn about. He turned to Alphonse as Pete shoved him into the saddle. Alphonse groaned and clutched at the saddle horn. The hastily applied bandage was already red with blood.

"Damn nobody, killin' would be too good for you," Dean muttered. "Have you any idea how much you just cost me?" He chuckled, pulled a thin knife from his belt. He knelt and drove it into Ezra's thigh.

Ezra made a gargled shout, trying to grab hold of the man, but was hardly able to move.

Hunger stood and dusted at his trousers. "Nobody's gonna find you here, you nobody. I'll leave you to the buzzards, and let you suffer alone for that you did to me. You'll be dead soon enough."

And then, Dean Hunger was gone.

Part 4:

Ezra tried in vain to reach his Colt that lay just out of reach. His left arm would not work at all – the pain was enough to tell him that something was broken. His head ached – probably hit it when he landed. He couldn't remember if he still had the derringer -- probably lost it when he was shot the first time. He could only lay quietly and watch the men depart.

What the hell were you thinking, Ezra? he thought as he watched the blood soak into his new plum jacket. It cost you plenty, this jacket. The wool was imported from Scotland, dyed and woven somewhere in England. The fabric came across the Atlantic in a great ship. An experienced seamstress in New York cut and sewed the fine wool into a jacket and then a tailor in Eagle Bend fit it to your specific measurements. Cost you a packet and look what you've done with it.

Oh, Ezra, as far as you know, that boy and his friends were bandits and you just attacked a posse of lawmen. If you survive this, you'll be incarcerated for certain. If you make it through this, they'll throw the book at you. No pardon this time. You'll be a destitute old man if you're ever released. No, they'll probably hang you. If someone finds you in time... if...

Hell, Ezra, you should know better than that. If I were to lay odds on your survival -- well, you must remember I do abhor gambling and thus leave nothing to chance. I would not take those odds.

He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Lord, his arm hurt. He tried to roll over onto his back, but he was pitched too far forward and he just couldn't find enough strength.

He watched the blood run along his wrist and down his right hand until the unhurried stream reached his fingers and dripped to the sandy earth beneath them. Soon the soil was red beneath his hand. At least he wasn't bleeding too badly, he thought, remembering the injury that Alphonse had incurred. It would make little difference in the long run -- fast or slow, the blood would eventually run out of him.

His leg throbbed mercilessly.

Dean Hunger, he thought, recalling the name. Hunger is the owner of the Split Infinity, isn't he? Don't know whether I should be grateful or not that he spared my life, he thought.

He wanted to reach the knife, but could hardly move. Would it be worse to remove it?

He wondered how long it would take for the others to miss him. It might be a couple of days. There was no reason for anyone to suspect he was missing. They would simply assume that he was sleeping in late, wouldn't they? No, no, he was supposed to be on patrol tonight. Larabee would be looking for him.

Hell, Mr. Larabee will probably think I finally ran out on him. Ezra sighed. Larabee always expected it. Well, now it's come to pass. They'll never find me here. Why should any of them want to come to Kotter's Ridge? Not a one of them, not even JD, would be vapid enough to come to this death-trap. I'll be food for the vultures and the carrion crows.

Never expected to die like this. Always thought it would be in some saloon or some dark alleyway. At least, if it had happened there, Larabee couldn't say that I ran out on him. It would have been better that way. Then, Larabee would have simply said, "Standish got what he deserved"...instead of "Standish ran out like the coward I always knew he'd be."

So where am I? Not in some fashionable casino, not a fine saloon or even a dung-heap of a tavern. Here I am-- in the middle of nowhere -- dying for something I don't even understand -- for nothing -- for some stupid book – alone –

So alone. His heart ached with the loneliness of it all. He'd always figured that this was how it would end, friendless and forgotten. It just hurt to realize it could actually happen. He thought he'd found something special in Four Corners. Instead, he'd die alone and Chris would think he'd run out on them again.

Ezra startled when he felt something touch his face. He blinked again, looking upward at the dark clouds. The raindrops pattered against his face.

Typical, he thought.

Part 5:

Vin kept Peso at a quick gait has he headed toward home. He had left the Widow Parker's house as soon as he was sure that Buck and Nathan could complete the work without him.

Tanner wanted to catch up with Ezra in town, even though he wasn't sure what he'd do once he found his friend. What the hell, Tanner thought, I don't have to talk too much. Maybe I could just keep him company for a while.

They were friends, and Vin was glad of it. Tanner shook his head, remembering a conversation that he'd had once with Standish in regard to friendship. He hoped that Ezra counted him as a friend finally.

Vin followed the tracks that Chaucer had left, noting that although Ezra had left the Parker residence at a good clip, he had slowed considerably once he was out of sight of the others.

The tracker could read the mood of the rider from the tracks of the horse. Chaucer always seemed to reflect the frame of mind of his rider, and Tanner could see a certain aimless quality to the horse's stride. A cold rain started to fall, and Tanner pulled his coat close to his chin.

Vin felt badly about what had happened at the Parker's. It had taken a certain amount of work to get Ezra to come out to the widow's house. Ezra had just finished his night patrol and was in no mood to do anything outside of getting something to eat and going to bed.

But Buck had cajoled the gambler, telling him that he could just as easily nap at the widow's as in his room. "Hell," Wilmington had said, "It'll be quieter out at the Parker place than in town -- even with all our hammerin'. 'Sides, we need some breakfast, too. We'll go when we're finished."

They had enjoyed a pleasant ride to the house. Vin had once again tried to explain something to Ezra that the gambler more-or-less ignored, and then Ezra started going on about some sort of split something-or-other that Vin couldn't get a handle on.

Vin nodded as Chaucer's path diverted around a small group of cattle that looked as if they hadn't moved in hours. A steer with lop-sided horns waggled its head and snorted as the tracker made his way past them.

Tanner respected Jackson, liked him a lot, and thought of him as a close friend. Vin could understand that a certain amount of the animosity that the healer carried toward the gambler was a deep-rooted emotion, having more to do with the southerner's arrogant accent than anything else. Of course, Ezra's sense of morality grated against Nathan's high-minded principles. And, undoubtedly, Ezra was a smart-ass. But Vin wished that Nathan would give Ezra an inch every now and again. Nathan always seemed to expect the worst out of the southerner and the fact that Ezra never explained his reasons, always led the healer to believe he was correct in all his assumptions. In fact, it seemed that Ezra played to these notions at times, for reasons that Vin could hardly understand.

Maybe the reason that Ezra was so reluctant to form any close ties with anyone had less to do with the 'art of the con' and more to do with the fact that the gambler never had been given to chance to form such alliances before.

Maybe nobody had ever given him a chance.

Vin idly watched the trail left by Chaucer, reading indecision in the steps. "What cha thinkin' 'bout, Ez?" Vin muttered to himself. He was rather startled when the trail changed direction drastically.

Vin slowed his horse and examined where Ezra had obviously paused before heading east -- not just trying to get around another set of errant cows. Kotter's Ridge was in the distance -- beyond that was Clarkston and the whole damn country.

Chaucer's gait had picked up once he changed direction. "Where the hell are ya goin', Ez?" Vin asked the building wind. Even if Ezra suddenly came up with a reason to go to Clarkston, Vin realized that this was wrong. As much as Ezra grumbled and complained about it, Vin knew that he took his duties to the town very seriously. Ezra was assigned to night patrol, and wouldn't abandon that responsibility on a whim. Hell, Standish wouldn't want to catch any of Larabee's wrath if nothing else.

Vin frowned as he turned Peso to follow Chaucer's path. Something was wrong -- something was definitely wrong.

Part 6:

Marvin Carter kept his head down against the rain as he urged the overweight grey to keep up its furious pace. The horse panted at the exertion but continued as ordered. Marv turned his head and looked backward to see if his pursuers had gained on him, but they were still some distance behind. Lagging actually. That one with the bullet in his leg was probably holding them up.

The boy ran his hand along the tooled surface of the leather-bound book. He had jammed it into his belt, up against his stomach to protect it from the rain. He hoped to God that this was all worth it. Mr. Riley was dead for this dang ledger, and so were Karl and Reid, and that man in the purplish jacket.

Marv thought about that man in the purple jacket as he kept his horse running at full gallop. Lucky thing, he thought. Where had he come from? The man had saved my life, that's for sure, had kept the ledger from Mr. Dean Hunger, gave me a fighting chance to get it to the right people.

Marv looked at the landscape that fled past him. Where the heck was he? Where the heck was Four Corners anyway? How was he to know? He wasn't supposed to be the one. He was just comin' along for the adventure. Some dang adventure.

The grey was gasping for breath now, stumbling and slowing. Ah dang, dang, dang, Marv thought as he stopped the horse. It hung its head as it fought for air. There was a rattle and a catch in the horse's breath and Marv quickly dismounted. "Sorry, Sally," he said, slapping the blown horse and bringing her to an awkward trot. Marvin took off on foot toward a little stand of trees.

Sorry Mr. Riley, sorry Karl, sorry Reid, sorry man-in-the-purple-jacket, Marv thought as he ran.

He looked toward the following men, trying to see if they changed their pace at all, but they continued steadily toward the grey horse, apparently unaware that it was now riderless.

Marv ran for all he was worth, as the rain fell like a curtain around him. He splashed through puddles and fell and gained his feet again and ran. All the while, he held the ledger close to him. He'd be danged if Mr. Hunger was going to get his mitts on it again. No, Mr. Dean Hunger would pay.

He leapt into the cover of the trees and looked again toward the riders. They were barely distinguishable through the falling rain, but it seemed that there were only two on horses now. They had stopped and were dismounting. Marv gasped for breath, trying to make out what was happening. What had happened to the third man?

Marv wiped the wet hair out of his eyes and spied another stand of trees and took off toward it.

Part 7:

The rain was falling harder as Vin approached Kotter's Ridge. The trail left by the Ezra's horse was still visible, but was gradually becoming obliterated. Tanner smiled when he saw that Ezra had changed course and didn't go straight through the Ridge, a place just begging for an ambush. He had pointed out this fact to Ezra some time ago, and Vin was glad to see some proof that Standish just might have been listening to him.

Tanner rounded the hogback and found a little niche, just big enough to shelter a horse or two, and discovered Chaucer. The horse was leaning into the rocks, doing his best to stay out of the rain. Chaucer nickered happily at the familiar horse and man. He tossed his head before leaning back into the cover, looking very uncomfortable about the weather.

Vin dismounted and approached Chaucer slowly, and patted the horse on the neck. "Where is he, huh?" Vin asked quietly. "Where'd your man go, huh, Chauce?" Chaucer nickered again, lipping Tanner's hand.

Tanner looked around, scanning the surrounding area to try and spot his friend. He didn't like this. Ezra was nowhere in sight. Chaucer shifted his weight and seemed agitated.

The tracker looked upward, knowing that Ezra must have climbed into the rocks. Standish had been obviously headed to the Ridge; he must have gone inside it. Vin could see a place here and there along the rocky surface that had been recently disturbed, but the quickly falling rain was doing its best to hide any trace of anyone's passing. Vin started climbing.

It didn't take long to scale the outside wall of the Ridge. Tanner quickly reached the same perch were Ezra had once hidden himself, and carefully looked over the edge. "Ah, shit! Shit! Shit!" Vin shouted as he saw what was revealed in the bowl-like area beneath him. He slid, crawled, scrabbled, and jumped until he had reached the floor of Kotter's Ridge.

There were seven bodies scattered in the confined area, and one of them was Ezra.

"Ezra, Ezra?" Vin repeated as he ran the few steps to his friend's side. Ezra's eyes were shut and he didn't move at the sound of his name.

"Oh, God," Vin groaned. His friend's clothing were soaked through with both blood and rain. Vin quickly assessed the injuries. It appeared that Ezra had been shot in the arm – and a knife was drive into one thigh. There was a lot of blood. Damn!

"Ez, can you hear me, pard?" Vin asked as he gently shook Ezra. His heart leapt as Ezra gasped at the movement. "You with me? Ez, you with me?"

Ezra opened his eyes and gazed glassily at the tracker. "Vin?" he asked quietly.

Crap! Vin thought, seeing the peculiar way that Ezra's arm was situated. Broken. "I'm here, Ez," Vin assured.

"Didn't run out," Ezra spoke softly, the rain hitting him on his too pale face as he blinked at Tanner.

"Never thought that, pard," Vin responded, meeting Ezra's unfocused glance. "Never." He moved until he was looming over Ezra, trying to keep some of the rain off of him.

Ezra smiled and nodded his head before closing his eyes.

"No, you don't!" Vin commanded, lightly slapping Ezra's face. "You stay with me, ya hear?"

"Where could I go?" Ezra asked, able to put a note of sarcasm in the response.

Vin smiled. "Don't be such a smart-ass." Then he added, "Can you open your eyes again?"

Ezra's eyelids fluttered for a moment and then lifted, revealing his pain-filled eyes. "Raining..." Ezra commented softly.

"Yeah." Vin nodded.

"I don't care for it," Ezra said with a sigh.

"I know. I'm gonna getcha out of it. Just let me get ya fixed up, okay?" He scowled as he took in the signs. The knife looked as it if stabbed into Ezra as he lay on the ground – defenseless and hurt. Son of a bitch! Someone would pay for that.

Ezra shuddered. "Hunger."

Vin looked perplexed. Someone as hurt as Standish shouldn't be hungry. "Let me getcha taken care of and then I'll see what I can do for that. I got some jerky and some biscuits in my saddlebags, okay?" Vin said as he shrugged off his jacket, laying it over Ezra's chest. He stepped to the body of the nearby mare and rifled through its saddlebags, bringing out a faded, dry shirt, and – thankfully – a partially filled bottle of whisky. Tanner pulled out his knife and began tearing up the cloth.

