Author Comment: This is more of a thank you note, than a comment. So here goes: Thanks to the PKP Production staff for all their help and encouragement <g>. Huge thanks to my betas Karen and SasseyJ, who redeemed my episode from grammatical death. You guys are superbe! Giant thanks to Lady Angel for all her kind messages - kept me on track. And lastly thanks to Brigitta for supplying a 'no-details' bet for the boys - I'm sure Ezra will thank you for it too <g>.
INFANT CURIOSITIES
By: Rhicy
Starring:
Darwin Jones: Cameron Daddo (FX: The Series)
Gill Jones: Drew Barrymore (Bad Girls, Charlie's Angels)
Sean O'Malley: Christian Bale (American Psycho, Little Women)
The absence of the usual cloud of dust formed by dozens of feet and hooves made the early morning both a pleasure and a nuisance. It was a pleasure, since one's carefully groomed attire might stay clean and dust free awhile longer than it would during the heat of the day's traffic. However, it was taxing in the regard that one was required to arise at such an ungodly hour in order to enjoy the blessings of said 'dust-free' air. Well, at least Ezra Standish considered but one of numerous failings the dawn light embodied. However, the estimable Ezra P Standish was not currently in Four Corners to complain about the 'ungodly' hour nor the need to arise at said hour. Buck Wilmington had the distinct pleasure of ensuring the grumpy gambler was astride his steed, fulfilling their mission in a distant town, far away.
Which was just as well, since the rest of Four Corner's regulators had 'arisen' and were preparing to undertake their duties. Surprisingly, they were not alone in their early start as the sound of a hammer pounded through the rising sunlight. The Bronson family, newly-arrived from Pennsylvania, were attending to much needed repairs to their new abode. The problem was that Jacob Bronson was a terrible handyman and doing more harm than good. The fixed shingles and overhangs of his newly acquired establishment were poorly made and lay at such odd angles they seemed to be impersonating a woodpile rather than a roof. Josiah shook his head as he walked down the street towards the jail, wondering at the stubborn pride of a man who refused skilled help when it was obvious to everyone save himself, how badly it was needed.
Nathan descended the stairs from his clinic, also noting the haphazard repairs, but soon turned his attention to the horses in front of the jail. A disgruntled prisoner was slumped in his saddle, scowling as Vin checked the ropes securing his hands to the saddle horn. Chris was double-checking saddlebags and supplies on the horses.
JD was standing on the jail porch, his rifle pointed squarely at Darwin Jones, convicted murderer and robber. Jones had been sentenced to life imprisonment after a mysterious benefactor had persuaded the judge to suspend the usual hanging in favour of jail time. Jones belonged to the Hugh Fredericks' gang who remained at large somewhere in the wide expanses of New Mexico and Texas.
Judge Travis had offered the services of the Seven in helping to transport Jones to Hollow Bluff, where the next set of guards would continue the journey to Texas. Chris and Vin had been selected to escort the prisoner, hoping that Tanner's tracking abilities and Larabee's reputation would dissuade any attempts to free Jones. With Buck and Ezra out of town, Nathan, Josiah and JD were to stay in town and fulfill their peacekeeper obligations.
"Y'all are gonna regret this. Shoulda just let me go, 'stead of wasting time. My boy's are comin' and they are gonna make you sorry!"
Vin ignored Jones and continued to wind the rope binding Jones' ankles in a complicated weave around leather and metal.
"Damn breed!"
JD didn't see the smile on Vin's face but he did see the answering grin on Chris' as he grabbed the reins of Jones' horse, and tied them to his own saddle horn.
"What the hell's the matter with you boy! I'm talking to you! You as stupid as them injuns too?"
Vin merely mounted his horse, covering Jones as Chris mounted. JD was surprised that the pair of regulators were taking Darwin Jones' abuse. Vin and Chris were not usually the type who let insults slide. Well, maybe Vin if there was reason to - but not Chris. Josiah and Nathan joined JD on the porch, their own guns clearly visible.
"How soon can we expect you back?" Nathan asked Chris, his eyes remaining solely on the gunslinger. Resolutely, he ignored Jones' snide remark about darkey healers.
"Couple of days. Three at the most."
The trio nodded and watched as Chris led Jones out of town, Vin trailing behind. As soon as Jones was out of earshot, JD blurted, "Why the hell were they so polite to that guy? Chris let into Lucas James just for calling him a cowboy! Jones called Chris a yella-belly drunk, and Chris just ... kept doing what he was doin'."
"Well, there are three reasons, son. One being that the Judge asked that Jones be brought in relatively unmarked. Secondly, the only sure-fire way of shutting a blow hard like that up - other than a broken jaw or gag - is to ignore him. I'm sure the gag will come out soon."
"And the third reason?" JD asked, tipping his rifle in the direction of the trio.
"What else! A bet," Nathan supplied.
"Huh?"
"Before he left, Ezra bet Vin and Chris that neither of them would last more than two days without either threatening or shooting Jones at least once."
"What was the bet?"
"You know that the livery stables needs a thorough cleaning, right? Well, if Chris and Vin win, Ezra has to clean them out, but if Ez wins, they do."
JD laughed, picturing Ez actually performing manual labour. "What brought all this on?"
"Not what son, who!"
"Who?"
"Buck."
"Damnit to hell, Ezra! Can't you let me win once?"
