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It’d been two weeks since they all returned from Jericho, and a couple of the medium-sized ranchers, Chamblin and Avery—men who reckoned themselves the local version of “cattle barons” even though they had barely 200 head between them—had got into a tussle over grazing rights. What should have been a simple matter of legal boundaries quickly became an all-out feud, which, of course, spilled into town and kept the lawmen of Four Corners busy.
Damn ranch hands fought at the drop of a hat and didn’t much care who got caught in the crossfire. Chris had wired the judge after Buck and Ezra were both hurt trying to break up brawls. He was hoping to get something legal done quick, before anyone got killed in the violence that kept playing itself out in the saloons and streets. The judge just said to go to the regional assayer’s office, get the latest local territorial map, and wait for him to get there—in a week or so.
Hopefully, no one would end up dead during that time.
So here Vin and Buck were, Buck with his arm still sore but good enough to shoot if need be, headed home from Red River with the documents that were supposed to put this whole matter to rest. Vin was keeping a close eye out—would be easy for either side in the dispute to lose both riders and maps in the desert. He wasn’t sure any of them was up to cold-blooded murder, but Chamblin’s son had a mean streak (was him that scored Buck’s arm in a fight with Avery’s foreman) and Avery’s nephew Thomas had been the one to take down Ezra, so you just never knew how far people’d go.
Poor Ezra. His head must still be hurting something fierce. Vin just hoped it eased off some before his birthday on Friday. He grinned, thinking on the present he’d found in Red River.
“You look right proud of yourself,” Buck said, watching Vin finger the bulge in his pocket for the fifth time since they’d left for home.
And Vin was. The present wasn’t something he ever would’ve seen himself buying for anyone, but it was so perfect, he’d breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it.
“Thanks for letting me know,” he said. “Never would’ve found this at Mrs. Potter’s. I wonder why Ezra didn’t bother to tell no one? After all the trouble he gone through for yours and Josiah’s…?” He didn’t mention Chris’s. He figured Buck’d be blind not to notice the new pocket watch Chris had been sporting, but that was between Chris and Ezra.
Buck definitely wasn’t blind. “And that fine watch Chris’s got to replace his missing piece of crap.” He shrugged. “You met Maude. I don’t reckon she took a lot of time for birthdays when he was growing up. Probably doesn’t expect anyone to bother.”
Vin shook his head. Probably not. Kind of sad, that.
“Or maybe he just wants to make sure he gets the party he wants,” he returned, smiling. “Don’t want nobody to mess it up.”
“That, my friend, is a definite possibility.”
They rode on in silence, and Vin pondered their friend. Ezra’s birthday was in four days, and he hadn’t told a soul. Seemed pretty odd to Vin—he figured Ezra’d be bucking for as many gifts as he could get. Instead, it seemed like he was planning his own surprise party.
Buck’d been in the telegraph office a few days ago when a wire come in for Ezra. Knowing telegraph code came in handy, and Vin knew it weren’t the first time Buck’d eavesdropped on a wire. This one mentioned a “birthday celebration” to be held on December 17.
Buck, of course, had been pleased as punch to share the news as he and Vin headed out to Red River. Vin had just been annoyed. Buck’d know for two days before he told him--didn’t give him much time to figure something out.
“How do you know it was his birthday, they was talking about?”
“Well JD’s ain’t until February, and Josiah told me Nathan’s is in May, so...” Buck had stopped his horse, a horrified look coming over him. “Oh Lord, Vin, it ain’t your birthday, is it? Shit, I didn’t go and ruin one of his big surprises, did I?”
“No, not my birthday,” he’d assured him. At least, he didn’t figure it was his birthday. Not like it got awful cold in Lubbock in December, but it wouldn’t be near as green as he remembered it being when his ma would celebrate with him. He needed to figure out how to let slip the date he’d chosen for his birthday. Maybe he’d let Chris do that…
Buck had let out a relieved breath. “Well then, it’s gotta be his, don’t it?”
Vin’s mind had already started turning. “You get him anything?”