"Dean Hunger," Ezra tried again. "Infinity...split...brand. Horses."

It clicked into place. "The men who did that were ridin' horses with the Split Infinity brand?" Vin asked. "Dean Hunger's place?"

Ezra nodded and repeated, "Hunger."

Well, Vin thought, those men are as good as dead when I catch up to them.

"I'm gonna have to fix ya up, so you be quiet a bit," Vin said.

He frowned at the knife, wanting that out first. Pulling out a knife was always tricky business, but it had to be done. He ripped the shirt and doused it with whiskey. "Sorry about this, Ez," Vin said softy. "I'd give you a slug of it, but there's hardly anything here. Hold tight while I get this out."

He pressed the soaked cloth against one side of the knife, and Ezra hissed. With one smooth movement, he pulled the horrible thing out. Ezra gasped, and Vin was grateful to see that the blade was neither long nor wide. It looked as if was clean enough – if that was any blessing.

He pressed the cloth against the bleeding wound, while he used the knife to hack at Ezra's trouser leg, pulling it away from the wound.

Ezra continued to hiss, grinding his head against the earth while his hands clenched and unclenched. "Sorry, Ez. Sorry," Vin repeated softly.

The wound bled a bit, but quickly slowed under Vin's pressure. Once he was assured that it was good enough, he quickly tied it off, using the trouser leg to bind the shirt as a bandage.

Vin did his best to try to stop the bleeding from Ezra's arm. He hissed in pain when Vin firmly pressed the cloth against the wound.

"Hang in there, okay, Ez?" Vin encouraged.

"Hunger and Pete...Pete Cummings," Ezra mumbled.

"They the guys who shot ya?" Vin asked abruptly. "I know 'em."

Ezra nodded once and said, "Hunger," again. He gasped as Vin increased the pressure.

Vin winced at what he had to do. "Sorry, Ez, just hang on a piece."

The rain was still falling and they were getting soaked. Ezra's eyes were tightly shut as Vin tried to reduce the flow of blood. Ezra's pale face flinched as he said softly, "Ledger..."

"Quiet now," Vin demanded, the rain falling around them. He'd have to take care of this quickly, clean the wound and tie it off.

"Ledger...a ledger," Ezra repeated. He opened his eyes and looked to Vin, squinting against the rain. "Th..th...the ledger."

"Stop it," Vin barked, frightened by the weakness of the voice and the stutter. "I don't give a damn about no ledger. You be quiet!"

"S'important. Risked his...his life for it. Must...must be something..." Ezra's voice faded as his eyelids drooped. He forced his eyes open and looked up at Vin. "I feel so strange," he said quietly and then his eyes closed again and his face fell lax.

Part 8:

"Ezra!" Vin shouted. He placed his hand in front of Ezra's lips, and was relieved to find that Standish was breathing still. The stab wound seemed to be doing okay.. He kept the bandages covered to keep the rain from ruining his work.

Vin had been able to gather up more dry cloth from the discarded saddlebags, and quickly bandaged his friend. It seemed that he was able to slow -- if not stop -- the bleeding. The wounds were not fatal, and neither one of them alone probably would not have been too bad, but Ezra had lost a lot of blood. His clothing was soaked in it. The ground beneath him was red. Vin was afraid that he had come too late.

Before he tried to move Ezra, he would have to immobilize that broken arm. He searched the area again, looking for anything that would work as a splint. There was no wood to be found. Finally he found a quirt on one of the horses. It was the right length. It would have to do.

Ezra's eyes shot open for a second when Vin worked the broken bone into place. He uttered a quick yelp and tried for a moment to kick Vin away, but he faded quickly. "Sorry, Ez. God, I'm sorry," Vin said as he strapped the riding crop against Ezra's forearm.

By the time he was finished, they were both soaked to the skin with the rain and Vin was shivering against the cold. He was able to gather up blankets – still dry in a saddlebag -- some food, several canteens and more cloth for bandages from the dead horses, but could find nothing to use as shelter. Finally he spotted a narrow cave -- hardly more than a crack near the base of one of the large rocks that formed the ridge. He half-carried, half-dragged the unresponsive Standish to the cave and halted at the entrance.

If he could just get Ezra into the cave, he'd get some protection for him. Vin didn't have to go in with him – he'd really rather avoid that if possible. He told himself, he'd be better able to take care of Ezra if he could move around – there wasn't much room in that tight space. But deep down, an alarm was going off as he stared into the small space. His heart raced at the thought of going inside.

Getting Ezra into that cave would be difficult. The opening was about a foot-and-a-half off the ground and just wide enough for a man to squeeze through. Vin didn't see how he'd be able to carry Ezra through it.

"Don't worry," Vin assured. "We'll think of somethin'."

When Vin tried to push Ezra into the small hole in the wall of Kotter's Ridge, he was rewarded with Ezra suddenly coming to and groaning loudly. Ezra struggled against him.

"Easy, Ez," Vin said, glad to see Ezra moving at least. "It's just me. It's Vin."

Ezra quieted immediately and turned his head to Tanner. "Are we still in the rain?" he asked softly.

"Workin' on gettin' out of it," Vin replied, leaning over Ezra again, trying to keep him somewhat dry.

Ezra smiled thinly at him. "Impressive, but..." he sighed, "I'd prefer a roof of better substance."

Vin returned the smile. "I'm trying to get ya into that there cave. That should be substance enough for ya. Think you can help."

Ezra looked to his right, into the narrow cave. "I do hope that you checked for ... inhabitants."

"Sure, checked it good," Vin replied. "Now I'm gonna lift you a bit and you just try to wiggle your way in there. I'll give you a shove."

Ezra nodded and did his best, but it soon became obvious that they were not going to get anywhere with this plan. Despite Vin's help, Ezra just couldn't find enough strength to get through the small hole.

Vin sighed, realizing what he'd have to do. The cave looked small -- it would be mighty confining in there. He could already feel his breath quickening at the thought of being in such a tight place -- but he had no choice. He shoved the pilfered saddlebags and supplies into the cave, took a deep breath and then climbed over Ezra and into the hole in the wall. He fought the immediate sense of panic, steeled himself against the irrational fear that gripped him. Once he inside, he reached out and grabbed hold of Ezra, pulling him in slowly and carefully.

Finally after several minutes of cautious movement, Vin had Ezra inside. Once they were past the initial narrow aperture, the cave opened up somewhat. There wasn't enough room to sit up, but at least there was some room to move -- at least they were out of the rain. The space itself, was just big enough for the two of them.

Ezra had gasped and panted in pain as he was moved, but made no other sounds.

"Ezra," Vin said softly. "You okay now?"

"Hmmm," Ezra voiced.

"Gotcha out of the rain."

"Thank you, Vin," Ezra replied sluggishly.

It was dark in the little cave. Vin lit a match to get a better look at things. It appeared that Ezra's bandages had remained in place during the move, and the bleeding hadn't started up again, but the both of them were soaked to the skin. Ezra looked even paler in the weird light. Vin lay a hand on his forehead. He felt cold and clammy.

"You're gonna be all right," Vin said.

"Ledger. He...he...has the ..the..ledger," Ezra mumbled. "Split Infin...Infinity."

He must have hit his head badly.

Vin extinguished the lucifer before it burned his fingers and then worked one of the blankets around Ezra, who was shivering. "Yeah, yeah, Split Infinity...adverbs and all that crap. Don't you worry. They'll get what's comin' to 'em, you hear me?" Vin smiled with a realization. "So you were listenin' to me, weren't ya? You remembered 'bout that brand."

"The ledger," Ezra said, not answering Vin.

"What's this about the ledger?"

"The boy has it."

"What boy?"

"The boy with the ledger..." Ezra's voice trailed off.

"Ez?" Vin leaned over Ezra, trying to see in the dim light. Apparently Ezra was out again. Vin sighed and checked the bandages in the near-dark. He'd managed to keep them dry and they seemed to be doing their jobs. He looked beyond Ezra, out of the narrow opening to the cave.

Damn, Vin thought, I should go for help. Ezra's in bad shape. If I could start a fire, I could get him warmed up, see to him better. But there's nothin' that'll burn in this weather, no place for shelter. I should go for Nathan -- get some of his teas or some laudanum or somethin'. Vin sighed and lay his hand on Ezra's shoulder, feeling Ezra shivering beneath him.

But how could he leave Ezra? Vin couldn't get out of this cave right now if he tried. He'd have to push Ezra out first and there was no way that Vin was going to move Ezra right now.

"I guess you're stuck with me," Vin said, as he used the saddlebag to block the hole to the cave and keep the cold rain out. The meager daylight was snuffed out, plunging them into darkness.

God, he hated confined places. Already, he could feel the walls closing in on him.

Vin remembered the time that the two of them were captured by Clement Vaughn and kept in that awful cellar. He smiled, recalling how Ezra kept his mind off their confinement by tossing him that book to read, giving him a task to keep his mind off of things. Ezra had given the book, Travels in South America, to Vin after he was finished with it, and Tanner kept it in his wagon. Vin often looked through it at night, trying to read passages before he went to bed. Travels was terribly difficult to read and Tanner often spent more time looking at the ink drawings than anything else, but the mere possession of the book made him feel somewhat – well -- smarter. He spent most of his time re-reading the section about the Amazon River -- only a few pages really -- but he could at least remember what the words meant. He could almost understand the chapter about the Andes, but it didn't have as many pictures.

Ezra muttered something and Vin had to lean close to him to hear, "Didn't run out."

Vin rested his hand on Ezra's shoulder. "I know, I know," he repeated quietly. "Never thought it for a moment."

Part 9:

Buck and Nathan had hurried to complete their work on the roof, but the rain had started before they were finished. They moved the horses into the barn and sought refuge in the house, starting a fire in the wood stove to warm themselves and to dry their clothes.

"Might as well spend the night," Nathan declared, looking out at the cloud-covered and darkening sky. "Looks like it'll keep up 'til morning."

"By the looks of those clouds, it'll rain enough frighten ol' Noah," Buck said as he pulled off his boots and set them before the fire.

"Least ways, we'll be in the right place to finish the roof come mornin'," Nathan said with a nod. "And we'll have the chance to check our work for leaks tonight." He looked upward at the house's ceiling, hoping to not see any sign of dripping water.

"Yup," Buck agreed, relaxing in front of the wood stove, with his feet propped up on the rail. He turned his head toward the window and watched the rain fall.

All things considered, Buck would have preferred to have gone home. Lucky Vin -- at least he had the common sense to take off toward Four Corners before the rain. Buck was glad that, in any case, Vin had made it home. Wilmington had been somewhat surprised when Vin declared that he was cutting out early, but he realized the reason why.

Buck pulled off his wet jacket and dropped it next to the fire. He hoped that Vin and Ezra were getting drunk somewhere in town, that at least Ezra wasn't alone. Buck knew that something had been eating at Ezra since his mother's arrival in town and it wasn't until Vin told him about the overheard conversation that he knew the reason. His opinion of Maude dropped quite a bit after that.

Buck tried to imagine what it would be like to have had such a conversation and he couldn't quite fathom it. His mother had always given him the best that she could, treating him to little things that she could barely afford. He had been loved and coddled by the dozen or so women in the brothel and, in spite of everything, thought that he'd had a fairly decent childhood.

Nathan stood before the stove, holding his hands to the heat. "Nothin' like a hard day's work to make a man feel good -- good and tired."

Buck nodded and remembered what had happened earlier. "Ya know, Nate, it weren't really fair what you said to Ezra today."

Nathan sighed and gave Buck a sideways glance. "I didn't know you'd invited him and all. Sorry about that."

"He was on patrol all last night and has tonight, too. Been ridin' the night ever since his Ma came and went."

Nathan shook his head. "I didn't know, Buck."

"Seven nights in a row -- this one's the eighth."

Nathan grimaced. "Really, Buck, I didn't know."

Buck pulled off his hat and tossed it beside his boots. "Ya don't give 'im the benefit of the doubt, Nate."

Nathan shook his head. "You know Buck, it's not all my doin'. All he had to do was tell me what he'd been up to. Why couldn't he just say it?"

Buck shrugged. "It's not his way to go explainin' himself. Probably has figured it ain't worth the trouble by now. I knew he was ridin' the night. Vin knew. You just don't bother to note things like that sometimes."

Jackson exhaled slowly. "I suppose you're right, Buck," he said after a minute. "It's usually not my business who's takin' on the night patrol. I've been pretty busy lately tendin' to the folks in town. I just haven't had time to notice who's got which duty shift."

"Yeah," Buck said. "I know. You have plenty on your plate, but sometimes you should note stuff like that." Buck turned his head again to the window and the encroaching night, watching the rain tap against the pane.

Part 10:

Josiah looked up from his work as Chris stormed into the church. "Good evening, brother," Josiah said, careful of Larabee's apparent bad mood.

"Have you seen him anywhere?" Chris questioned.

"It'd help me to know who you're talkin' about," Josiah responded.

"Ezra. Have you seen him?"

"Not since he left this morning with Vin and Buck. I believe he was just finishing up his patrol when they headed out to the Widow Parker's.

Chris chewed his lip as he lowered himself into one of the pews. "Damn it," he muttered.

"He ain't back?"

"No, none of them are. Nate headed out there, too. Wish that southern pain-in-the-ass was still tellin' me his where-abouts every minute of the day."

Josiah chuckled. "You just about choked him when he was doin' exactly that. I think you stood it for three days."

Chris shook his head sharply. "Why does he always try to irritate the hell out of me?"

Josiah grinned. "I don't know if it's his aim, or if it's pure luck. He does have a talent for it, in any case."

"He should be here by now."

"Could be nothing," Josiah said helpfully. "Dependin' on when they stopped work, they may have just decided to stay put and avoid the rain."