"Now, Mr. Wilmington, if I allowed you the momentary satisfaction of triumphing over my exceptional skills, you would only become even more morose when your unenviable loosing streak re-occurred. I hate to disappoint you, Buck, but I cannot condone the melancholy wails that would undoubtedly assail my auditory senses. Besides, it's is not my fault you are an abysmal poker player."
"Not your fault! Not your fault! Ezra it's only been since I met you that my poker skills reached 'abysmal' lows. I was doin' just fine before I met you."
Ezra's skeptical grin as he shuffled the cards back into the deck, only made Buck madder. "As if losing to you wasn't bad enough, I have to lose to you in this stinking HELL-HOLE!"
Buck was waving his arms around to encompass Vista City's fine saloon and boarding house. The only building of it's kind in the fair municipality of Vista City, the Dusty Wench was ... well, dusty. And dirty, rather smelly and definitely in need of repair. Creaking doors and windows were not the chief complaint issued by disgruntled guests. Chief on the list was the rats and cockroaches, which often fought for space in the beds and chairs. The vermin seemed reluctant to share their own version of paradise, even with the trappers and drifters who were just as vile and disgusting as them.
Ezra had actually conceded that sleeping outdoors was preferable to sleeping in the Dusty Wench. The filth may have been on top of Ezra's list of reasons not to re-visit Vista City, but it was not the headliner on Buck's. Buck Wilmington, scoundrel-extrodinaire, lover of women and wooer of damsels, was dismayed to the point of despair to discover that only 12 women resided within the boundaries of Vista City. The first was a wizened old hag who ran the general store and the second was a solitary spinster of indeterminate age and definite homeliness. The 10 other female residents were all gathered in the nunnery across town - locked away from the likes of Buck Wilmington and all other men. Without the usual diversion of feminine company, Buck had to make do with Ezra - something the dapper gambler was not pleased about. However, Ezra soon resigned himself to Buck's company when the prospect of adding contributions to the Ezra P Standish Fund for Wayward Gamblers proved even slimmer than Buck's chances with the Mother Superior.
The two gloomy regulators had entertained themselves whilst waiting for a letter for Judge Travis to arrive with innumerable games of poker and copious amounts of very bad, well-watered whiskey. Since Buck had quickly run out of cash, the pair had progressed to betting 'vouchers' in their games. As it stood, Buck would own nothing when he returned to Four Corners, have to perform all of Ezra's assigned law-keeping duties, and, at some time or the other, pay Ezra over $100.
"I ain't giving you my horse, Ez!"
"Now Buck, we both agreed to the terms and stakes of the game. I won fair and square."
"My ass! I hoped all this 'ambiance' would throw you off. But nooo, Ezra Standish can play anywhere! Even here!"
"Ambiance?"
The rapidly developing argument was interrupted by the arrival of a man, his clothes, colour and age all obscured by the layers of dust that covered every inch of him. Creating his own dust-devil as he strode into the saloon, he approached Buck and Ezra's table, a grimy hand reaching inside what could only be considered a jacket. Ezra managed to scoot out of the way in time, but Buck received a face full of dirt and flying debris as the messenger deposited a surprisingly clean letter on the table.
Sputtering to remove the dust from his face, Buck missed the mysterious man's departure while Ezra gingerly retrieved the letter. Written clearly in cursive print was the name, 'Judge Orrin Travis.' Flipping the envelope over to see if there was a return address, Ezra noted the finely scripted words on the back.
M. Williams
59 Kingston Avenue
Kansas City
Buck snatched the letter from Ezra, still coughing from the dust and read aloud the return address.
"Kingston Avenue... hmm... rings a bell."
"Please, Mr. Wilmington, refrain from flapping about like that. You are only spreading the airborne menace around."
Giving his jacket a mighty thump and raising up his own cloud of dust, Buck waved the envelope in front of him, chuckling slightly at Ezra's snort of disgust.
"Kingston - kingston. Kings Ton. Kings Town. Town King. Town House. House Maid. Maid to Order." Wagging his eyebrows, Buck gave Ezra a marvelous impersonation of the cat that ate the canary.
"You know what Ez? I know who, or should I say, where this here letter is from."
"Really, please do not keep me in suspense - I eagerly await your fascinating wisdom," Ezra mumbled, trying to flick the dust off his red jacket.
"This letter, Ezra, is from a very well known house in Kansas City. Not the usual house a judge would be seen to visit - although I'm sure many have." Noting an exasperated look on Ezra's face as the gambler prepared to deny what Buck was insinuating, Buck quickly continued. "Trust me on this one, Ezra. I know ... both Chris and I have visited this particular 'house.' At least twice!"
Vin urged Unalie towards Chris, the black gelding's lope extending into a quick stride. A gust of wind snapped the tracker's buckskin jacket back, the fringed tendrils streaming behind in a jostled dance. Tiny clouds of dust exploded beneath Unalie's hooves as the animal gracefully cantered towards the pair of riders. The jingle and snap of reins and bit turned the gunslinger's head and Chris watched as Vin guided his horse to a gentle amble, finally matching pace with prisoner and escort.
"Problem?"
"Could be."