“He mentioned something to Josiah recently about a book he’d heard about—The Gilded Age. Written by that travel writer, he likes so much—Twain? Anyway, it’s about politics and money or something, so Josiah and I figured it was right up his alley. Went in on it together.”
And so Vin had thought on what to get the whole way to Red River. Ezra should have been on this ride, him being the one with at least some sort of legal schooling, but Nathan had told Chris that wasn’t happening. Not that anyone thought it would.
“I believe I should like for all ranch hands to be banned from our fair burg for the duration,” Ezra had grumbled, squinting painfully as Nathan held a handkerchief to the man’s bloody scalp. There’d been another brawl that had got out of hand, and Ezra had been smacked across the head with a length of wood while trying to control the situation without shooting all the idiots involved. Avery’s nephew had been the one to swing the board, and Ezra’d been knocked flat and lay out cold for fifteen minutes before the situation was dealt with.
Looking at the blood running down his friend’s neck from the gash above his ear, the bruises already blooming all the way across his cheek and threatening to blacken his eye, Vin had thought that maybe Ezra was right. Buck’s arm was still hurting him and in a sling, and now Ezra was bleeding like a stuck pig, hardly seeing straight.
Someone was like to get killed if this continued.
“Figure Josiah and I’d better ride out to Avery’s. Let him know we got Thomas.” Chris had said, as he came over to check on them. He’d been fit to spit nails. Nonsense like this wasn’t what any of them had planned when they signed on. “And I need a couple of you to run up to Red River and pick up some papers at the Assayers office. Judge wants us to try to deal with this all legal-like, before we start breaking heads.” Chris clearly didn’t think much of that idea.
“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” Ezra had muttered, swatting at Nathan as the healer tried to stop the bleeding long enough to get him up to the clinic. “I believe it will likely stop on its own at this point, Mr. Jackson. Your shoving that cloth through the side of my skull is unlikely to improve my headache.”
He’d looked right pathetic, for all his protesting, and his words were starting to slur pretty bad. Chris had leaned over to get into Ezra’s line of sight so the injured man wouldn’t have to look up at him. “How you feeling, Ezra?”
“Horrible, Mr. Larabee. Thank you for your inquiry.” Sounded more and more like he had rocks in his mouth, but he kept trying to use those fancy words of his. In a surprising display of stupid, Ezra had struggled to rise, turning sort of green but trying to ignore it. “Of course, I’ll be happy to look over the maps and documents. I shall prepare my saddlebags at once and be on my way.” He then completely misjudged his balance and grabbed at the post in front of him, but was about a foot and a half off. Vin and Nathan had each stretched out a hand and grabbed for him before Ezra could fall flat on his face. Again.
Of course, there’d been no question of Ezra coming with ‘em. Last Vin saw him, Buck and Nathan had his arms around their shoulders and were mostly carrying him to the clinic.
“Hope Ezra’s feeling better when we get back,” Buck said, like he’d heard Vin’s thoughts. Vin just nodded, realizing they were getting close to Avery’s place. He started scanning the bluff for the telltale sign of a sniper, sensing Buck looking for a ground ambush in the pitiful cover nearby.
Vin nodded. “Expect he’ll rise to the occasion for his own party,” he said. Nothing on the ridge… He looked up at the bluff—mica in the rock was playing havoc with trying to find anyone up there, but at least he had the late afternoon sun beating down on the bluff face. It would help to highlight anything out of place.
“He’ll sure be surprised when we all show up with presents.”
“Yep. Reckon he figured he’d be surprising us.” Vin patted the bulge in his coat pocket again, as if expecting it had disappeared when he wasn’t looking.
Buck chuckled at the action. “Must be some present!”
Vin shrugged. “Hope so. It’s kind of fun. Ain’t never really done this before.”
“You never give your friends birthday presents before?” Buck asked, clearly horrified.
“Comanche and Kiowa don’t give gifts that way,” he explained a little defensively. “Never really had time to make many friends since then.”
Buck laughed. “Well now you got ‘em, pard. And all the stress of gift-giving that goes with ‘em.”