"Yeah, except that Ezra's on patrol again tonight." Chris leaned forward, resting his arms on the back of the pew in front of him. "His horse isn't in the livery."

"Maybe he forgot."

"Hell, Josiah, he's been on night patrol all week. How could he forget tonight?"

Josiah nodded and asked, "Why's he been doin' it all week? I thought the idea was to share it out?"

Chris threw up his arms. "How the hell should I know? He signed himself up for it." Well, honestly, Chris did know. It seemed that every time Ezra's mother showed up, he'd on the night patrol – for days afterward.

Maude certainly had a detrimental effect on their resident gambler. Larabee wasn't sure if working all night was Ezra's way of avoiding his mother in the saloons or if it was because he couldn't sleep. Either way, Larabee realized that it was Standish's way of dealing with her -- work all night -- catch a catnap or two during the day. Chris let Ezra do whatever he needed when Maude was involved.

Chris had a certain amount of admiration for the woman, but he just didn't like her very much. After those tumultuous days surrounding the appearance of Eli Joe, Chris' opinion of the woman went decidedly downhill.

Larabee had heard that Ezra had opened up a saloon. As soon as the Eli Joe business was finished, he'd fully intended to visit the Standish Tavern -- to rib Ezra about his business venture.

Chris had been rather excited about it, actually.

Hell, Chris had been pleased as punch when he'd heard that Ezra had bought property in Four Corners. Now, I got 'im, Chris had thought. There was finally something to hold that con man to this town. Chris wouldn't have to worry about Ezra finally wising up and realizing that there was no profit to be made in this dusty village. Won't have to keep thinking that any day now, that cardsharp would saunter on up to me and say that he was leaving for good. I got 'im.

Larabee had been shocked when he'd finally entered the building and found it under a new name and owned by Maude. Larabee knew that he never heard the full story about how Ezra lost the business so quickly and nobody seemed very excited to tell him anything. He did know that Maude had an awful lot to do with it -- but that there was more to it than just that.

Ezra rode night patrol for two weeks after that fiasco. Why are you still ridin' it this time, Ez? What did she do to you?

"Think we should find JD and go off toward the Widow Parker's?" Josiah asked, breaking Chris' thoughts.

Chris turned to the door, to the growing night and the rain. He stared out at the weather for a minute before he shook his head. "Makes no sense to go now, I 'spect. We'll go in the morning. If somethin' has happened to them we wouldn't be able to track them. Not in this weather."

Josiah nodded and said, "Brother, I'm sure nothing's wrong. Ezra probably saw the comin' rain and felt it best to stay put. You know that rain and he don't mix."

Chris nodded, and said nothing more.

Part 11:

Vin had found a stubby candle in one of the saddlebags and had used the light it provide light to check on Ezra. The bleeding seemed to be under control, but Ezra's pallor was evidence that he had lost a significant amount before Vin found him.

How much time had passed before Vin had been able to help him? Tanner hoped it hadn't been long. It bothered him to think of Ezra alone and hurting, not knowing if anyone was going to find him in the rain.

And all the time that Vin worked, Standish had been unconscious, cold and trembling.

Finally, finished with his ministrations, Vin pulled him close to him, until Ezra's back was against his chest. Vin pulled the blanket around both of them.

"Come on, pard, warm up," Vin muttered. And still Ezra shivered. Standish let out a soft groan. "S'okay, Ez," Vin said softly. "Everythin's gonna be all right."

Vin sighed, he hated this darkness, hated the closeness of this little alcove. He had snuffed out the light when he had finished with the bandages. The little candle wouldn't last long and he figured he had better be conservative with it. Besides, the flickering light only highlighted the overly close walls.

It was just so dang dark. If he concentrated on taking care of Ezra, the walls wouldn't move closer on him. If he kept his mind on trying to keep Standish alive, on getting him warmed up, the ceiling wouldn't come crashing down on them. Outside the rain continued to fall, a constant hiss above the ragged breathing. Vin wished the downpour would stop, but he realized there was little chance of it.

"Mr. Tanner?" he heard Ezra say quietly.

"Hey, Ez." Vin was so relieved to hear his voice again. "How ya doin'?"

"Mr. Tanner, please tell me that it's your gun that's pressing against my thigh," Ezra said suspiciously.

Vin released his grip and felt around until he found the mare's leg that had gotten jammed up between them. "Ezra, I like ya, but I don't like ya in that way," Vin said with a laugh as he moved the weapon out of the way. "Sorry 'bout that."

"That's a relief." Ezra sighed.

"Bet you were impressed though," Vin said with a light tone. Ezra responded with a noncommittal sound.

Vin eased him onto his back and asked, "Ya feelin' any better?"

There was a sigh and then, "I feel like hell."

"You want some water?" Vin asked, reaching for one of the canteens he was able to gather. He didn't wait for a response as he uncorked the container and found Ezra's head in the darkness. Ezra drank what he could and Vin settled him again and replaced the cork.

"How long have we been here?" Ezra asked.

"Dunno," Vin replied. "A few hours. It's dark."

"The rain continues unabated?"

"Yeah, rainin' still."

"I'm sorry, Vin."

"Why?"

"It's rather confined in here -- sorry to subject you to that. You probably would want to be anywhere but here at this moment."

Vin was silent for a moment. Dang it, Ezra, Vin thought, why are you worrin' about my problems? "It's not so bad," Vin said once he was able. "I got good company at least."

Ezra laughed, but stopped abruptly at the pain it caused. He must have been bruised up pretty bad under his clothing.

"You okay?" Damn, Vin wished he could do something, but he had nothing that could help. Again, he wished he had some decent medical supplies. Even if he had gone in search of Nathan, he couldn't have been sure of the healer's whereabouts. Did Nathan stay at the Parker's for the night or did he forge onward to Four Corners. Hell, even if he did shove Ezra out of the cave and abandoned him here while he went in search of help, Vin wouldn't know for certain which way to turn. Of course he could always just break into the clinic and take what he wanted if he made it to Four Corners.

"Profit and loss, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said quietly.

"What?"

"Life, it's all about profit and loss -- black and red. Line it up in little columns and check your results."

"What are you talking about?"

Ezra sighed. "No matter how hard I try, I always seem to end up in the red." He was silent for a moment and then said, "Everything I do, fails."

"Ezra, you know that ain't true."

"Consider the current circumstances."

Vin thought quickly. "This ain't a failing, Ez. I found you and we're both alive. We're together. That ain't no failing."

Ezra laughed quietly. "If this is success, then perhaps you have a point."

"'Course it's a success. I'm gonna see to you and you're gonna make it through this just fine," Vin said adamantly. "You're getting better right along," Vin added. "I'll getcha back to town and everything will be just fine."

"Everything?"

"Yeah, sure," Vin assured. "You can bet on it."

Ezra sighed again, remembering. "Not a wise wager. I'm a poor investment."

"Now that's bullshit," Vin said abruptly.

"Consider my record. For all of my winnings, I have nothing to show for it."

"You got lots to show," Vin said, trying to think of something to use as an example.

"Gone, gone, all gone," Ezra sighed quietly. His voice seemed to be losing its strength again. "Gone to better cheaters and to a wasted endeavor."

"What endeavor?" Vin asked, sounding out the word carefully to make sure he said it right. He placed his hand on Ezra's head as he spoke, noting that Standish really didn't seem quite so cold anymore.

"The Standish Tavern..." Ezra mumbled.

Vin sighed. He had known nothing about Ezra's business venture until weeks after it was all said and done. Tanner had been combing through the town's trash heap, looking for firewood, when he came across a splintered piece of a sign. After a little rooting around, he had found enough of the sign to complete it and recognized the configuration of letters..."The Standish Tavern."

Vin had gone to JD, asking him for some explanation, and the kid had given him a sketchy tale about the war that had gone on between Ezra and his mother while Vin had been otherwise occupied.

"I'm dreadful sorry about that, Ezra. If I'd known you'd got yerself a saloon, I would've been the first one in the door. I just didn't know at the time. I would've..."

"No need," Ezra cut in. "It's unimportant. The dream of one hardly holds a candle to your very life, Mr. Tanner..." again Ezra's voice faded away and Vin realized that Standish had given up his fight with unconsciousness.

Tanner took a moment, listening to Ezra's breathing, thinking about what had been said. "Dreams can be pretty damn important, pard," Vin stated quietly.

Part 12:

Dean and Pete continued moving through the falling rain. They had found the little snot's horse. The fat grey was collapsed on the ground, twisting its head up to gaze at them with crazy eyes. It gasped and attempted to gain its feet, but failed. They knew that the kid couldn't be far away, but the darkness and the cloak of rain ruined their ability to find him quickly. They found a small group of trees not far from the boy's horse and headed toward them, hoping to find some shelter.

It was a pity to lose Phonse. He had been a good foreman. The leg wound had apparently been more serious than expected. They should have left him back at Kotter's Ridge, but there you go. Sometimes you make mistakes.

Kotter's Ridge had been a mistake. They'd planned to use it as a perfect place to ambush Jake Riley. It had worked too -- except that the man in the plum jacket had ambushed them in turn. Lost three good men – no, four now when you count Phonse.

Some little snot-nosed kid and that man in the plum jacket ruined the whole plan. What did Pete say his name was? Standish? Pete said that he was a gambler from Four Corners. Well, Standish, Dean thought, you've already paid for your part in this fiasco. You're dead by now. Too bad I couldn't 'ave hung around and made it a bit more miserable for you. You cost me plenty.

The boy would be next.

What the hell was that gambler doin' out here anyway? Was someone running a poker game in the middle of nowhere? Why else would that cardsharp be there? It's all they're interested in, isn't it? A quick dollar -- a rich pot. Well, it made no matter.

The boy wouldn't be able to get far. Darkness was falling. He didn't know his way around these parts, lost his horse, was probably running in circles by now. They'd find him in the morning.
Get the ledger back.

Then everything would be right in the world again.

Part 13:

"Vin? ... Vin?"

Vin jerked awake, trying to figure out how long he had been hearing his name softly repeated over and over again. "Ezra? You okay? Damn it, I'm sorry. I just drifted off." He had been trying to stay awake in that dark little space, but Ezra had left him in the stillness and the black. The droning sound of the falling rain had lulled him to sleep against his will.

"I can't get out," Ezra said quietly, frustrated. Vin could hear him moving about, and gasping at the pain his small movements brought on.

Vin quickly found Standish in the darkness, grabbing onto his shoulders. "Keep still, would ya?" His hands quickly registered how warm Ezra had become. "Ah, Ez, you're burnin' up."

"Can't get out of the blanket!" Ezra continued to thrash about, unable to free himself. "Too hot in here. Got to get out."

"Keep still. You got yourself a fever. Just keep still," Vin said worriedly, as Ezra groaned in his attempts to free himself. "You're just gonna hurt yourself! Stop movin' about like a crazy man!"

"Hot. Too hot," Ezra sighed and stopped his struggling. "Help me, Vin. I'm so hot."

Vin searched for the ends of the blanket, but Ezra had managed to tangle himself into it rather sufficiently. "Damn it, Ezra," Vin said in frustration, trying to find a way to remove the blanket without hurting him any further. The little alcove was like an oven now and Vin could feel himself start to sweat. The heat and the frustration of the situation was getting to him. "Why'd you go and get yerself all knotted up in this? How am I gonna get you out? Why can't you just keep still?" he demanded.

"Sorry," Ezra replied sadly. "I'm just so hot."

Vin sighed, finally finding an end to the blanket and pulling it back. "Not your fault, Ez, I'm just -- I'm just mad is all."

"Thank you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said evenly as Vin was finally able to pull the cover free.

Vin leaned across Ezra and pulled the covering away from the cave opening. The cool night air rushed in.

"Raining still," Ezra said, turning his head to the night.

"Yeah, ain't let up yet," Vin replied. He glared out at the falling rain. If the rain would just stop -- he could go. He shook his head, realizing that he was just kidding himself. He couldn't leave Ezra.

Vin poured some of their water out onto a cloth and used it to wipe down Ezra's hot face. Why did Ezra have to get a fever now? This was the last thing they needed.

The little alcove cooled quickly and Vin shoved the blanket back into the hole. "Sun'll be up soon. We'll getcha some help come mornin'," Vin promised. If it were clear and light, Vin realized that he could leave Ezra behind. But only if it were clear. If it were raining still, then, well -- Vin would have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

But he would have to leave -- eventually. There was no material for building a travois and Ezra wouldn't be able to sit in the saddle, and was too hurt to be just be slung over the back of a horse. Nobody would come to look for them at Kotter's Ridge. The best bet would be to leave him and come back for help, but only if it were clear and light.

Part 14:

Marv huddled down in the sparse trees and tried to sleep, but the rain continued to fall on him. He pulled his coat up over his head and shuddered. He wasn't going to get far without a horse, without knowing where to go. Mr. Hunger was still out there. He was so scared.

The boy whimpered and tried to roll himself into a ball. He had taken up the job at the Lazy G Ranch on a whim. He'd been tired of farming. The youngest of five children, he had no chance of inheriting anything, so he'd gone to seek his fortune. The Lazy G had given him a job mucking out the stables. He liked horses. It set well with him.

Marv rubbed his eyes thinking of Mr. Riley, the man who had hired him. Mr. Riley was a good man, letting him sleep in a little room above the stable. Marv got to eat for free and didn't have to pay any board. The money he made was all his -- free and clear. If he kept working there at the Lazy G, he'd make his fortune in no time. Maybe he could even be foreman like Karl someday.

Marv had looked up to Karl, had patterned his every move after that man. Reid used to joke about how Marv had become Karl's shadow. That'd burn the foreman. Karl would try to shoo Marv away -- send him off on petty jobs to get loose of him, but Marv could not be so easily swayed. It'd make Reid laugh like a maniac. Now they were both dead. Marv sobbed, his chest heaving, as he thought about that.