Chris reined in his horse and stopped next to Vin. Jones' horse ambled forward, until Unalie lashed out with a hind hoof, warning the interloper away. The bound and gagged prisoner grunted in discomfort when his steed suddenly backed away, throwing him against the saddle pommel. Hands lashed together, Jones struggled to push himself back in the saddle, glaring at his 'escorts' all the while.
Chris glanced briefly at the back trail before turning to Vin. Without meeting the gaze, Vin replied, "We've picked up a tail."
"Anyone we should be worried about?"
Vin smiled mysteriously and shook his head, his grin making the piece of straw in his mouth wave about like a flag. Chris narrowed his eyes suspiciously, 'What was tickling Vin's funny bone this time?'
"Who is it?" Chris tried again, now eyeing their backtrail as if he might spy the unwelcome guest.
"Reckon we'll know soon enough." Vin's eyes were practically slits of blue, as he laughed silently at Larabee's confusion and frustration.
"Damn it, Tanner. Just spill it!"
Vin grabbed the straw from between his teeth and used it to point up the trail. There in the distance, a dim shape could be seen. The figure appeared to be a man on horseback.
"How'd he get ahead of us?" Chris demanded, reaching to loosen his gun.
"Asked 'em to wait up ahead. Didn't want any loose trigger fingers making snap decisions," Vin drawled, amusement oozing from his lips.
A pair of raised eyebrows was all the response Vin got and the chuckling tracker spurred Unalie to take the lead, before Chris reacted with more than a 'glare'.
The trio rode at a quick pace towards the waiting horseman and as they drew nearer, Chris began to mutter under his breath. It became apparent that the horseman was actually a horsewoman - a pregnant horsewoman to be exact. 'What was the damn fool thinking? We ain't got time for this.'
Jones sat up straighter in his saddle as the woman's features became discernible, his eyes immediately flicking towards the nearby hills and trees. His furtive movements did not go unnoticed by Tanner, who shot a knowing look at Chris.
"Found her wandering two miles to the east, trying to follow the false trail I laid down. She's his wife," Vin explained.
Stunned silence emanated from both Chris and Darwin Jones. Chris was shocked that Vin had brought her to them while Jones seemed shocked that Vin didn't seem to care that he'd given away their position.
"Her name's Gill Jones and she's due any day."
Shaking his head in amazement, Chris wondered why he wasn't surprised. There was no way a man like Vin was going to let a pregnant lady wander in the woods. Vin would risk his neck for any kind of mother - animal or human. Hell, any kind of lady or person in need fell under Vin's protection. Even if it cost the tracker dearly later as evidenced by the three parallel scars Vin bore on his left arm, where any angry she-wildcat had thanked Vin for rescuing her babies.
'And what kind of a man does that make me?' Chris thought to himself and Vin's dry voice startled him out of his reverie with the words, "A good man, pard." Shocked green eyes met assuring blue ones as Vin grinned and closed the gap between the two parties.
Gill Jones was a pretty young thing, blonde hair and fair complexion enhanced by the blue dress she wore, her middle swollen and looking fit to burst. She sat sidesaddle on her bay mare; a genuine smile graced her face at the sight of her husband.
Her smile faltered somewhat at the frown on Chris Larabee's face, his hand curled aggressively on his gun, sharp green eyes studying the surrounding hills. Vin tipped his hatbrim to the lady, receiving a warm smile in response.
"Ma'am."
"We ain't got time for this Vin."
Vin backed Unalie into Chris's horse, keeping the regulators horses between husband and wife, and bent close to Chris, their hatbrims nearly touching.
"We can't leave her wandering behind us, telling anyone looking fer us where we're at. Might as well keep her with us, and make sure she gets to the next town."
Chris scowled but could not disagree with Vin. "What makes you think there's anybody else behind us?"
Vin shrugged noncommittally but Larabee knew the signal well. Tanner wasn't sure, but his instincts obviously hinted at additional pursuers. He just wasn't about to voice those concerns with Jones in hearing distance.
"Got a plan?"
"Yep."
"Good."
Chris straightened up and caught Gill Jones' eye. "You can come with us, but don't try anything."
"Wouldn't think of it sir." Gill Jones' voice was high and flighty, and Larabee's growing glare seemed to add a slight quaver to the 'sir'.
"Vin, take point."
Vin nodded and rode directly north, taking the foursome in a new direction.
"Whatcha doin' son?"
"Huh?"
JD lowered the book he had been engrossed in and blinked owlishly at Josiah.
"I asked what you were reading, JD?"
"Oh ... ah ... some short story Ezra gave me. It's about a detective who uses ... hold on ... ah yeah ... deduction to solve crimes." JD's enthusiasm was brimming as he clutched the book to his chest.
"Deduction?" Josiah rumbled, planting his considerable size on the desk next to JD's feet on the jail's desk.
"Uh huh! Deduction. You know, figuring out who the murderer is by following the clues."
"You mean like asking people what they saw and finding the weapon."
JD squirmed in the seat and muttered, "Sorta. It's more complicated than that. He studies stuff like cups and people's boots, their accents, fingernails and pocketwatchs. Why in one story he even figured out who the murderer was from studying a guy's scarf!"
"Sounds real interesting, JD. You gonna ride out to see Casey today?"
Josiah noticed a distinct blush growing on JD's face, as the young man buried his head back in his book.
" - no-" came the muffled reply.
"Any particular reason why not?"