It was a stress, all right. Didn’t seem like much of a burden, though.
They kept their eyes peeled as they came right up on the edge of Willard Avery’s ranch, looking for trouble. Vin suddenly saw the glint of metal halfway down the bluff, and drew breath to warn Buck. The warning went unsaid, as he felt the rifle’s bullet plow into his chest and heard the crack of the shot right after.
Getting soft, Tanner, he chastised himself in the split second it took for the pain to hit him. Should’ve seen that coming a damn sight sooner.
He didn’t hear Buck shouting for him, didn’t feel himself hit the ground and bounce back up like a spring doll and grab the rifle off his saddle to line up the shot. He only saw the glint of the gunman on the bluff, the shine of the man’s rifle rising slightly as he took aim at Buck to finish his job. Because the sniper and Vin both knew Vin was already dead—he just hadn’t finished breathing out yet.
So before he did, he fired.
His bullet hit before the man way above had a chance to pull the trigger again, and Vin exhaled finally, falling as his target did, buried under one God awful mound of crushing hurt.
“Vin!” Buck darted into Vin’s tunneling vision, sliding carefully around the horses, rifle in hand. “Vin, God damn it, you answer me!”
“Got him,” Vin whispered, trying so hard to draw breath that just wasn’t interested in coming. Jesus he hurt. He was pretty sure he screamed when Buck pushed down on the wound, but he couldn’t hear it over the rush of blood that seemed to go through his ears and head straight back down and out the hole in his chest.
“Fuck,” he barked. He wondered if Buck had heard it, or he only made the sound in his mind. God, he hated pain. He was a God damned sissy when it came right down to it. And this right here hurt so damn much more than anything else ever had. Christ!
“Stay with me, okay, Vin?”
Buck was pleading, and Vin would’ve liked to reassure him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there wasn’t going to be much his friend could do for him.
As his whole world narrowed down to a small caliber hole, Vin had a lot of thoughts run through his head. Chief among them was how all-fired pissed Chris was going to be that he was down another man.
***
The pain and the sense of drowning didn’t get any better for a while, but sometimes, he could hear things over it.
Praying. Josiah or Quiet Flame. Didn’t much matter and neither did the words. Was the sound of the caring behind them. The sound of the soul-deep hurt.
“Vin? Vin, you hear me?” Buck again. Never far away, never near to peace. “You fight, damn you! “
“…can’t say, Chris, damn it.” Nathan quiet and wary, at the end of his rope. The end of Vin’s rope. “I done what I can….”
“We’re waiting.” Ezra. Tired as Nathan, but more hopeful. “You need to come back.”
Trying, Ezra. I am. But Jesus, no man should hurt like this…
No, sir. No man should have to live with this much hurt…
***
So he must have died. He remembered thinking he couldn’t live hurting that much, and now he didn’t, so he must be dead.
Heaven smelled a lot like Nathan’s place, though.
Vin worked a minute to open his eyes, finding that he had actually survived what he’d been sure was a fatal shot. He was lying on the bed in Nathan’s clinic. He was hurting, surely—wouldn’t say no to a bit of whiskey, even laudanum—but the pain that’d unhinged him so when it first struck was gone.
He could tell it was just past dawn, though the shades were drawn against its coming. He felt like he’d been asleep for a damn long time, and he idly wondered if he’d missed Ezra’s celebration. Had probably been a hell of a party, with Ezra planning it.
Yeah, his chest was on fire, but it didn’t hurt to breathe so much any more, just a steady burn he could live with. He reached up and looked down, examining the heavy wrapping that crisscrossed over his heart. Lord, he didn’t think he’d ever had a closer shave than that. Never much wanted to, either.
The door opened almost silently, and Vin looked up to see Nathan slipping in with a bucket of water. The healer froze for a second before his face broke out in a smile and he moved to sit in the chair beside the bed, sloshing water all over the floor as he set the bucket down.
“Hey, Vin,” he greeted him quietly. “How long you been awake?”