The boy clutched the ledger, blindly feeling its spine. Riley would talk on and on about this ledger -- how he'd wished he could get his hands on it. Riley'd sit there at the cookhouse sayin' "If I could only get that ledger, then I'd have all the proof I'd need. Put that Dean Hunger behind bars, that's for sure. Run that ranch of his out of business."

Mr. Riley and Mr. Hunger were enemies. Mr. Riley's eyes would narrow if you mentioned the Infinity or Mr. Hunger. He blamed Hunger for his losses, but he had no proof.

Then last night Reid and Karl had shown up, all fired up and flaunting that red-leather bound book. Marv remembered how Mr. Riley's eyes had gone wide. He'd almost looked frightened. Mr. Riley had said, "Do you have any idea what you've done?" and Karl and Reid looked like they'd been whupped.

Riley had taken the book then and looked through it and his face had gone all sweaty and he was scared. Something was wrong and Marv couldn't quite figure what it was. Mr. Riley kept thumbing through that book, sayin' "damn!" Then Riley must have thought a bit, because he'd smiled and said how they'd better get it to town. Between Riley and Karl, they decided to go to Four Corners since they had those seven lawmen and Riley was expecting trouble.

"Oh shoot...oh shoot..." Marv mumbled as he ducked his head into his collar. Riley had no idea just how much trouble there'd be.

Part 15:

The rain let up at dawn. The early morning light was enough to guide the three men who headed out from Four Corners toward the Widow Parker's home.

JD trotted his horse up alongside Chris' and asked, "What do ya think's gone on?" He pulled one of his Colt's and checked it.

"Can't say for certain, but you can bet somethin's up," Larabee replied.

"I'm thinkin' that it looked like it was gonna rain so Ezra just stayed put," JD said as he twirled the weapon before holstering it. "You know how he hates gettin' rained on."

"True, JD," Josiah agreed. "It would be rather like him to want to stay out of the weather. I'm sure nothing's wrong."

JD nodded. "I bet we're gonna show up there, and Buck and the others will just make us work on that roof. I bet it's all just a scam to get us to help 'em out."

Josiah grinned at the young man. "Think that Ezra was the one that cooked this one up?"

"Oh yeah," JD said with a laugh. "I bet they're all in that ol' house laughin' right now, knowin' what's goin' on. We're gonna be stuck on that roof all day long, Josiah!"

Chris just nodded as the two talked. Four of his men were missing. Three of them had made no promise to be back by nightfall, but the fact that one of them hadn't fulfilled his duty meant that all of them could be in danger. What had happened to them?

Chris certainly hoped that JD and Josiah were right, that he'd find Ezra grinning at them at the Parker house. The gambler would certainly have a good explanation for missing out on his shift. He'd probably say that there was hardly a need for patrol with the rain and all -- that no miscreant with any intelligence whatsoever would have been out in the weather.

It would make sense. Yes, he could easily imagine Ezra looking out at the coming storm and deciding not to chance it. Yes, Ezra could come up with a reason for staying. That was it. No outlaw with half-a-brain would've been out in the weather last night.

Of course, Chris had known far too many outlaws with far less than half the allotted brainpower.
That was it. Ezra probably didn't want to ride the patrol in the rain. It made perfect sense. Chris sat forward in his saddle at the thought. There'd be hell to pay when Larabee caught up with him.

Part 16:

"Ready?" Vin asked.

"As I'll ever be," Ezra replied and then gave Vin a reassuring smile. The tracker had removed the blanket that was blocking the hole, and the early morning light streamed into their hiding place. The rain had stopped and the air had that moist freshness to it.

Ezra was still hot with fever, complaining that every inch of his body ached, weak and sick from losing too much blood. He needed help, and needed it fast.

"Let me do the work, okay?" Vin said. "I'm just gonna push you on out ahead of me. There's a drop-off that we gotta worry about, but I'll keep a hand on you. Just be ready for that, okay?"

Ezra nodded and Vin did his best to get his arms under the man, trying to make this process as simple as possible. Still, Standish's breath quickened as Vin started moving him out of the small cave.

There was just no way to do it easily. He tried to keep a good grip on Ezra, but once he reached the lip of the cavern, Tanner couldn't hold on, and Ezra ended up rolling out of his grasp and landed with a pain-filled cry outside.

"Shit!" Vin exclaimed. "Ez, you okay?" There was no response. Vin had wedged his feet into the back recesses of the cave to get better leverage and it took him several seconds to reposition himself so that he could exit.

His head had just reached the opening when something moved at him, a blur of brown and flashing white. Vin lurched back into the cave, just missing the snapping teeth of the enraged horse. He flung himself further back, somehow managing to keep from hitting his head as the horse lunged at him again.

"Damn it, Chaucer!" Vin yelled, trying to move far enough away to avoid the head that followed him. The teeth snapped again, almost catching his sleeve. The whites of the horse's eyes shown plainly as it tried to reach him. It lunged again, straining its neck to reach the retreating tracker, and then withdrawing, as if trying to plot a strategy.

The animal minced about, its hooves just missing its owner.

"Stop it, Chaucer! Stop it! Damn you!" Vin shouted as the horse continued to try and force its way through the uncompromising hole. It raised one of its legs and pawed at the opening, its iron shoe clattering and sparking against the stone in its attempt to get at him. Chaucer's ears were flattened back and teeth were bared.

"I didn't do it! I didn't hurt 'im. Damn it, you stupid horse!" Vin yelled. He had reached the rear of the cave, his hand landing on his rifle. Vin realized that his heart was racing, that the horse's sudden attack had scared him half to death. And now, that over-protective creature was keeping him from helping Ezra, who was laying somewhere just outside the cave.

The horse had withdrawn its head from the cave and was looking downward, nickering and stepping about worriedly. Vin could see his own horse, Peso, standing some distance away, watching the proceedings with interest.

"Peso," Vin growled. "Can't ya tell 'im that I'm only trying to help?"

Peso just looked at him blankly and then backed away. The tracker's horse didn't want to be anywhere near the over-excited chestnut. He wasn't an idiot.

"Peso! You stupid, good-for-nothin', son-of-a ..." At the sound of his raised voice, Chaucer whinnied angrily and again tried to assault the cave with his hooves. Finding only resistance, the horse stopped and paced nervously back and forth at the cave's opening.

Damn it, that horse was gonna step on Ezra any moment now.

"Ezra! Ezra!" Vin shouted, hoping that the man was capable of hearing. "Calm down your horse!" The horse whinnied (sounding more like a growl than a horse should), snorted and glared at him again. The horse would kill him if it could get at him. And damn it, one false step from the enraged animal would be the end to Standish.

Ezra hadn't respond and Vin realized that he was on his own. His hand wrapped around the rifle as he edged his way back toward the mouth of the cave. Crap, he didn't want to do this, but if Chaucer wasn't going to let him out, he didn't have a choice. He didn't have the time to screw around, because he had no idea what shape Ezra was in at that moment.

Vin ran his hand along the cold metal of the weapon as he watched the horse pace about, looking downward, but jerking its head up every few seconds to keep a furious eye on Vin.

"What am I supposed to do?" Vin asked softly, watching the horse's ears twitch at the sound. "He'll kill me when he finds out, but what am I supposed to do? I can't just leave 'im out there like that. He's hurt. I gotta help 'im and you're not lettin' me. Don't cha understand? He's hurt real bad and I need to help 'im." Tanner kept his voice low, noting that the horse hadn't returned to his attack.

Chaucer peered in at him again, pivoting his eyes and whickering. Vin recalled that Ezra didn't use shouted commands; Ezra always spoke quietly to the horse, like a gentleman.

"Don't cha see? You gotta believe me. I wouldn't hurt 'im. It wasn't me that did it," Vin said, keeping his voice low. The horse continued to block the exit to the cave, watching the tracker suspiciously.

"It's me -- Vin," Vin said hopefully, "Or Mr. Tanner or whatever the hell he wants to call me. You know me, don't cha boy? You know I wouldn't hurt 'im. We're friends -- him and me. I wanna help 'im." Vin dragged the gun behind him, keeping it hidden from the horse that wouldn't move out of the way.

Don't make me shoot you, he thought. Oh God, don't make me shoot you. What'll he do when he finds out? He loves you, ya damn fool horse. Don't make me do it. The horse hadn't made any further aggressive moves, rather, he watched Vin with an unsure look.

Vin drew a deep breath. Keeping one hand on the rifle, he extended the other. Have to trust 'im, Vin thought. Have to show 'im that I trust 'im. Chaucer's head lurched away from the moving hand and then shot forward. Vin almost drew the weapon on the animal, but the horse just sniffed at his hand and snorted.

"See, it's me -- Vin. You know me," Vin said quietly. "Now let me outta here and I'll take care of your man, okay?"

Apparently satisfied, Chaucer kept still, and Vin moved as quickly as he could to escape from the cave and to get to Ezra.

Ezra had landed on his left side, and was lying unmoving beside the horse.

Vin immediately rolled Ezra onto his back. He felt along the hastily splinted arm, bringing a sharp groan out of his friend, but nothing else.

Vin looked worriedly at Chaucer who hovered over him. He was glad to see that the animosity had faded from the animal. Vin took a moment to give the loyal horse a pat on the leg, then looked over at Peso. How had the two horses found their way into the Ridge? He and Ezra had left them on the outside, far from any route that a horse could have used to enter it.

He smiled, realizing the horses had stayed together. He was glad of that. He tried to imagine the two making their way around the Ridge, trying to find their way in, working together, knowing that their owners were somewhere inside.

"Don't worry," Vin said, checking the bandages to ensure that the wounds hadn't started bleeding again. Ezra was still far too warm. "He'll be fine." Vin didn't know if he was talking to the horse or to himself. "Yeah, he's gonna be just fine." Lost too much blood, got a fever, shot, stabbed, broken arm, knocked on the head, bruised all over. Yeah, he'll be fine.

Vin pulled a blanket from the cave and folded it up and placed it under Ezra's head.

He started muttering again.

Damn it, he was hot. Vin would do anything to get his hands on some of Nathan's willow bark tea right now. The other blanket was tucked around Ezra.

"Ez, can you hear me?" Vin asked.

Ezra's eyes opened narrowly. "Vin? What's happened?"

"Your horse just 'bout killed me, that's what happened," Vin explained as he tried to get Ezra comfortable.

"You just don't understand him," Ezra said softly and then closed his eyes again.

"I think I understand 'im better than you think. That horse would walk through fire for you," Vin replied and then sighed when he saw Ezra's face had gone lax again. "Ez? Come on, wake up," Vin pleaded, but received no response.

Tanner sat back on his heels and sighed. The rain had stopped, but not for long. The coming clouds promised more of the same. He would have to get Ezra back to town before the precipitation started up again. Precipitation...precipitation... he rolled the word about in his head.

If there were any trees around, he could build a travois, but the area was barren -- no foliage, verdant or otherwise. He needed a wagon, something, anything, but there was nothing here to help. He could try riding double with Ezra, back to town...but he was in bad shape.

"I gotta go, Ezra," Vin said quietly. "I need to get help. I need to get something to move you, okay?" The gambler gave no sign that he had heard. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I swear it." He grasped hold of Ezra's right hand. "Can you hear me? Do you understand? I'm coming right back. Just as soon as I can."

Hell, Vin thought. He's so damn pale. Vin wished he could stay, wished he could be in two places at once. Right now, he needed to find a way to transport the wounded man, and he wouldn't find it here.

He whistled and Peso quickly trotted up to him. Vin checked the saddle and tightened the cinch before he mounted. He turned back toward Ezra, lying still on the stony floor of the Ridge -- among the bodies of those that had died there. God, he looked so alone and helpless.

Chaucer gave Vin a bewildered look. Was the horse actually upset that he was leaving? That horse that wanted his blood a minute ago? Chaucer nickered and took a few steps toward him, craning his neck.

"Take care of 'im, Chauce," Vin said, knowing from experience that the horse would do just that. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He turned in the saddle and kicked his heels against Peso and the horse took off. Vin didn't look back, knowing that if he did he would probably have to stay.

Part 17:

Marvin slept. The hard ride with Mr. Riley and the others, the terrible strain of seeing them all die -- of being shot at -- and then the escape from Mr. Hunger's crew had worn him out. The boy had shoved the ledger underneath him and fell into a deep sleep.

Marv dreamed of a different time and place. He dreamed of the farm where he grew up, before he had to worry about such things as feeding himself and caring about his future. Everything was fine back then. There was never a reason to worry. His parents loved him, and his older brothers were always looking out for him. His older sisters treated him like their special pet. He remembered them and tears formed in his eyes, wishing he were back with them.

He dreamed of a time when he had never heard of the Lazy G or the Split Infinity or any damn ledger. He tightened his hold on the red book.

If he could have just stayed home, none of this would have happened to him. There was always plenty of work to do on the farm, and always something to eat. He'd never go hungry there. Even though his older brothers had first crack at inheriting the land, Marv was sure that someone would keep him on, for a while at least. They would have taken care of him.

His mother had cried buckets when he told them he was leaving. His father had looked at him with those deep brown eyes of his and silently wished him well. His sister Tabby had hugged him and shoved cookies into his pockets. His brother Max pulled him aside and told him, "Don't be stupid now, boy. You come on home now if you get the need to."

I'm jus' not cut out for this kind've life, Marv thought. A soul like mine jus' don't take to bein' shot at. I wish Mr. Riley had never asked me if I wanted to come 'long. It would'a been better if one of the other guys went. Maybe Lester or Charlie or Paul -- and they could be here instead of me. They're older and smarter. They would've known what to do.

It would'a been better if I just stayed put and mucked out after the horses.