JD shook his head. Josiah reached over and pulled the book away from the young man's face. His clear blue eyes noted the embarrassed set of JD's shoulders, and the young man's downcast posture. 'Kid looks like a turtle, neck pulled in like that.'
"Want to talk about it?"
Again, JD shook his head and tried to lift his book back up, but Josiah's hold kept the book in place and the Preacher noted the author, 'Edgar Allan Poe.'
"Please, Josiah?"
Josiah nodded and allowed JD to return the book to its place in front of his face, effectively hiding him from the world. "My door's always open, JD."
A little shrug was JD's reply and as Josiah lifted his large frame off the desk, he realised the kid had already disappeared into his literary diversion. 'Can't hide forever, John Dunne.'
An unusual silence hung over the pair returning to Four Corners. Dusty and tired, Buck and Ezra had wasted no time in leaving Vista City. Their mutually disappointing experience in the previous town was however, not the cause of the current pall of silence over the two regulators. Rather it was the sullen silence that usually followed a heated argument.
Apparently, Buck was not done arguing. "Ezra, come on! Just let me open the letter and see who's writing to the Judge. The suspense is killing me!"
"I wish it would kill your ability to form coherent sentences. The answer is still the same as it has, will be and continues to be - NO! The Judge has a right to his privacy and we will honour that right."
Buck shifted in his saddle, easing protesting muscles, and considered nagging Ezra until the gambler gave in just to shut him up, but the dangerous glint in Ezra's green eyes was a little too reminiscent of Chris Larabee for Buck to push it.
Ezra however, had his own pressing concerns to ponder. He had initially stopped Buck from opening the letter to thwart the mustached man in his goal, but now Ezra had to face a quandary of his own.
He really wanted to open that letter!
"There's a good place about mile up ahead."
Chris carefully studied the darkening sky and the growing breeze that blew his horse's mane in a tangle of black strands. He could feel the winds mischievous tug on his black duster, eager to whip it free and blow the cloth like a billowing flag.
"Is this wind gonna get much worse?"
Vin answered with a negative headshake, the wind partly blowing the words out of his mouth as the tracker turned to check the way forward. "Not tonight. But tomorrow it's really gonna blow."
Gill Jones was trying to get nearer to her husband, her blonde hair obscuring her face, as the yellow strands escaped her bonnet, providing an irritating mask across her face.
"Ma'am, just follow me," Vin said, grabbing the halter of Gill's horse and stopping her from moving closer to her husband. Chris took charge of Darwin Jones, his gag still firmly in place. Despite Chris' gloomy prediction that Mrs. Jones would be nothing but a trial - she had remained silent the entire trip, sneaking glances at her husband occasionally.
Darwin, on the other hand, had completely ignored his wife. He reserved his stares for either Chris or the surrounding hills, and shot even more venomously glares at Vin when the young tracker returned from his scouting.
As Vin led the way to their night's camp, the growing wind seemed to herald the increasing darkness. Trees bent themselves in response to the gusty force. Leaves and branches escaped the tattered treetops, to fly through the air. The tall summer-heralding grasses where bent double, their usual golden colours darkened to a mahogany as the sun set. Clouds raced across the horizon, casting freakish shadows on the previously ordinary landscape.
Chris shut his eyes to tiny slits and squinted on the only moving object that mattered - Vin and Unalie. Blindly following his best friend, Chris trusted Vin to lead them even though he could now barely see a thing.
All of a sudden the wind died and the rising chill of the night was cut off. Shaking his head to clear the sudden silence of the howling wind, Chris saw that Vin had led their little group into a sheltered hollow. Rough rock hillside rose up on one side, immediately bracketed by a closely-knit copse of trees. The hill and copse were ideally situated to protect them from the westerly wind, creating a warm respite from the growing fury.
Chris unsaddled the horses while Vin pulled three dressed rabbits, flour and corn, a skillet and a bowl from his saddlebags and proceeded to make corn fitters.
Gill Jones tried to offer her help, but Vin refused, seating her across the fire from her husband, near the rock sides, where some of the day's heat was still captured in the rock.
"Jus' you sit there ma'am. No need to help."
As Chris moved towards the campfire, Jones tried to take his gun. Black cloth blended with night shadow as Chris' arm snaked down in the blink of an eye, capturing Jones' wandering hands. Taking advantage of the fact that Jones had his weight all one on hip, Chris pushed the outlaw backwards. Jones fell onto his back, unable to stop his momentum.
Chris itched to threaten the sneering outlaw, but Ezra's bet loomed in his mind and he bit his tongue. Vin's dancing eyes and barely hidden smile, did not help matters. 'Damn gambler - what possessed me to take that stupid bet?' Only the thought of the slick gambler shoveling horse manure and washing down the filthy stables turned the tide of Chris' anger. Instead Chris placed a booted foot squarely on Jones' chest, preventing him from sitting up. The black clad gunslinger stood still for a few moments allowing his message to be very clear, 'Don't try anything.' Jones grunted finally and Chris moved towards the horses while Jones pulled himself up.
After bedding down four horses and preparing a sumptuous meal, a tense dinner began. Vin had somehow whipped up gravy; sweet potatoes and wild onions to add to a delicious rabbit strew, with corn fritters to sop up the tasty brown sauce. Gill Jones packed away the meal and complimented Vin on his culinary skills. Chris gave his friend a wink in thanks for the excellent repast, helping himself to the last corn fritter.