Vin shrugged, hissing. Wasn’t sure he was quite up to talking just yet. Breathing was good enough.
“You’re gonna be okay, you hear?” Nathan said quickly, reassuring him. “Scary as hell, that shot, but shallower than it looked. Chris figured the rifle weren’t made for that kind of distance. Bullet’s out, bleeding’s stopped. Infection ain’t going make you feel so great for a while yet, but it didn’t nick nothing you couldn’t survive it nicking.” He searched Vin’s face, looking for some kind of answer, and Vin figured he’d have to talk sooner than he wanted to.
“Thanks.”
He really hoped that was enough, because he wasn’t up to much more.
“You’re still hurting, I know,” Nathan said, rising and setting about to fix a glass that Vin knew would have enough laudanum in it to put him out of his misery for a while. “Drink this down and I’ll change your bandages once it takes effect. Won’t take long and I’ll let you go on back to sleep. Sleep’s what you need.”
“Day is it?” he managed. Barely. Nathan helped him sit up enough to drink the laced water down, and he lay back gratefully, waiting for it to kick in.
“Saturday,” Nathan offered, puttering around and getting some cloth together to rewrap the wound.
Hell, four days?
“Missed it, huh?”
“Missed what?” Nathan asked quietly.
Wait. Maybe he didn’t. Party should have been yesterday, but…
Not getting an answer from him, Nathan must’ve felt the need to explain. “You lost an awful lot of blood before Buck could get clear of the ambush and get you here. Fever ain’t been too high, but your body needed the rest to heal.”
All thoughts of birthdays flew out of his head. Ambush? Something more than the shooter on the bluff? He remembered Buck’s voice though. After…
“He okay?”
“Crease on his thigh to go with the slice on his arm,” Nathan told him candidly. “Wasn’t enough to stop him taking care of the two who figured to grab the map once their sharp shooter took you all down.” He grinned. “And not near enough to keep him from riding out with us to take care of the problem.”
“Avery.”
“No—Chamblin. Well, Chamblin’s son, actually.”
Really?
Nathan nodded. “Was trying to kill two birds with one stone. Get the maps and pin your deaths on Avery at the same time.” He sat down again and smiled. “Chris came down on ‘em like hellfire. Was damn satisfying after everything those idiots have put us through the last couple of weeks.”
“No more feud, huh?”
“Pa Chamblin sort of gave up, once he found out his son tried to have a lawman killed. Figured he’d better let Avery have the land and hope that Chris didn’t torch his place just because.”
Chris’d never do that. Not that he couldn’t make people think he might, though.
Nathan saw the words on his face and grinned. “Yeah. Been getting pretty sick of this whole thing. Buck sliced up and shot, you in the state you were in at the time. Hell, I only just sprang Ezra yesterday.”
“He okay now?” Seemed a long time to be in clinic for a crack to the head. Maybe he was just too sick for his birthday.
“Developed a fever that first night—figured he might, with the state of the wood that hit him. Took a bit to lick it. Head aches something fierce still, I think, but you know him. He wouldn’t tell me if it did.”
Vin nodded. Ezra was damn stupid about that sort of thing. Nathan had his herbs and his potions and such for a reason. Seemed a shame to hurt if you didn’t need to.
“Wasn’t up to his party last night, then, huh?”
Nathan froze for a second and a strange look come over his face, concern for too many people, sort of. “I think Ezra had other things on his mind yesterday.” He looked very seriously at Vin as he picked up a tray with his doctoring supplies on it. “He’s been in here with you, watching you just lie there, for days now. Been awful quiet, and I don’t think it was just the head wound.”
Vin felt a flush of comfort at that. It was good to know his friends cared.
Maybe now he was awake, they could have that party, though. At least Vin could get Ezra up here—give him his present. He looked around, hissing at how much the movement hurt his chest. Laudanum could kick in whenever. “Nathan, you seen my coat? Can I get it for a minute?”
Nathan put his tray down on the edge of the bed and pulled Vin’s jacket down from the bedstead. “Here you go,” he offered, laying it on Vin’s lap. “I know you ain’t thinking of breaking out of here.”