Marv turned restlessly in his shallow hiding place. He didn't even hear the sound of the approaching horses, or hear the voices. It wasn't until the gun was cocked that he came suddenly awake. He wasn't even fully sitting up when the bullet struck him in the head.

Part 18:

"What you think happened to 'im?" JD asked, squatting beside the body.

Josiah carefully looked the man over. He had a blood-soaked cloth around his leg. It wasn't difficult to discern how the man had died. The question was why. "Shot through the leg," Josiah said. "Looks like he was bled dry." A dead horse was visible some distance away, laying on its side.

Chris stood above the two, glowering at the scene. A dead man, in the middle of nowhere. No, not nowhere. A dead man here, not far from the path that Ezra, Nathan, Vin and Buck should have been traveling along. What the hell happened to them?

Damn it, Chris thought, we should've left last night. Rain or no rain, we should've gone then. Chris lowered his head. Buck and Vin and Nathan and Ezra -- where the hell were they?

"I think his name is Phoenix or Fonie or Phonse or somethin' weird like that," JD said. "Seen 'im 'round town a time or two. I think he works a ranch somewhere to the east -- foreman, maybe. I think he..." JD stopped short at the sound of a single gunshot. They all turned toward the report and listened for a moment.

"Chris?" Josiah questioned.

Larabee fixed his jaw and quickly mounted his horse. He didn't even wait for the other two to follow suit before he headed off, past a dead horse, in the direction of the gunfire.

Part 19:

Buck turned when he heard the shot fired and looked toward the stand of trees in the distance.
Nathan halted his horse beside Wilmington and asked, "Think it's trouble?" The two had left the Parker residence early that morning. The roof had held up under the night's heavy rain and Buck had decided that it would be best if they lit off for home before the rain returned.

Buck sighed as he looked toward the trees. It was probably just someone out hunting jackrabbits. He really wanted to get back to Four Corners, and the fact that something was now standing in his way was rather – well, irritating.

It was only one shot. Probably nothing, but then again...

"Yeah, better go check it," Wilmington said, turning his horse toward the stand.

They were more than halfway there when they spotted three men on horses headed toward the same goal. Buck squinted across the distance and smiled. "Hey, it looks like Chris -- and Josiah and JD, too."

Nathan frowned. "What you think they're doin' out here?"

Buck shrugged. "Can't say I know, but it looks like they're headed the same place as us. 'Spect we can ask 'em when we get there."

The two brought their horses to a quicker gait, and noticed the others doing the same. They converged on the stand at almost the same time. Buck was about to shout to Chris when a man with graying-black hair stepped out of the trees.

"Help me!" the man said. "They shot 'im!"

Chris looked first to Buck and Nathan before he dismounted. "Who's shot?"

"The boy!" The man insisted. "They got the boy!"

Nathan quickly climbed down from his horse and grabbed his bag. He hurried after the man and found a second man -- tall and lean -- standing over a boy. The kid couldn't have been any older than thirteen. The man was pressing a cloth against the boy's head and looking nervously at the newcomers.

"Got shot in the head," the second man said matter-of-factly.

Nathan knelt down beside the boy and took over for the second man who stood quickly, rubbing his hands on his pants.

"He gonna be all right, Nate?" Chris asked.

Nathan nodded slowly as he examined the wound. "Could be. Looks like he just got scalped a bit. Never know with head wounds."

Chris looked up at the two men, who hovered nearby. "What's his name?"

"Bobby," the older man replied quickly.

"Gonna be alright, Bobby," Chris said to the unconscious boy. "Just hang in there." He then turned to the two men. "I'm Chris Larabee," Chris said and nodded to the others. "That's Nathan Jackson and over there is JD, Buck and Josiah. Nathan's a damn fine healer, he'll take care of your boy."

The older man nodded, and realized that an introduction was in order. "Hunger," he said, "Dean Hunger. That's Pete Cummings."

"Who shot 'im?" Chris asked, looking between the two men.

The man with the graying hair pointed northward. "Came from over there."

"How many?" Chris asked.

"Two, I think..." Dean said and then nodded as if he had come to a decision. "Took off on a their horses."

Probably one was the man they'd found – and the horse.

Chris nodded toward Buck and JD, and the two went for their horses without another word. Chris squatted beside Nathan as the healer pulled supplies out of his bag. The wound looked bloody, but not deep.

"What're you all doin' out here?" Chris asked.

"Checkin' on the stock," Hunger replied.

"Isn't this the old Vaughn spread?" Josiah asked.

Hunger shrugged. "Open territory. Nobody got any claim on it now."

Pete spoke up then. "Mr. Hunger, you think they were shootin' cause someone's upset about the cattle?"

Hunger nodded. "I 'spect so. Damn shame a child has to suffer for it."

Nathan and Josiah both nodded in agreement. Chris watched Hunger and Cummings who continued to hover nervously over the boy.

"Where are Vin and Ezra?" Chris asked the healer, who stopped in his work and gave Chris a startled look.

Part 20:

Buck and JD headed off side-by-side in the direction indicated by Hunger, looking for any sign of the other man who had shot the boy. Buck thought it was strange that he hadn't seen anyone when they approached the area from the north. He and Nathan should have seen the shooter, but stranger things had happened. Hunger and Cummings did seem a little nervous, but who wouldn't be after one of their group had been shot in the head?

"Buck, hey, Buck," JD called across to him.

"What is it, Kid?" Buck asked, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of the attacker.

"We found a guy who'd been shot, back there a ways. Dead. Think it was one of the shooters?"

"Couldn't tell ya, JD," Buck replied, and furrowed his brow. A dead man and a kid that'd been shot in the head -- this didn't look good.

"Where's Ezra and Vin?" JD asked innocently.

Buck pulled to a stop and gave JD a steady look. "What do ya mean? They went home yesterday."

JD stopped and shook his head. "Nah, Buck, they never came home."

"Shit," Buck muttered, increasing his attempt to find the attacker. Someone was out here shooting at kids, had killed a man, now Vin and Ezra were missing. "Shit," he said again, not having any better word for it.

He swung his head around abruptly when he caught a movement -- a horseman. He squinted at the distant image for a second, and then he heard the sound of gunfire. The horseman was firing at them. Wilmington pulled his rifle from its scabbard and aimed. He'd be damned if he let this bastard get a shot in at him. He saw JD pull out his Colts.

Wilmington gazed down the sites of his rifle, aiming it at the approaching man, who held his rifle high -- a sawed off Winchester. What the hell? Buck lowered his weapon and gave JD a shove to ruin his aim. JD looked back at him in disbelief until Buck explained, "It's Vin!"

Vin came toward them at full gallop. "Nathan!" he shouted as he approached. "Where's Nathan!"

JD and Buck both pointed back toward the trees and Vin paused his horse beside them.

"What's goin' on, Vin?" JD asked.

"Ezra's in a bad way. Gotta get help," Vin said. "I was headed out here to get some wood together for a travois."

Buck asked quickly, "Ezra? Where?"

Vin nodded behind him. "Kotter's Ridge. Had to leave 'im alone. God, I hope he's alright. Had to go get help. Had to get somethin' I could carry 'im with. He's hurt too bad to get onto a horse."

"What happened?" Buck questioned.

"Shot, stabbed, got his arm broke, head hurt. Lost a lot of blood. Got a fierce fever."

"Damn, he don't do anything halfway," Buck declared. "You go on and get Nate. I'll see to 'im." And before anyone could speak another word, he drove his heels into his horse's sides and took off toward Kotter's Ridge.

Vin watched Buck's departure, grateful that Ezra wouldn't have to be alone for any longer than necessary, then turned toward the trees that the two had indicated and put his tired horse back in motion.

"Nate's lookin' after this boy that got shot in the head," JD explained, catching up to Vin.

"A boy?" Vin slowed looking over to JD. "This boy didn't have some sort of a ledger, did he?"

JD frowned. "I didn't see no ledger. The men who were with 'im said that the guy who shot him was out here somewhere so we'd better look sharp."

Vin drew to a full stop. "Were these men from the Split Infinity?"

JD smiled. "How'd you know? One of 'em's Mr. Hunger himself."

JD was surprised at the look that crossed the usually quiet and even-tempered tracker. Vin looked like he was set to kill. The tracker took off as quickly as his winded horse would allow and JD followed close behind toward the small stand of trees.

Part 21:

Ezra stared up at the clouded sky and tried to figure out what had gone wrong. He hurt so badly and felt so hot and miserable. He couldn't quite fathom why.

He thought he heard Chaucer snorting, but couldn't see him -- just the slate-colored clouds covering the sky above him.

He blinked and tried to turn over, but a blackness came over him at the attempt and he found himself laying on his back again looking at the clouds.

He remembered the shootout and then -- and then wasn't Vin here? He seemed to remember Vin. Where had Vin gone? He sighed. God, he felt so tired, so hot. And pain, there was pain, too. Why did he hurt so badly?

The sky was just a mass of gray. He watched the sky, looking for something that he might recognize. Sometimes he would see figures in the clouds: fish and rabbits and bear and once a locomotive -- from engine to caboose with smoke trailing behind it. This time there was nothing -- just the formless clouds -- a sheet of gray above him. Gray and gray -- nothing but gray.

"Vin?" he called tentatively. He heard Chaucer again. Was he alone? No one responded. Of course he was alone.

His vision began to darken around the edges. Was it night already? Dimmer and dimmer still, black encroaching on the gray. "Vin?" Ezra called again. And still it grew dimmer.

Part 22:

Nathan told Chris and Josiah what he knew about the two missing members as he worked on the boy, that they had left the previous evening -- about an hour apart. "Neither of 'em made it home?" Nathan asked incredulously.

"No," Chris answered curtly as he paced within the cover of the trees. Larabee look at the wounded boy and then at Hunger and Cummings. The two men were as nervous as cats. Why would someone be taking pot shots at kids? What the hell was going on? Where were Ezra and Vin? What could have happened to them?

"He gonna wake up?" Cummings asked.

Nate nodded. "Should," he said. "It's not as bad as it looks."

Conversation stopped as two horses galloped into the area.

"Vin?" Chris called in surprise when the tracker appeared with JD coming up behind him.

Vin was off his horse and on Dean Hunger before anyone could say a thing. He landed one furious blow across the man's jaw, sending him to the ground. Josiah and Nathan were too stunned to move, as Dean struggled to get to his feet.

Pete went for his pistol and may have had a chance to use it if Chris hadn't answered his movements, drawing his own weapon.

"Wouldn't try it," Chris admonished. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew which side he stood on. If Vin saw fit to attack Dean Hunger, well, he must have had a pretty good reason for it.

Pete switched his attention from the man who had struck his boss to the man in black who currently was pointing a rather impressive looking gun at his heart.

Pete wisely dropped the weapon.

Vin jerked Dean to his feet and hit him again, sending the rancher to the ground once more. Hunger cried out and brought his hands to his nose. He squeezed on it as the blood flowed.

"Ya goddamn bastard," Vin shouted at the prone man, drawing his mare's leg and pointing it at Hunger. "Did it feel good to stab 'im when he was down?" Hunger looked back at Tanner with frightened eyes.

Josiah was finally in motion. He grabbed Vin by his shoulder and hauled him back. "Vin?" he cried, turning Tanner away from Hunger. "What're you doin'?"

Hunger released his hold on the broken nose and drew his gun, but had no chance to fire as Chris changed his aim and fired one well-placed shot between Hunger's legs. The rancher jerked and dropped the gun as if it were made of molten lead. He looked between Vin and Chris in terror.

JD was standing beside Larabee, both guns drawn -- aiming one at each of the men from the Split Infinity. He didn't know what was going on, but he was more than willing to back up his friends.

Vin shrugged out of Josiah's grip and turned to Nathan. "Nate, Ezra's in a bad way." He kicked at Hunger and said, "This son of a bitch shot 'im and stabbed 'im. Him and his friends done it. God, Nate, he's got a bad fever and his arm's broke and his head got hit. I had to leave 'im."

Nathan looked down at the boy who seemed to be resting well enough. He could do no more for the kid at this point. Jackson stood quickly and grabbed his bag. "Where?"

"Kotter's Ridge," Vin said, pointing the way. "Buck's already headed there. Nathan, you gotta hurry."

Nathan nodded and ran to the horses. Vin started to follow, but he stopped and turned back to Chris. "There's some sort of a ledger..."

Chris noted the response from the two men. Dean and Pete stiffened at Vin's words. It was all he needed. "So," Larabee said, leaning over Hunger as Josiah grabbed hold of Pete. "A ledger?"

"Ain't no such thing!" Pete shouted.

Dean did his best to regain some of his dignity. He brushed at the blood splatters on his shirt and said, "It ain't no business of yours."

Chris smiled, a cold dark smile. He glanced at the pallid boy and then his gaze followed Nathan as the healer departed toward Kotter's Ridge. Ezra shot -- in a bad way. And this man was to blame? Chris had no doubt that one of these men had shot that kid, too. Chris grabbed onto Hunger's already broken nose. "Oh, you can bet that ledger's become my business."

Part 23:

Buck slowed his horse as he entered Kotter's Ridge. He wasn't ready for the sight that greeted him. "Mother of God," he muttered, seeing the bodies strewn about in the confined area. He quickly spotted Chaucer and headed to him.

The chestnut nickered to him as he dismounted, stretching his neck and pawing at the earth. Wilmington made his way to the still form that lay protected by the animal.

"Ezra?" Buck called as he sank down beside his friend. God, he was so pale. Wilmington sighed in relief when he saw the man draw another breath. "Ezra?" he said again, gently shaking him.

Ezra's eyes opened, watery and distant. "Vin?" Ezra called softly, staring upward.

"It's me, Buck," Buck replied. "Vin sent me."