Unfortunately Darwin Jones' gag had to be removed in order for him to eat. Jones had nothing pleasant to say about the meal, describing it as the worst crud he had ever eaten. Mouth wide open, spitting little corn bits as he muttered and stuttered his complaints, Darwin Jones declared the meal to be fit only for dogs and pigs - "Hell not even them, I wouldn't feed it to a nigger cur." That last remark earned Jones a hefty swat upside the head, and his wife's fierce glare. Despite his complaints, Jones ate everything put in front of him and even licked his plate clean.
Flicking the plate into the dirt with a contemptuous leer, Jones drawled insolently at Vin, "Go on, woman! Wash up, like a good little missus. Else Larabee here might decide to get himself a new whore."
Before either regulator could respond, Gill Jones stood up and crossed the camp in two swift steps. Slapping her husband's face, the sharp retort drowned out the sound of the howling wind beyond the hollow. "Darwin Eugene Jones, you keep that filthy mouth shut! I cain't believe I heard that coming outta your piehole! You keep such language up, and I will help Mr. Larabee gag you!"
Vin and Chris exchanged surprised glances over the fire, Vin's shrug of amazement making Chris grin.
"I can not believe I followed you all over just so this here baby could have his pa nearby when he's born! Why in tarnation I put up with you, I have no idea - you sure ain't the man I thought I was marrying! All fine and dandy when you come acourtin' but once ya get me home, well ... expect me to be your little sappy missus. I learned you quick, boy!"
Gill's language was a mixture of common, coarse words and educated diction. Obviously, someone had tried to teach this wildcat ladylike behavior. It apparently hadn't stuck - especially when she got riled. Her tirade grew in volume and Darwin blushed as his wife continued to scold him.
"Traipsing all the country, looking fer ya. And heaven forbid I actually find you outta trouble. I worked damn hard to get you that reprieve and you are gonna behave. Understand?"
Darwin Eugene Jones nodded somberly, abashed into submission. "Now apologise to Vin. He rustled up some damn fine eatin's."
Chris mouthed 'damn fine eatin's to Vin, who quickly hid his answering grin as Gill turned to him, plainly waiting for her husband to comply.
"Sorry."
Gill seemed to be satisfied, apparently aware that this would be the best she could get out of her husband. "Okay, thank you honey." Gill helped her husband to his feet and then sat him down on his bedroll. Her midriff was so large she had trouble standing up again and would have toppled over had Vin's steadying hands not caught her.
Only holding her long enough to let her get her balance, Vin stepped back, and tipped his hat to the lady. Darwin Jones had noticed the gentle touch and glared fiercely at Vin.
Chris gathered up the dishes and washed them in the stream running nearby. Jones remained silent and soon appeared to be asleep. Vin provided Gill with some privacy behind a sheltered bush and tree, a ground tarp stretched across the opening. Then, the outlaw's wife prepared for the night.
A short while later the pair of best friends were seated at the far end of the camp, one slightly turned to face the camp, the other facing the windy night. Mrs. Jones was fast asleep on her bedroll, while Darwin was snoring in snorts and spurts.
"Did ya expect her to be such a spitfire?"
"Surprised the hell outta me."
Chris chuckled at Vin's sly grin. "Imagine Buck meeting up with her on a bad night."
"She musta had a passel of brothers to teach her how to act like that."
"Yep and a despairing father trying to get her all ladylike."
"Despairing? Hell Vin, you've been hanging around Ezra too long."
"Weren't Ezra."
"No?" Vin shook his head, his hatbrim hiding his face momentarily.
"Was that pretty lady you're so fond of."
Bright blue eyes twinkled through the shadows of firelight on Vin's face as he winked at Chris.
"Shut up," Chris growled, as Vin stood to avoid any retaliation.
"I'll take first watch, Cowboy."
"You sure will, .... Cowboy."
The cave was silent, despite the raging wind outside. Ezra checked Buck's slumbering figure again. The Judge's letter was safely stowed away in Ezra's saddlebags but Buck had settled himself as close as he could to the bags, perhaps in an effort to get at them once Ezra was asleep.
The gambler was thus still wide-awake, while Buck slept, or maybe pretended to sleep, waiting for Ezra to go to sleep. Ezra, however, was waiting for confirmation that Buck was indeed fast asleep so that he could open the letter without Buck knowing.
An enormous snore ripped through the cave and Buck turned over exposing his back to the fire and Ezra. At last satisfied that Buck was truly asleep, Ezra leaned over and snatched up his saddlebags.
Keeping one wary eye on Buck, Ezra reached into the unseen recesses of the bag. Stiff, rough paper greeted his questing fingers as Ezra pulled the letter out. The Judge's name flickered in the light, and Ezra's heart began to beat a little faster at the prospect of finally satisfying his curiosity.
Another tremendous snore from Buck startled Ezra causing him to shoot a frightened look at his companion, making his heart beat even faster than before. Ezra handled the envelope; his nimble fingers running the letter through his hands. Now that he had the letter at his disposal, the fancy gambler faced a sudden attack of conscience. This was a private letter after all and ... well; his reasoning with Buck could still be applied to him.
Ezra continued to study the envelope; and curiosity finally winning out, he pulled the coffeepot nearer. Tilting the letter over the rising steam, Ezra watched as the wet, hot steam began to wrinkle the paper and lift the seal.