“No chance, Nathan,” he replied, checking his pockets. “Bed’s a whole lot more comfortable than my wagon just now.” Hell. He came up with a piece of jerky and a spent shell casing.
“Damn.”
“What’s wrong, Vin?” Nathan asked, sitting next to him again.
There were footfalls on the stairs outside, uneven and halting. Buck, from the sound of it. Up too early again—was it the leg or the arm? Vin wondered.
“Nothing,” he answered Nathan sadly. Damn thing must have fell out during the ambush. Hell only knew where it was now. “Lost something, is all.”
Buck limped in the door and his entrance had Nathan on his feet and on the other man in a second. “Buck, what do you think you’re doing? Ain’t I told you not to try these stairs ‘less there’s a damn good reason? And where’s that cane I gave you?”
Buck wasn’t feeling guilty at all, by the look of him. “It’s just a scratch, Nathan,” he told him quietly, like he didn’t want to wake the patient. “Don’t need all the fanfare about it.” He smiled his ladies’ man smile. “Though the sympathy from certain of the female population has certainly been worth it.”
“Figures you’d have to be three-fourths dead not to go courting,” Vin murmured happily. Buck looked good, all things considered. Tired, but maybe he could rest easy now all the hubbub had died down.
“’Bout time you woke up, Tanner!” Buck took the seat Nathan had vacated, while the healer just threw up his hands and moved the tray to the other side of the bed, so he could change Vin’s bandages. Vin weren’t looking forward to that at all, and was glad to finally feel the laudanum spreading a pleasant fog over him. “How you feeling?”
Vin forced himself not to shrug. “Been better. Beats being dead, though.”
Buck sobered at that. “It does that.”
“You all give Ezra his presents yet?”
Buck shook his head with that same concerned look that Nathan gave him before. “Didn’t think he much felt up to it. He didn’t say nothing, of course, but he ain’t had much to say at all since I hauled your ass back from Avery’s place. Got sprung from here in the afternoon and just went straight up to bed.” He grinned. “Figure he’ll be feeling a whole lot more like celebrating once he hears you’re awake, though.”
Vin nodded, a little embarrassed by all the concern. “I figure I’ll miss the shindig anyway—doubt Nathan’s letting me out of here any time soon. Might need your help to find a new present.” Buck looked a question at him and Vin flapped his coat lightly in disgust. “Must’ve come out of my pocket when I fell,” he explained. Damn thing had cost him a good price, too. He didn’t think he’d find another one like it—certainly not before he saw Ezra again.
Buck shook his head and smiled, leaning over to dig through something at the side of Vin’s bed. “Would I let you lose a present this fine?” he asked, sounding hurt at the idea.
Vin grinned as Buck placed a crumpled, dusty black box in his hand.
“Picked it up after everything was done out by the Avery ranch,” Buck explained. “Put it in your saddlebag for safe keeping.”
Lord, the box was beat up, but when Vin opened it, the present still shined as pretty. “Thank you, Buck.”
Buck grinned, swatting him gently on the leg. “I didn’t peek, I promise—want to see Ezra’s face when he opens it first.”
“Never thought the six of us’d be clamoring to buy things for that conman,” Nathan growled good-naturedly. “Expect that’s why he started this. Figures to make a killing ‘cause we’ll all be afraid he won’t buy us nothing if we don’t reciprocate.” Vin frowned at the word. Hell of a mouthful—couldn’t he just say he’d better buy Ezra a present so Ezra’d buy him one back? There was a shine to the healer’s eyes, though, that made Vin smile.
“Hell of a present you got him, huh?” he asked knowingly.
Nathan grinned. “Hope he likes it—Mrs. Potter helped.” He put his hands on his knees, and Vin knew it was time to get down to business. “That laudanum doing for you? I gotta change those bandages.” He looked at Buck. “What’d you come up here for, anyway?”
Buck stood carefully. “Wanted to see if you needed a break to get yourself some breakfast. Tween Ezra and Vin, here, I reckon you ain’t had time to take much care of yourself.”