"Buck..." Ezra turned toward him, but didn't seem to focus on him.

"It's gonna be okay," Buck said reassuringly. "Nathan's gonna be here in a minute."

Ezra blinked at him. "Can we get out of the rain?"

Buck paused and then stated, "It ain't rainin', pard. Not yet at least."

Ezra squinted. "Feels like rain..." he said, his voice drifting off and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Ez, come on. Ez?" Buck said, laying his hand on Ezra's chest. "Stay with me, okay, hoss?" Dammit, he thought as Ezra failed to respond to him. "Just hang in there a bit. We're gonna get you some help. Nathan will be here quicker than you can imagine, then we'll getcha on home. You can rest up all you want in that big ol' feather bed of yours. He'll probably make you drink some of those awful potions of his, but I'll sneak something in for you -- maybe a little somethin' to take of the nasty edge to that stuff. Listen though, you gotta try and stay awake, okay?" Buck waited, but Ezra showed no sign of hearing him.

Buck sighed and tried to get comfortable on the hard rocky floor of Kotter's Ridge. "Don't you worry none, ol' Buck is here and he'll take care of you."

Nathan finally appeared. The healer looked about the Ridge in fascination. He hurried to where Buck was trying to cool down Ezra, with Chaucer standing patiently nearby.

"Nate," Buck said worriedly. "He was awake for a minute, but he hasn't stirred since then. He's got a hell of a fever." He sat back to let Nathan in. "He didn't seem to know what was goin' on either."

Nathan immediately came to the Ezra's side and started tending him. He was just finishing up when Vin and Chris appeared. Chris was riding double with the boy. Larabee was holding up the kid, but the young cowboy seemed to be at least somewhat conscious of what was going on, looking about himself and blinking stupidly.

Vin leapt down from his mount and ran the last few steps to where Nathan was hunched over Ezra. "He okay?"

Nathan sighed. "He's pretty out of it, Vin. Didn't stir at all as I tended 'im."

Vin's hopeful expression fell. "Ah, hell," he muttered. "So he thinks I just left 'im."

Buck clapped a hand on Vin's shoulder. "He was awake when I got here, pard. He knows I was here. I told 'im that you sent me."

Vin nodded and smiled his thanks to Buck.

"Nate -- how is he?" Chris asked, over the shoulder of the boy.

Nathan truthfully responded, "I don't know. He's got a pretty bad fever right now and lost a lot of blood. He's got a busted up arm and a concussion. Shot in the arm and knifed in the leg. Bruised up pretty bad. Must have fallen from a distance." He gazed upward at the steep walls of the canyon. "Vin did a good job."

The boy, who had been rather unaware up until that moment, suddenly snapped to attention. He cried out and tried to wrench himself out of Chris' grasp.

"Buck!" Chris called, trying to keep a handle on the injured boy, who was looking about in a panic, trying furiously to get away. Chris' horse, Job, pranced about, unsure of what was going on.

Buck ran to the mounted pair and grabbed hold of the boy before the kid was able to twist out of Chris' grasp. He brought him to the ground as gently as possible. When the boy gained his feet, he tried to run.

"Calm down, kid, calm down," Buck soothed as the boy thrashed about.

"No, no, no!" the boy moaned. "Run for it! Gotta run!"

"Bobby!" Chris shouted, stepping down beside the boy. "Bobby! It's okay! Calm down!"

Vin stood beside Ezra and looked first to the struggling boy and then to the carnage that was strewn about them.

"Shit, Chris," Vin said. "He was here when this happened." Tanner looked about at the dead bodies. The boy must have seen all of these men die, must have been among them. The kid must have been aimed at, and fired upon. "Dang it, get 'im out of here!"

Buck and Chris dragged the panicked boy a dozen yards away, to a stone that was large enough to hide behind. Once they forced the kid to the ground and held him still, the boy stopped his efforts to escape. Unable to see the dead men any longer, the fight went out of him and he became as placid and indifferent as he was before.

"Bobby?" Chris said, sitting next to the boy. "Bobby? You okay now?"

The boy continued to stare off into space, acting as if he didn't even recognize his own name.

Nathan was with them by then, sitting in front of the boy, checking his eyes and looking again at the head wound. "Concussion," Jackson concluded. "He should be all right with a little time. We'll just need to keep 'im calm."

Vin was sitting beside Ezra by the time Nathan went back to him, just talking quietly to the unconscious man. Tanner looked up at Nathan and said nothing as the healer returned to caring for Standish.

"We should get them out of here before the rain starts up again," Nathan said as he poured water into a cloth and used it to wipe down Ezra's pale face.

"I sent Josiah and JD back with the prisoner's. They'll bring a wagon," Chris responded. He pulled an oilcloth out of his saddlebag. "We can set up some sort of a lean-to in the meantime."

They built up a little tent around Ezra with the oilcloth and swaddled the boy in blankets as the rain began to fall again. Vin and Nathan sat beside Ezra, keeping an eye on him, while Buck stayed with the dazed boy. Chris paced between the two groups, waiting for the wagon to appear. He had decided to keep the injured parties separated due to the boy's earlier behavior. The last thing Larabee wanted was for that boy to start thrashing about and cause any further injury to Ezra.

Larabee stood above Buck and the kid, watching as Buck spoke soothingly to the boy. The young cowboy just stared vacantly into space. From time to time he would jerk as if stung, as if a fleeting thought suddenly reached him, but then he would be quiet again. Buck pulled at the blanket around the boy's head, trying to keep the rain off his face.

Buck looked up at Larabee and grinned half-heartedly, the rain running off the brim of his hat. "'Spect he'll be okay," Wilmington concluded. "It'd be good if we could get 'im outta here."

Larabee nodded. "Josiah and JD are coming," he declared. Then, satisfied that the boy was doing as well as could be expected, Chris retrieved a saddlebag from his horse and pressed his way into the tiny lean-to with the others.

Nathan and Vin, sitting shoulder to shoulder, nodded to him as Larabee found a dry patch near Ezra's feet.

"What happened, Vin?" Chris asked. "How the hell did he get so hurt?"

Vin shrugged. "Don't know much of the story. Just that Hunger and Cummings were shootin' at 'im."

"What was he doin' out here?" Chris asked sternly. "Doesn't he know better than to come to this place? What the hell was goin' on? Why was he alone?"

"Ah," Nathan began, seeing Vin looking at him. "It's kinda my fault, Chris."

Chris was surprised. "Tell me more, Nate."

Jackson dipped his head and turned his attention to Ezra. "I don't know why he came here, but I think I may have given him reason to leave when he did."

Chris watched the healer tend to their stricken member. He could see the concern and guilt that etched Jackson's face. Larabee asked, "What sort of reason you give 'im?"

"I said something that I shouldn't have," Jackson replied.

Chris nodded and glanced at the saddlebag, remembering why he had retrieved it. He pulled out a large but thin book, bound in red leather. Up until a short time ago, it has been stashed in Hunger's saddlebag, wrapped in a shirt. Hunger had lunged when the book had come clear of its hiding place. The movement had been reason enough for Vin to knock him to the ground again.

Larabee ran his hand over the tooled surface, noting the dark splotches where the kids' blood had been splattered on it. He glanced back to where the young cowboy was hiding behind the rocks with Buck. Chris had thumbed through the book briefly when he first laid hands on it, but there had been no time to do anything more than note that the book was a list of sums with some sort of foreign writing in it. At that moment, Larabee had no time to do anything more than to shove the book into his saddlebag before ensuring that JD and Josiah had the prisoners under control. He'd had other places where he needed to be.

The rain pattered on the waterproof cloth above them as he opened the book and gazed at the lines of numbers that filled it. Incomprehensible notations were written beside the numbers and odd notes were scribbled in the margins. The words made no sense at all. Was it another language? A code? He puzzled over the ledger, but could gain nothing from it beyond the fact that the Split Infinity was damn profitable.

It was an account of finances, obviously. He'd kept a ledger himself at one point. When he owned that ranch with Sarah and Adam, he had tracked expenses, but the Larabee ledger was all rather simple in comparison to this.

"So?" Nathan asked. "What's it all about? Why did all these people have to get hurt or killed for that thing?"

"Dunno, Nate," Chris said. "Can't make heads or tails of it." It would take someone who understood this sort of thing to tell him any more. He sighed and closed up the book and looked out at the rain.

Part 24:

Marvin watched as the room slowly came into focus. He was lying on a cot. There was a dark-skinned man sitting beside a bed. In the bed was a man, who was very pale and not moving. Marv watched the dark man tending the sick one. The sick one looked vaguely familiar, but Marv couldn't quite grasp why.

He turned his head and noticed a man in black clothing leaning against one wall and another man in buckskins sitting on a chair. The man in buckskins was talking, but the words seemed all watery and the boy couldn't quite put it all together. His head hurt something fierce. It felt like something had clocked him pretty hard. He moved his hand to try and figure out why his head hurt so much, and was surprised at how much effort the small movement took.

The man in black looked at him and said something. Marvin blinked at him, trying to clear his mind enough to understand.

"Bobby?" the man said. "Bobby? Are you awake?"

Bobby, Marvin thought. Who the heck is Bobby?

The man in black and the dark-skinned man were suddenly on either side of him. "Bobby?" the dark man said. "How you feelin'?"

Marv turned to the dark man and wondered where he was. The last thing he remembered.. the last thing...

Marvin clasped his hands against his stomach, feeling for that ledger. He had to have the ledger still! He felt around desperately beside him. Where the heck was it? He couldn't have lost it. Oh God, what if I lost it? The two men grabbed him and tried to hold still.

"Calm down, Bobby!" the man in black ordered. Again... Bobby...

"It's okay. It's okay," the dark man said soothingly.

The man in buckskins was beside him now and said, "We got those men from the Infinity, those men who shot you. We got that red book from 'em."

Marvin relaxed then and looked to the buckskin man and said, "I gotta get it to Four Corners."

The man in black smiled. "Well, you managed that. We're there now," he said.

Marvin sighed, hoping he could believe the man in black and then asked, "Who's Bobby?"

The three men exchanged worried glances until the one in black seemed to realize something. He nodded to the other two and said, "It was Hunger that gave us that name." He then looked down at the boy and asked, "What's your name, son?"

"Marvin Carter," Marv replied. The men introduced themselves to him, so Marv got to put names on those faces. Then they pointed at the man in the bed and gave him a name, too.

Marvin looked again at the sick man who was now named Ezra Standish and tried again to remember where he knew him from. "The man in the purple jacket..." he said finally. He looked back at the men who were standing over him. "If it weren't for 'im, I'd be dead right now. If he didn't show when he did, that ledger would be long gone and back in Mr. Hunger's safe, that's for sure."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Chris asked.

Marvin paused for a moment, wondering if he should tell these men anything. The man in the purple jacket was with them, so he figured they must be all right. "It was Reid and Karl that got the ledger. I don' t know how they done it but they did. Then Mr. Riley said that we should take it to Four Corners, 'cause they got those Seven lawmen there and it'd be safe." Marv paused for a moment and then continued, "So Mr. Riley said I could come and so I came. We rode off to Four Corners and then we come up on that place in the rocks."

Marv closed his eyes at the memory. "Mr. Riley was up in front and I was ridin' 'long side 'im. Mr. Riley was the first 'un to get shot, he was. They shot 'im in the face and...he just kinda lurched back, like.. like..." The boy went silent.

"Marvin?" Nathan said quietly, laying a hand on the kid's shoulder.

Marv nodded, trying to be strong. These were grown men who wouldn't put up with him acting like a baby. He continued, "Then Reid shouted, 'cause they got 'im, too. He jus' clutched at his gut and tried to hang on, but they shot down 'is horse. Then Karl came chargin' up at me and says, 'Run for it!' and so we did jus' that."

The boy opened his eyes and looked from one man to the other. "Then those men, they started shootin' like they was crazy and Karl and me tried to make it out." The boy raised his hand to touch his forehead and pulled it away, startled when he felt the bandage. "I ducked down, 'cause they was shootin' and I lost my hold. I... I fell off my horse." The boy covered his eyes with his hands. He couldn't let them see him cry. "I jus' fell off. I was so scared and Karl, he turned back to get me. He was turnin' back when they shot down his horse and then they got 'im, too."

"He was shot and layin' there and he says to me to lay still, like I was dead, and that's the last he said." The boy pulled away his hands and looked up to Vin. "And so I did and I lay still like a rabbit and they let me alone, but then Mr. Hunger said they was gonna check the saddlebags for the ledger and I knew if they looked in Karl's they'd have it. Mr. Riley had given it to 'im to carry 'cause he figgured it would be safer that way."

"Karl, he got 'imself killed 'cause of me and he was tryin' to get that ledger away from Mr. Hunger so I knows I had to do somethin' 'bout it. Nobody was lookin' so I figgured it was time to get it and that's when that man there showed up." Marvin nodded to Ezra and figured he shouldn't do that again 'cause it made his head feel like it was gonna split. "He made it so I could get away. All those men was shootin' at 'im and that one named Pete near 'bout got me I think. I saw Mr. Standish do what he could for me and it ended up him gettin' shot."

The boy paused for a moment and said, "I thought he was dead. I dinnent mean for 'im to get hurt. He gonna be all right?"

"We're just waiting for him to wake up now," Nathan said.

Marv blinked at the healer and asked, "Is he gonna wake up soon?"

Nathan smiled thinly. "We're just gonna have to wait a bit."

Chris squatted beside the bed so that he was eye level with the boy. "Tell me, Marvin, what's so damn important about that ledger. I showed it to a man at the bank and he couldn't understand it. The notes have to be the key."

Marv's face fell at the news. "I don't know," he said. "All I know is that Mr. Riley thought it was important. Mr. Riley and Karl and Reid -- they was goin' on about how it was enough to ruin Mr. Hunger. They was sayin' we gotta get it to a place where it'd be safe."