"P for persuasive huh? More like 'pinching'!" Buck's voice booming suddenly in the silence of the cave.
Ezra lost his hold on the letter. Fumbling to keep the damp letter from the close embers, Ezra raised a shaky hand and clutched his chest trying to still his racing heart.
"Buck. DON'T DO THAT!"
Buck snatched the letter from Ezra's weak grasp, shaking his head and tut tutting, making his mustache dance a little jig on his lip. "After an afternoon of telling how private this here letter is, now I find you trying to open it. Shame on you, Ezra, shame on you."
Buck's delighted smile was one of pure devilment as Ezra struggled to find the words to explain his actions. "Now Mr. Wilmington, it may have appeared that I was trying to open the letter but rest assured I was simply ... ah ... uhm ... trying to ... ahh ...determine if .... Ahhh ... any other ... attempts .... may have been made ... by nefarious enemies of Judge Travis to ... uhm ... tamper with important and ...very private documents ... thereby providing a means to ... blackmail our fine employer."
Ezra's voice faded near the end as Buck's smile got bigger and bigger. "Like you were trying to do."
Pure indignation exploded from Ezra. "I WAS NOT! How dare you insinuate that I would lower myself to blackmailing Judge Travis. I was merely curious as you yourself confessed to be. So just pass that written correspondence over and both our curiosities will be satisfied."
Ezra gestured for Buck to hand back the letter but the laughing scoundrel placed the letter in his own saddlebags and firmly said, "Nope. You were right - Judge Travis deserves some privacy and, well ... it just wouldn't feel right reading someone else's mail. You should be ashamed of yourself, Ez."
"ME!" another indignant squeak rose, "You were the one arguing so vehemently about friends having no secrets and sharing the wealth. It's a little late to start calling me a black pot, Mr. Kettle!"
Two beetle black eyebrows met over Buck's blue eyes and tried to figure out what Ezra said. "Huh? Don't try and confuse me Ezra - just admit you're wrong and we'll call it even."
"WRONG!" Ezra laughed angrily, shaking a determined finger at Buck who was lounging on his bedroll enjoying the spectacle of Ezra in full verbal barrage mode. The words swirled around Buck in a magnificent maze of insults and slights, Ezra rising to the occasion and reaching previously unattained states of verbosity. Mid sentence, Ezra paused and took in the amused grin and exhaled sharply. "Only you Mr. Wilmington seem to bring out such theatrics in me. Let's just forget about it - all right?"
Apparently serious, Buck deadpanned, "Sure, Ez. Then you get to tell Chris why the Judge's letter is half-opened and burnt on one corner."
The look on Ezra's face was priceless, and Buck's booming laughter echoed in the small cave, the wind blowing the sounds of merriment across the night covered plains.
The little town of Four Corners lay wrapped in the folds of night, quietly slumbering despite the fierce winds that raced through the streets and alleyways. All the residents of the small cow town were wrapped safely indoors, dreaming away the blustery night. Well, all save one.
JD was burning the midnight oil as a small lamp lit the pages he was engrossed in, their words drawing him into a city half way across the world. Down cobbled streets and misty alleys JD followed the intrepid detective as they tracked down the killer.
The unholy shriek that split the air sent JD tumbling from the damp streets of London onto the dusty floor of a New Mexico jail. Another unearthly howl sounded, this time raising every hair on the young man's body.
Picking himself up, JD opened the jail door and stepped onto the porch. Immediately the wind hit him with it's full force and momentarily blinded him as it blew his long black hair into his eyes. Pulling the obscuring locks from his face, JD heard another spine-chilling howl. Peering up and down the street, JD noticed that both the Church and Saloon doors where wide open as the now wide awake occupants of Four Corners stared out into the dark night, searching for the source of the shrieks.
Josiah's hulking but comforting form soon joined JD on the porch and the pair waited for the howl to be repeated. Again, the streets were filled with the unearthly noise, but it didn't come from any one direction. It echoed through the whole town.
"Where's it coming from?"
"What is it?"
JD and Josiah blurted their questions at the same time, and both shrugged in the negative, unable to pinpoint the source or direction.
"We'd better check it out!"
"Yep."
The wind finally died down just before dawn and the approaching morning took a relieved breath and began to break. No sun was in sight yet, but the eastern horizon was changing from a solid black into a dull, silver gray, a white tinge peeking the very edge.
Vin Tanner watched the coming dawn, his back to the low campfire. Three huddled figures lay wrapped in blankets, and Vin lifted his hand from the warmth of inside his hide-coat, to touch the cool ground beneath him. The wind had sucked the earth dry, and Vin doubted if there would be dew come sunrise. Despite the approaching summer, Vin's outer jacket was cold to the touch and the Texan was looking forward to some coffee.
In the quiet time between night and day, a peaceful stillness lay over the country. No wind to rustle the leaves, no passing animals to slip through the grass making their way home. All lay quiet.
A distinct moan of distress brought his head up sharply. Mrs. Jones clutched her stomach, and uttered another groan, her face tightened by the onslaught of pain. Chris lifted a disheveled head, his hair standing on end in a multitude of directions but no trace of sleep or confusion on the gunslinger's face. Sharp green eyes took in the situation immediately.