Nathan’s sigh told them both Buck was right. “I gotta change his dressing, then I’ll go.” Buck moved out of the way and hobbled over to the chair by the desk, where he wouldn’t have to watch the proceedings.
As he tried to ignore the pain of just cutting away the bandages, Vin wondered when Ezra’d be by. Must have been a shame not to be able to celebrate on his birthday. It’d be good to brighten his day.
Then Nathan started cleaning his wound, and Vin didn’t wonder much of anything.
*****
If Ezra came by during the day, Vin never knew it. He slept most of it away, waking just long enough to eat a little stew for Mary, who was keeping watch. Nathan must have been out helping someone, and Vin was fast asleep before the healer came back.
It was full dark before Vin came awake proper, and the lamp was low, but the figure reading a book next to it was close enough to the flame for Vin to see his face clearly—horrible black bruising and all.
“Hey Ezra.”
Ezra sat up slowly, placing a small card in the book and closing it, putting it on the table beside him. Vin wondered if it was the book Buck and Josiah’d given him.
“Mr. Tanner,” he replied, turning up the lamp slightly. Vin figured it was so the gambler could get a good look at him, because he sure took the time to get an eyeful before he spoke again. Sounded right relieved. “You’re looking better, finally.”
Vin gestured weakly to the bruises, the stitches, the black eye. “You sort of look like hell.”
“Well, thank you.” But there weren’t any real annoyance in his voice. “Are you hungry?” Seemed to be an important question to him, and he was watching Vin carefully. Sort of reminded him of a kid waiting to show you his newest trick.
Which made there only one answer to give. “I could eat.” Nathan hadn’t told him he couldn’t, after all, and that stew hadn’t been enough to overcome four days of not eating.
Ezra smiled and walked to the stove at the other end of the room. It was banked down, the weather being surprisingly warm for December, but it put out enough heat to keep a plate of food ready. Ezra did most of the lifting and pulling to get Vin sitting up enough to eat, then set down a thick cloth and the plate and fork as well.
The plate was covered with a mass of shrimp and grits and a large piece of cornbread. Vin looked up with a smile. “How was the party?”
Ezra was embarrassed, which Vin didn’t get. “I am sorry about that, Vin,” he said. “I would have waited until you, too, had gained your freedom from Mr. Jackson’s clutches, but the shrimp, you see, was only going to stay fresh for so long.”
Vin snorted, sliding a fork into the mess of grits. “Don’t have to apologize for having your birthday party,” he told him. “Least you saved me some.”
Ezra allowed that with a nod. “There is freshly made pecan pie, as well, if you’re up to it.”
Putting the fork of grits in his mouth, Vin didn’t much care if he lived to get to the pie or not. The meal itself was pretty much heaven. He’d had shrimp and grits a few times, when his bounty hunting had taken him to East Texas and once into Louisiana. This, though, was something else altogether. “This is damn fine grub, Ezra,” he murmured, feeling the silky grits slide down his throat. Warm and buttery, with big shrimp adding a perfect flavor to the whole. “Damn fine.”
“I think Mr. Yardley did a more than adequate job,” Ezra replied, looking proud and pleased. Lord, if this was what the cook at the hotel restaurant could do, why the hell wasn’t he making food like this every night? “The recipe, of course, contributed to the quality of the meal. My cousin Evalina is a brilliant cook in her own right and her shrimp and grits are not to be missed.” He grinned happily at the bliss Vin knew was on his face. “All in all, a wonderful meal.” His voice grew more serious. “I am thankful you were around to share it with us, if remotely.”
Vin nodded his understanding of the sentiment, warmed at his friend’s caring. But the mood was getting too heavy for such a fine plate of grits. Vin gestured to the book. “That the one Buck and Josiah got you?”
Ezra sat back and picked it up. “Yes.” His grin got smaller, a little awed. “I don’t know how, but it seems I wasn’t the only one planning a surprise this year.” He shook himself out of his thoughts. “Mr. Twain is ever an engaging author. I hear he’s turned to writing more fiction now. If this is any indication of his talent for it, then I await more with great anticipation.”