The boy sighed. "They're all dead now, dead -- all dead. I don't know nuthin' 'bout that book 'cept that it would explain everythin' 'bout Mr. Hunger." He looked to each of them in succession. "You gotta be able to know what it says. Mr. Riley said to bring it to Four Corners 'cause those Seven men they got would keep it safe."

"It's got some kinda code in it," Chris explained. "Can you think of anyone who would know how to read it?"

Marv shook his head, and again remembered not to move his head. "I don't even think that Mr. Riley could. He just knew that Mr. Hunger put it all down in there. Mr. Riley kep' sayin' that it was all down in there."

Chris glowered in frustration and the boy sunk down in the cot, trying to get some distance from the man in black -- even if it was only a few inches.

Larabee spoke again, "Do you know what Hunger was putting down in there? Your boss must have had some idea."

"I don't know. Maybe somethin' about some missing cattle, but I don't know no more," Marvin said, his lip trembling. His ran his hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide this weakness, but he was about ready to cry again. "Why can't you read it? Mr. Riley and Karl and Reid were good men. Can't ya see what a waste it'd be if they just died for nothin'? And me and him gettin' hurt, too," Marv said, pointing to Ezra. "You can't tell me that it was all for nuthin'."

Part 25:

Chris picked up the leather-bound book and slammed it again on the desk, then stalked back toward the cells that held Dean Hunger and Pete Cummings. Cummings looked frightened. Hunger, his eyes swollen and his nose taped up and red, stared back at him smugly. This was not the first time Larabee had tried this approach with these men, but Chris figured that they might be more cooperative after a day in jail.

"You're going to explain what kinda code you got written in there, and you're going to explain it to me now," Chris demanded as he approached Hunger's cell.

Dean just smiled, keeping a few steps back from the bars and the furious man beyond them. "It's just a ledger -- a list of sums. I'd like it back so that I can return to running my ranch."

Chris smiled darkly. "I don't think so. The judge is on his way at this moment. You're going to be tried for the murders of Jake Riley, Reid Manson and Karl Hoffman, and the attempted murders of a child -- Marvin Carter -- and of lawman Ezra Standish."

Hunger just smiled. "You take the word of an addle-pated boy over mine? He can't even see straight. How's he supposed to be able to get the story right? I'm a well-respected businessman in my area. Those men from the Lazy G stole from me." Hunger shrugged. "I didn't shoot that boy. I already told you what I witnessed. Someone shot him and rode off to the north. A dispute over grazing rights, no doubt. Your men didn't bother to track down the shooter. Riley, Manson and Hoffman tried to ambush ME in Kotter's Ridge. I was fighting for my very life against them. It was purely self-defense. And that lawman of yours didn't know what the hell he was doin'. He showed up too late to know what was goin' on and attacked innocent citizens. He should be put on trial for the murder of four of my men. He's a firebrand. He should hang for what he done."

Hunger saw the anger flare in Larabee's eyes and unconsciously took a step backward.

"The keys, Josiah," Chris growled to the huge man who was sitting behind the desk. "Give me the goddamn keys."

"Chris," Josiah said calmly but it was not difficult for the prisoners to see the anger in his face as well. "We had best keep these men in one piece until Judge Travis arrives. We can't add to the bruises that our brother Vin already inflicted."

Chris didn't move, but rather stared back at Hunger. Hunger returned the gaze evenly, smiling at the realization that Larabee couldn't prove his case.

Chris grabbed the book from the desk and took a moment to give the inhabitants of the cell one more deadly glare before leaving the jail and heading back toward the clinic.

He hated the fact that Hunger was right. Although he knew, without a doubt, that Hunger's version was wrong in every sense, Chris realized that convincing a jury of that would not be easy. The only witness was a boy with a head injury -- and the kid didn't seem to know much of anything. Even Marvin agreed that Ezra had arrived too late to the scene to witness the original attack.

Getting Hunger to decode the ledger would be a trick. The bank manager had gone through the book, but had found nothing unusual outside of the coded notes. The ranch was profitable, that was the only thing that was obvious. What Chris needed was someone who understood underhanded dealings and sleight of hand.

Chris clutched the ledger with a feeling of repugnance. The damn thing had caused the deaths of seven men, had injured that boy and.... Chris quickened his step.

He continued up the stairs to Nathan's clinic, hoping for better news today. Ezra hadn't stirred once since Buck's brief conversation with him. That had been almost two days ago. They all kept a close watch on Standish, hoping that he came around soon. The healer had been able to stop the infection that had set in. The fever had finally broken, but the blood loss had taken its toll. Ezra just refused to awaken.

Chris opened the door to the clinic and wasn't surprised to find both Buck and Vin with Ezra. The two of them had hardly left the him since their arrival back in town. They all took turns keeping an eye on Ezra, but Vin and Buck seemed to spend more time in the clinic than any of the others.

"Where's Nate?" Chris asked, tossing the hated ledger onto a table.

"Stepped out for a bit," Vin said. "I think he went to check on Marv." The boy had been moved out of the clinic when it was apparent that he only needed rest, and had been installed in the boarding house.

Chris grabbed a chair and pulled it up beside Vin's. Tanner and Wilmington were seated on either side of the bed, keeping an eye on the unmoving inhabitant. "Any change?"

"Sleepin' still," Vin replied. "Nate said that if he don't wake soon, it'll be trouble. He's gotta have somethin' to drink. With all that blood he lost, he's just gonna dry up if we don't get some water in 'im."

Chris sighed at the irony of it. They had found Ezra and brought him home. Nathan had patched him up as good as new, took care of the infection, bound up the broken bones. The fever had raged but eventually left him. Ezra was essentially, fine, but too weak to awaken. And if he didn't wake soon, then there'd be no hope for him.

"We were just talkin' to him a bit," Buck said. "I was thinkin' that maybe he'd have somethin' to add to the conversation and come on out and say it."

The three men sat silently, watching the fourth breathe slowly. Damn, Chris thought, Ezra was still so terribly pale. Larabee had seen the extent of the injuries, had heard Vin's take on what had happened -- how Hunger had stabbed Ezra in the leg while he was already down and helpless.
Son of a bitch. Larabee wished he had aimed for flesh instead of dirt when he took that shot at Hunger.

Chris glanced over at the ledger on the table and he growled, "If this is only about money, I swear, I'm gonna horsewhip that Dean Hunger."

"I'll hold 'im for ya," Vin responded darkly.

"And I'll hold down Cummings," Buck added.

"Just wish Ezra would wake up," Chris said quietly. "I have a word or two for him."

Ezra's breathing changed suddenly, becoming more of a gasp, and all three men lurched forward.

"Ezra! Don't you give up now," Chris demanded.

"Come on, pard, hang in there," Buck pleaded.

"You can do it, Ezra, come on, wake up," Vin encouraged.

Ezra gasped again and stirred slightly. His right arm raised minutely, and then fell back beside him. He settled down for a moment and then furrowed his brow as Vin gently rested a hand on his shoulder. Finally, Ezra's eyes open.

Ezra looked warily at the men at his bedside. "Why're ya'll lookin' at me like that?" he asked hoarsely.

"Damn it, Ezra!" Buck said, jumping to his feet and grabbing the water pitcher that Nathan had left nearby. "Why we all lookin' at you like what? Like we're worried 'bout you?"

Chris and Vin had Ezra sitting up before he could form a protest and Buck shoved the glass at him. Chris took it and helped Ezra to drink what he could before they settled him back down again.

Ezra sighed and looked back at them. "I feel rather poorly," Ezra commented.

"Yeah, well, that figures," Buck agreed.

"Glad to have you back, Ez," Vin said.

Chris leaned forward and said, "I got a job for you to do when you're feelin' up to it."

"A job?" Ezra asked suspiciously.

Part 26:

Ezra sat with several pillows shoved behind his back. His left arm was immobilized at his side, and he tried to move the right as little as possible as he turned the pages of the leather-bound book.

He had been going through the ledger for several hours now, scanning each page, adding up the columns in his head and making 'tsk tsk' sounds from time to time. Several times already, Chris or Vin had approached him, asking what he had found and Ezra had shaken his head at them, telling them to come back later.

At one point he called for his journal and several past issues of the Clarion, which were delivered promptly. JD was put in charge of the archived newspapers, rifling through them to find the dates Ezra specified and laying them out on the bed for Ezra to scan through. Vin was later sent to retrieve a strong box that had been secreted under the floorboards of Ezra's rented room.

Finally, Ezra closed the ledger.

"Well?" Chris asked.

Ezra smiled. "That is a deep subject, Mr. Larabee."

"What you find out?" Chris demanded.

Ezra sighed. "I have discovered that Mr. Hunger has been a very bad boy."

"Can ya be a bit more specific than that, Ezra?" Buck prompted.

Ezra smiled winningly and said, "Let us begin with the notations. Some of these entries are ... well... rather interesting when you discover the way to read them."

"Ah-huh," Vin said. "And maybe you can tell us about it."

"Rather clever, really," Ezra said, flipping the ledger open to a page and running his finger along some of the unknown text. "It became clear that there was a letter-for-letter substitution code in use, but I couldn't quite uncover the correct replacements. I always seemed on the verge of catching it but it just evaded my grasp." He paused dramatically. "And then I realized that the replaced language wasn't English at all, but French -- very clever. The words were translated - and then coded by replacing the letters: A for I, M for N, D for L and so on -- no set pattern, mind you. Quite flummoxing really and rather involving when you consider it."

"What does it say, Ezra?" Chris asked exasperatedly.

"On June 14th there is a notation which translates to 'Use AH, VD and PC for Bank Work. Usual percentages.' Of course, you should remember that the initials match those of Alan Henkle, Vernon Dixon and Peter Cummings... three of the five men who were with Mr. Hunger at their attack at Kotter's Ridge."

"Yeah, so?" Buck started.

"They were taken from their usual duties and assigned to 'bank work' for four days."

"Ezra, is this supposed to mean something to me?" Chris asked.

"On June 16th, the bank in Eagle Bend was robbed by three men. The story, as reported by our illustrious Mrs. Travis, states that the men disappeared once the robbery was completed. It was believed that they had been secreted on one of several wagons or carriages that left town at about that time."

"Alright," Vin said, "So it would take four days to travel from the Split Infinity to Eagle Bend and back."

"The tellers were killed in that robbery," Chris said darkly.

Ezra nodded and added, "On June 18th there is a payment received with a note that reads 'Successful endeavor. Profit equals 30% of total take. Remainder divided among participants'." Ezra shook his head and said, "Really, he should have taken no more than 20%, but apparently Mr. Hunger had acquired some form of misplaced loyalty from these men. Of course he provided the means of escape..."

Ezra continued, "Similar notations are made on or about the same dates as other robberies in the area, including a stagecoach hold-up that involved the deaths of two women."

"Son of a bitch," Buck muttered.

"Also, the profits column seems strangely out of line with the expenditures. The number of cattle owned by the Split Infinity does not match what was originally purchased, or what could have been adequately explained by the normal procreation process... unless of course Mr. Hunger has managed to learn a means of producing triplets from each of his cows."

"Plain English, Ezra," Vin said.

"Rustling, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said with a yawn. "The numbers involved seem to match up with reported losses at the surrounding ranches...significantly from the Lazy G." He cocked his head. "It would be easy to change a Lazy G bovine into one possibly belonging to Splint Infinity -- just a little brand altering. The tilted lower-case 'G' is easily altered to the infinity and arrow."

"Robbery, brand altering, rustling and murder..." Chris growled.

"It's all conjecture of course, circumstantial evidence, and not admissible in court." Ezra sat back in his bed. "He never comes right out and states anything in writing...coded or otherwise."

"So, what you're tellin' me is that for all that, you got nothing we can add to the case?" Chris asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose, tiredly.

"Proof is what is needed, Mr. Larabee," Ezra said and sighed before he reluctantly spoke again. "It appears that I may have gained from the deaths of these innocent citizens."

He touched his journal and said thoughtfully, "The gentlemen I mentioned earlier, Mr. Cummings, Mr. Dixon and Mr. Henkle, were known to me. I often found time to meet them at the gambling tables. I thought that their visits to my game were strangely random, not timed to any known paydays, and that they often carried significant amounts of cash with them. I must confess that I saw fit to lighten their burden. I have the dates and amounts recorded here." He opened the journal and idly flipped its pages. The writing, momentarily revealed, looked nothing like English, undoubtedly another sort of code. "So it seems that I have profited from Mr. Hunger's unhappy dealings."

He tried to move the strongbox from the bedstead but couldn't lift it with his bandaged arm, so JD stepped in. Ezra nodded a thanks before he unlocked the box. He lifted the lid and retrieved what he was after. He did so quickly, letting the lid snap shut before any further contents could be revealed.

He held up a broach, shining with tiny chips of diamonds and a sapphire in the center. "Mr. Cummings came up short one evening and offered to add this to the kitty. I thought it might prove to be a winning gift to a future Mrs. Standish, so I accepted."

He looked toward Chris, his eyes tired and guilty. "It was reported in the Clarion that a Mrs. Wilkes, who met her untimely end at the stagecoach robbery, had been in possession of such a bauble. I should have made note of this at the time of my acquisition. If I had, perhaps it would have spared Mr. Riley and his compatriots of their lives. I believe I was blinded by my good fortune and somehow missed the connection when I originally read the story. I should have."

Chris took the pretty piece of jewelry from Standish and asked, "Proof?"

Ezra nodded slowly. "It should be enough to prove the rest."

Chris held the broach to the light, seeing it glitter.

"I shall find a way to repay what I have gained from these tragedies," Ezra said quietly, "But I am afraid that it shall take me some time to garner the necessary amount as my losses outweigh my gains at the moment."