Before Gill could groan again, the two peacekeepers were at her side. Chris knelt and laid a cautious hand on Gill's stomach. "It's coming!" she hissed through clenched teeth.
"This your first?"
Gill nodded and took a deep breath before the next contraction started. "It's happening awfully quick," Vin pointed out placing his and Chris' rolled bedrolls behind Gill.
"Some women start real sudden - Mrs. Jones here seems to be one of 'em."
"Hate to say it Chris, but this is one of those times I wish I were here with Nathan insteada you."
Chris grunted and helped Gill settle onto the raised bedrolls, her breathing quickening as the labour continued. Darwin Jones remained fast asleep, wrapped tightly in his blanket.
"You done this before?"
Chris' question stopped Vin in his tracks, as the Texan bent to stir the fire up, trying to warm the chilly pre-dawn air. "What? Aint' you done this before?"
Chris shook his head. "Was there when Sarah's labour started, then she kicked me out when the midwife arrived. I've birthed calves and foals plenty atimes, guess I could manage. You?"
Vin shrugged with one shoulder slightly higher than the other, his face unreadable. "Indian womenfolk just do it themselves - ain't a place for a man. But I helped a friend of mine's wife when I was buffalo hunting - twice."
"Twins?"
"Nope."
Chris mock-frowned at Vin to see if he was joking but the tracker was serious. "Her man's name didn't happen to be Coney did it?"
"Matter of fact it was."
"Do you boys mind! I'm having a baby here!" The beleaguered woman's voice rose like a shrill siren drawing the two men's attention back to her.
"Not just yet ma'am, you got some time yet."
"I don't know, Chris. The contractions are kinda close." Vin's face was hidden in the lingering darkness.
Chris paused and then asked quietly, "You wanna check?"
Not even the darkness could hide the blush on Vin's face, but he nodded and said, "Might as well if I'm gonna deliver the baby."
"Do I have a say in this?"
Gill looked very put out, "I am not some cow you all are discussing - might look it at times - but I do gotta a say on who does what."
Chris cleared his throat and turned his head away, hiding the slight flush, but Vin just blushed again and apologised, "Sorry ma'am. What do you want us to do?"
Mollified, Gill grimaced through her next contraction before continuing. "First you boys can get cleaned up. Four hands are better than two. Second, you'll need a lota clean blankets and stuff. Third, you can wake up my butt lazy husband. He ain't missin' the birth of his son."
Chris smiled and stood, stretching his long dark frame like a living shadow. "I'll get the father-to-be up. You get some water boiling Vin."
Chris walked the few steps towards Jones, surprised the man had slept through the noise. Chris toed the still form, urging the outlaw to wake up. "Get up, Jones."
Darwin had slept near the small copse of trees while Chris and Gill had slept closer to the rock face, using it to protect them from the wind. The small copse was swathed in blackness, none of the wane pre-dawn light penetrating the darkness.
Chris nudged Jones again, his push a lot firmer this time, "Get up, your wife's having her baby." Turned at a slight angle to the copse, Chris didn't see the elongated shadow that stepped from the murky depths and placed a gun barrel to the back of his head.
Instantly Chris froze, the cold metal pressing against his upper neck. A gravel rough voice directed at Vin hissed behind Chris. "Reach for it, friend, and blondie here will bite the dust. Drop the piece."
After several long seconds passed, Chris heard Vin put his sawed-off Winchester on the ground and step back towards Gill. Jones rolled out of his blankets in a tangle of legs and clothes. "'Bout time you got here, Earl. What took you so long?"
"Some sneaky son of a gun lead us false, laying tracks near clear all the way to Texas. It was only when I realised we shoulda found a camp a coon's age ago that I headed back. Pure luck I stumbled on y'all here. The rest of the boys are nearby, searching the area."
The bodiless voice remained out of Chris's sight, the gun firmly in place. Gill moaned again but neither regulator moved. Jones grinned with pleasure and moved towards Vin's mare's leg. Picking up the weapon, he fired it into the air. "Well, let's just get the rest of the gang over here. I'm about to be a daddy!"
An answering gunshot was heard to the north, another to the west. Chris felt the gun move swiftly from his head, to be buried between two ribs, painfully pressing against the muscle. "Hands on your head, mister."
Silently Chris complied, managing to turn himself as he did so to see the rest of the camp. Vin was standing between Gill and Darwin, his eyes darting from the Winchester pointed directly at him and the man covering Chris. Gill was strangely silent, unsure about the situation, her eyes.
"Get the hell away from my wife, " Jones snarled, waving the rifle toward Vin.
The Texan moved near the opening of the shelter before Jones could force him in another direction. The revolver tucked in his waistband, hidden by his leather jacket, was uppermost in the tracker's mind. He'd have to move quickly before the rest of the outlaw gang arrived.
Chris still couldn't see the man holding him captive, but he saw the message Vin sent in a brief eye contact. When Darwin momentarily glanced at his labouring wife as she tried to stand, Vin made his move.