Vin thought again that he really should ask Ezra to teach him to read. Man loved words so much, he was probably a good teacher. “What else’d you get?”
“JD chose a cravat for me.” Vin almost laughed at the look on the dandy’s face. “I know he meant well, but I am often given to wonder if the young man either does not understand color, or simply cannot see it correctly. Color blindness, they call it.”
Yeah, sometimes he wondered, too. Mostly he just thought JD was painfully young.
“Mr. Larabee managed to procure a truly wonderful bottle of single-malt scotch whiskey. I cannot imagine where he found the money to do so.” He held up a hand. “Rest assured, I have the remainder of it secreted away, so that you may partake when you’re able.”
Was right nice of him. Vin didn’t have much of a taste for the “finer things,” but a good glass of whiskey with friends weren’t never a bad thing.
“Nathan?” Vin really was dead keen to find out what Nathan had gotten him.
Ezra grinned, seeming really pleased. “Apparently, Nathan had a bit of a talk with Mrs. Potter and discovered that I had been admiring a butler’s tray she had in her possession.” Vin had no idea what that was, and he guessed it showed on his face. “It’s a tray to put on your dresser, with places for your watch, your money clip, what have you, so that it is always in its place when not on your person.” His eyes became slightly dreamy and Vin chuckled. “Laugh if you wish, Mr. Tanner. Carved of rosewood in a lovely magnolia pattern…” He sighed. “It was beautiful gift. My watch will look considerably less tawdry placed within it.”
Vin had, sadly, finished his grits and the soft, tasty cornbread that went with it. Ezra dutifully cleared his friend’s lap.
“What do you say to the pie?” Ezra asked.
Talk of that butler’s whatever left Vin the perfect opening. “I could do that. Would you do me a favor, though, and open my saddlebag first?”
Ezra weren’t stupid. He knew when he opened the bag and saw that little box that it had to be for him. Vin was kind of tickled that he went through the formal stuff anyway. Must have been the Southern in him.
“For me, I presume?” He didn’t open it, but inspected the box. Vin had dusted it off, but sadly, it didn’t make it any less smashed.
“Box got a little squashed out by the Avery place. What’s inside made it through okay, though.”
Ezra grinned a little suspiciously and opened it. Vin guessed him freezing when he put his hand on it was probably a good thing. Was hard to tell with Ezra.
“I remembered when that gambler from Pittsburgh come through over the summer,” he explained. “You took a shine to his, I could tell. This one ain’t gold or nothing, but…”
“It’s beautiful, Vin,” Ezra breathed. “Absolutely beautiful.” He pulled the money clip out of the box and examined it. Made of ebony with silver on the edges, it had a fox carved in the center of it, filled in with more silver.
Vin’d caught Ezra staring at the fancy gold one that gambler had had, and Ezra had said they were wonderful complements to a true gentleman’s wardrobe, but he’d never “procured” one for himself.
“Figure it’ll look right nice in that butler’s tray thing of yours,” Vin said, smiling because he knew he’d done good with this present, too. He wasn’t bad at gift giving, he decided. “Seemed to go with your wardrobe, too. Complement it, you know?”
Ezra slid his playing cash out of his waistcoat pocket—was a nice coincidence that he was wearing his black and silver one tonight—and slipped the money clip on to it, grinning like a four year old the whole time. “Perfect!” he proclaimed, showing it off against the matching waistcoat. “As you say, a perfect match for my wardrobe.”
“Yep.” Vin was getting uncomfortable with the look Ezra was giving him. Maybe Maude really hadn’t bothered with birthdays much, because he sure seemed too thankful for thought-over gifts. “You said there was pie?”
Ezra chuckled and walked to the desk. “I did, indeed.” He returned to the bed with two plates and two forks. Vin took his first bite of the sweet treat and smiled.
“Many happy returns, Ezra.”
“Thank you, Vin,” Ezra replied, all smiles. “Thank you very much.”
***
The End