"Dang it, Ezra," Buck said. "None of this is your fault, you don't owe nothin' of it."

"Just the same," Ezra said, obviously losing whatever strength he had left, "I shall repay the ill-gotten gains."

Vin stepped forward and said, "Ezra, this got nothin' to do with you."

"Profit and loss, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said as he closed his eyes again.

Part 27:

Nathan pushed the wheelchair down the boardwalk and back toward the clinic. "Stupid ... arrogant... short-sighted... over-confident... pain-in-the-ass..." he muttered to the back of the man who occupied the chair.

"Mr. Jackson?" Ezra responded. "Are you referring to me?"

"Oh, so you're awake again," Nathan replied. "Yeah, you. I told you not to overdo it. I told you to let me know if you were feelin' poorly and what do you do? You go and collapse on the witness stand and throw the whole courtroom into turmoil."

"And that was exactly my plan, Mr. Jackson," Ezra said, turning in the chair to get a glance at Nathan's face and wincing at the pain in his side. "Besides, it wasn't a courtroom. It was the Grain Exchange."

"You could've hurt yourself."

Ezra held up his arms...one bandaged and the other splinted. "I am already hurt so there wasn't much to add to that. Gravity is a harsh mistress. Anyway, the appearance of our poor Mr. Marvin Carter and my little display went a long way in gaining the desired outcome of the trial. We had the proof needed, but sometimes a little theatrics are needed to seal the preferred outcome."

"Are you tellin' me that you nearly fell out of this chair on purpose? Well, that figures. You had to have meant to do it," Nathan said sharply as he shoved the chair in front of him.

Jackson continued with his admonishment, "It was a stupid thing to do."

"Of course it was, Mr. Jackson. But it seems that I am quite adept at 'stupid'," Ezra said reluctantly. "Sometimes stupid works."

The healer sighed, noting the tone of Ezra's voice. Not again, he thought. He stopped and walked around the chair until he was facing the southerner who returned his gaze evenly.

"Sorry," Nathan said.

"Concerning?" Ezra returned.

"Sorry 'bout 'stupid'. Sorry 'bout what I said to you the other day, at Widow Parker's."

Ezra smiled. "But, Mr. Jackson, there's no reason. You spoke only the truth and one must never have to apologize for the truth."

"Well," Nathan paused. "Sometimes it seems like there's more than one version of the truth."

Ezra laughed lightly, careful not to pull his ribs. "You are beginning to sound like me, Mr. Jackson. Hardly appropriate."

Jackson looked away for a moment and then returned his gaze to Ezra. "I'm just sorry is all. I wasn't thinkin' straight and I had no right to talk to you like I did. I just wanted to apologize."

Ezra regarded Jackson for a moment, his mind running over a dozen different quips before he finally said, "Apology accepted, Mr. Jackson. Now, may we please get out of the street? I see no need for anyone else to view me in my incapacitated state."

Nathan nodded curtly and resumed his place behind the chair. "Let's getcha back to your home-away-from home," the healer said once the pair reached the stairs.

"Come on, Ezra," Josiah said, appearing as they approached. "We'll carry ya back up."

"Good Lord, not again," Ezra muttered. "Can't we manage this in some less... embarrassing manner?"

"'Fraid not," Josiah responded. "Now, if you would just keep quiet and not use quite so many obscenities during this little procedure, maybe you'd draw less of a crowd."

Ezra just grumbled and waited for his humiliation.

Part 28:

"Judge Travis," Chris called as he trailed the Judge out of the Grange Exchange that had formed the makeshift courthouse.

"Mr. Larabee," the judge responded. "An interesting trial, to say the least. I can well understand why Hunger didn't want that ledger out of his sight. I would like to thank Mr. Standish for his help in understanding it. I hope that he's recovered from his...spell. I take it he has returned to the care of Mr. Jackson?"

"I need to talk to you about somethin' concerning him," Chris said.

The judge wanted to return to his daughter-in-law's house, to see his grandson and to relax for the day. He had been looking forward to that.

The trial had been rather short in length. The boy, Marv Carter, had testified first, trembling and bandaged. His parents had sat beside him throughout most of the proceedings, crying unabashedly. They would take him home them when all was said and done. Then Standish had been brought in on a wheelchair, not looking very healthy. Standish had testified on the contents of the ledger.

Hunger's lawyer had tried to press the point that Carter couldn't possibly remember anything correctly, his head injury had muddled his mind. He had pressed the point that Standish's attack at Kotter's Ridge had been unjustified -- that Standish had murdered four of Hunger's men. He had said that Standish was continuing to malign Hunger by 'making things up' in regard to the ledger. "Pure fabrication!" the lawyer had shouted at one point. When the jewelry appeared, the lawyer had insisted that since Standish was in possession of the jewelry, perhaps he should be the one on trial. But the jury hadn't been convinced. The fact that the boy had looked so pitiful with his head bound in that white bandage and that Standish had almost fallen out of his wheelchair in an apparent dead-faint at the end of his testimony certainly helped. Hunger and Cummings had been declared guilty and sentenced accordingly.

Dean Hunger and Peter Cummings would hang. The sentence had brought smiles from Larabee and his men.

"You wish to talk, Mr. Larabee? Well," Travis paused. "For a few minutes only. My grandson is waiting and I can deny him nothing." His dinner with Mary could be delayed. He followed Larabee across the street to a pair of chairs set under the eaves of the mercantile.

"I need to talk to you about the possibility of reward money," Chris said quietly.

Part 29:

The day was dry and hot. The rainstorms that had passed through were nothing but a memory. Ezra sat, leaned back in his chair, his feet propped up against the railing outside the saloon. His leg and his side still hurt enough to make him limp, but he was able to maneuver well enough. His left arm was in a sling, but his right was now functional. He smiled as he read the letter that had been recently delivered to him.

He looked up when he heard Chris and Vin approach and spoke as they reached him, "Apparently, our Mr. Marvin Carter had reached his home. He asks me to give his regards and to thank you for your hospitality. He reports that his family is well and he had a fairly enjoyable journey. His only complaint was in regard to the medication that was sent along with him. He said that it gave him a belly-ache."

"Glad to hear he made it," Chris said as he let something drop into Ezra's lap. "He's a good kid."

"I believe you've lost your grip on your possession," Ezra said, gesturing to the unfamiliar packet as he pocketed the letter.

"It's yours," Chris replied, pulling up a chair and sitting backward on it. He lay his arms across the back of the chair and watched as Ezra opened the simple wallet and fingered the bills within.
Standish felt a flush at the sight of all that cash. His mouth went dry and he had to swallow before he could say, "There's well over a thousand dollars here."

"Let's see... it was $300 reward for the stagecoach robbery, another $300 for the bank job," Vin said.

"$100 here, another $100 there..." Chris added. "It came to $2,200 all total."

Feeling a little ill, Ezra had to say, "It should go back to the parties who lost it, shouldn't it?" He knew that his statement sounded weak. His hand couldn't unclench the wallet and he doubted he could give it up even if Chris were to wrestle it from him.

"I hear tell that Mr. Hunger had a lot of money in his safe," Vin said. "Judge Travis ordered that he make re-set-a..." Vin stumbled.

"Restitution?" Ezra supplied.

Vin nodded. "Yeah, that'd be it."

"Everything's been repaid," Chris added. "That money is yours free and clear."

Ezra grinned, looking like a kid at Christmas until a thought reached him. Reluctantly, he stated, "Then the money is yours, Mr. Tanner, as you are the one who captured the mastermind of the operation."

Vin smiled, watching the gambler do battle, "Can't claim that, Ezra. I may 'ave been the one who grabbed the guy, but we wouldn't 'ave been able to hold 'im if you hadn't figured out how to keep 'im. And he would'a gotta away clean if you hadn't been there to help that kid." Vin leaned forward and patted Ezra's shoulder. "It's yours, pard."

Ezra grinned widely, opening the packet and fanning the money. He smiled brightly, and magnanimously stated, "Perhaps Mr. Carter..."

"Marv already has his share," Chris explained. "We sent 'im half. You got $1,100 there."

"Half?" Ezra nearly choked.

"Kid earned it," Chris returned. "It was very brave of him to take that ledger."

Ezra looked as if he wanted to counter the argument, but realized the truth in the matter. Instead, he thumbed the bills, doing a quick count. With a distraught look, he commented, "It's missing a few dollars."

Chris smiled and pulled the missing bills from his own pocket. "I figured that drinks were on the house tonight."

Ezra shook his head at Larabee's use of the phrase. "One must own the tavern to fulfill that request," he responded as he closed the packet and dropped it into his pocket.

"Way I figgure it," Vin said, "You got enough to get yerself that saloon now."

Ezra patted the packet and quietly said, "Yes, perhaps." His eyes took on a distant look. "Perhaps enough to get started but not enough to keep it going."

"I got about a hunnered saved up," Vin said. "If you need investors, I'd be in for it."

"I might be interested in a little of that action," Chris included.

Buck appeared suddenly and added, "I'm in, too! 'Specially if it means I can get my drinks for free."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "There will be no such thing! A discount perhaps, but gentlemen, a man must make his profit."

Vin and Chris both grabbed Ezra and dragged him to his feet. "Come on," Vin said. "Let's go check out the competition."

"I bet you could buy this place," Chris ventured, turning to the saloon at their backs. "I hear tell that the owner is lookin' to move to 'Frisco."

"Golden opportunity...golden. Let's discuss this enterprise of ours over a drink or two," Buck insisted, gesturing them to the tavern.

The four men entered the saloon, as Ezra appraised it with a new eye for detail. It was a little small, a little dark -- rather dirty. The decorations had much to be desired, but there was potential. Yes, possibly – possibly -- he could make this work. They had a good business going already, he could capitalize on that and could make it grow in time.

"I don't care much for that paintin' they got there," Buck said, nodding to a muddy portrait of a severe lady in brown. "I think the first thing we should do is to replace her with someone a little more...friendly."

"I think it needs more light in 'ere," Vin suggested. "The windows are too small. Feel's boxed in."

"Chris waved away Vin's suggestion. "You feel boxed in 'cause it's too small. What we'd need is more room."

"Room enough for me!" Buck responded.

"Light," Vin nodded. "Definitely needs to be lighter." He elbowed Ezra, drawing a wince from the man. "We'd be savin' on kerosene and candles if it were lighter in 'ere, right?"

Ezra looked between the three of them, bewildered, as he rubbed his sore arm. Did they honestly believe that this was possible? Were they actually considering investing in something he owned? Didn't they remember his track record with local saloons?

"What are you guys talkin' about?" JD asked as they approached their table. Nathan and Josiah sat with him.

"Business, kid, business. And keep yer voice down. We don't need the proprietor hearin' us," Buck said. "Now, about that there picture. I know this gorgeous little flower of a lady who would be more than happy to sit for her portrait. She's quite accommodatin'. Willin' to do just about anythin' a man might ask -- if you catch my meanin'. We'd just need to find the right guy to do the paintin'."

"Nah, that'd be too much, Buck," Vin declared quietly. "I bet fine art like that would cost a packet."

"You think that puttin' in big ol' windows is gonna be cheap? Hell, Vin, do you know how far they gotta transport those things?" Buck insisted. "They're breakable! Heck, a day don't go by when someone ain't breakin' out a window somewhere in town."

Chris said in a low voice, "I bet we can buy up the store next door at a good price. They never get much business. We'd just have to tear out that wall there and double the size of this place."

JD and the others turned to Ezra. "What are they talkin' about, Ez?" JD whispered.

"A business venture, my good man," Ezra said with a wide grin. "And if any of you gentlemen would like to get in on it, I suggest you move quickly before this is all decided without you. Now, concerning expansion... I believe the dry good store would indeed allow for the extra room required and that establishment already includes a rather large window, which would satisfy the need for extra light as well. As for the using Mr. Wilmington's 'gorgeous little flower' as the model for the replacement portrait, well, I suppose I would need to judge her adequacy myself."

"Count me in with this judging thing!" Vin said loudly and then smirked when he realized he had raised his voice.

"I want a look at her, too," Chris said with a grin.

"That can be arranged," Buck with a knowing nod and a wink.

JD, Nathan and Josiah looked at each other as the discussion continued. "Think we should get in on this business venture, too?" JD asked the others.

Josiah took a deep pull and set down his mug. "I don't think that we could afford not to, JD," he commented and then added his own voice to the conversation. "We might want to consider enlarging the menu a bit."

"Gotta keep it simple," Buck insisted.

"It'd be great if you could get a decent dinner here," JD offered, leaning in and keeping his voice low.

Nathan shook his head as he took in the proceedings and then looked over at Ezra who was positively beaming. The gambler sat forward in his chair, as excited as a child on Christmas morning. He was smiling broadly, going on about the benefits and the detriments of providing a large variety of foods in a saloon.

"I'm in, too," Nathan said, "But only if you do somethin' about the privy out back."

"Oh God, yes," Buck said, rolling his eyes and everyone made sounds of agreement.

"Brother Nathan," Josiah said, "I believe you may have hit upon the improvement that needs to be attempted first."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Ezra said, settling his arms on the table. "I do believe that we are getting ahead of ourselves. First things first. There will be a necessary outlay of cash."

Ezra smiled wolfishly as he watched the men find hidden cash on their persons, run off to raid a cache or head across to the bank. He leaned back in his chair and waited. Perhaps, he thought, the odds were changing and the black would outweigh the red for a change.

Yes, it was possible.

Vin had pulled a bag out of his shirt and withdrew about a dozen wrinkled bills, slapping them on the table. He looked back at Ezra and said, "Think it'll do? Think we can make this work?"

"Certainly, Mr. Tanner. We'll be making a commendable investment and only need wait until the profits start rolling in."

THE END