Simultaneously Chris dropped to one knee as Vin fired at Earl, shooting the light-footed scout in the upper arm. Cursing, Earl dropped the gun and Chris snatched the weapon up, pointing it directly at Darwin. Jones, stunned by the lightning actions, suddenly found himself facing two angry and armed gunmen. Gulping, Jones eyed the lightened skyline trying to see his approaching gang. Vin, too, was searching with one eye hoping the approaching riders were still far away. With his attention divided between Darwin, who still had his Winchester pointed at Vin, and the distant horizon, Vin missed the slight movement of Earl raising a dull blade. Chris sensed the danger too late, having glanced at Darwin briefly; but still managed to turn in time to stop the knife from plunging into his back. Instead, the blade was thrust into his shoulder, scrapping against bone before burying itself to the hilt in the fleshy part of his upper arm.
Trying to switch the gun to his left hand, Chris couldn't stop the half-shout as Earl twisted the knife, Chris' knees buckling from the onslaught. Vin, now found himself with two firearms pointing directly at him, Darwin's aim roving across Vin's chest.
"Drop it, dog turd or Earl'll start carvin' up Larabee."
Vin hesitated, reluctant to part with his weapon and Earl viciously twisted the knife again, his vindictiveness unhindered by the seeping bullet hole in his upper right arm. The left hand was clamped onto Chris' shoulder, forcing the gunslinger to remain on his knees.
Chris couldn't seem to think beyond the poker-hot pain twisting in his shoulder. Desperately, Chris reached with his left hand trying to remove the source of the pain, the gun forgotten in his need. Earl let go of Chris' shoulder and caught the reaching hand, effectively immobilizing the lethal gunfighter by pulling the entire left arm behind Chris' back.
Heart pounding relentlessly in his ears, Chris couldn't hold back the scream as Earl ripped the knife out, twisting it again as he did so. Head swimming with pain, Chris didn't resist as Earl roughly pulled his right arm back as well, and tied Larabee's hands with rawhide. The harsh treatment only garnered an explosive grunt as Chris fought to regain his senses.
Chris struggled to push the surging agony away, and lifted his head to check on Vin. Through pain-dulled green-eyes, Chris realised they were no longer alone.
Somehow in the midst of the moment, part of the gang had arrived. Four additional men stood in the sheltered hollow; their dusky silhouettes were highlighted as the sun peaked on the eastern horizon.
Careful not to move his arm or right shoulder, Chris tried to find Vin's lanky form before him but a callused hand clamped onto his wound. Biting back the cry of pain, Chris continued to search the clearing, his blurry vision unable to distinguish the mass of figures in front of him.
'Where the hell are you, Vin?'
The sun had just fully cleared the hilltops when its yellow-dusted rays found a perturbed JD Dunne stalking through the streets of Four Corners. The young man had been unable to return to his interrupted reading since the first ear-splitting howl had awakened the whole town. After waiting for dawn to arrive, the young man was determined to solve the mystery.
Many of the stores were already open and it appeared that JD was not the only one to remain sleepless last night. With his bowler hat pulled down over his ears, JD stood in the middle of the empty main street and looked around, hoping to spot something unusual.
The detective in his story had looked for something out of place, and now JD bent his mind to trying to do the same. So involved in his study was the young man, that when a large hand was placed on his shoulder, JD just about jumped out of his skin.
"Relax, son. It's just me."
"Damn it, Josiah. Scare a body half to death!"
Brushing his shaky hands over his jacket to hide his trembling, JD glared at the tall preacher. Josiah sent a warm grin down to the young Easterner and patted the jittery shoulder. "Trying to solve the mystery?"
JD straightened his hat and nodded abruptly, "Trying to see what's out of place. What's different."
"Sounds like a good idea. Need any help?"
"Naaah! Thanks anyway Josiah."
The preacher left the young man and walked to the saloon for breakfast, his eyes catching Nathan moving in the same direction.
"Brother Nate."
"Josiah."
Nathan rubbed his hands together eagerly, "Hope Inez has something nice and hot cooking. I'm starved."
Josiah pushed Nathan in front of him through the saloon doors and said, "I'm sure she does."
Josiah's booming voice was cut off as the pair entered the saloon. Alone in the street JD tried to figure out a possible answer.
The newly arisen sun tried to pierce the gloomy depths of the cave, sending fingers of pink light into the confines of the shelter. One long-boned form slumbered on; it's wide-brimmed hat covering tender blue eyes from the questing sunshine.
The dawn sun found an early riser, one for whom it kissed with its noonday heat while the individual was up and about. Well perhaps about was too good a word. Awake could be better used to describe the grumpy riser. Wide-awake. And scheming.
Ezra lay beneath his bedroll, only his thoughtful face visible above the covers. Oblivious to the beauty around him, Ezra's mind was contemplating a different view. A quicksilver mind, elusive and nimble worried at the dapper gambler's problem. Plots and schemes were reviewed, considered, debated, and discarded at a rapid pace. The cause of all this mental activity slept blissfully unaware.
Try as Ezra might, he struggled to find a solution to his quandary. Successful plans of old were resurrected and dusted off, given new polish and life, only to be mentally crumpled up and thrown to the floor in disgust.
'Damn! There has to be some way to convince Buck to let me read that letter and to ensure his silence regarding my activities. The man is a nefarious blowhard without the common decency of keeping his exceptionally large mouth shut. Once we return to our fair municipality, every Thomas, Richard and Henry will know about my indiscretion, including the honorable Judge Travis and the indomitable Chris Larabee. While I do not doubt that I could bluff my way out of this mess, I'd rather not have two such powerful denizens to feel any animosity or ambiguity regarding my position. Lowering myself to mail-fraud is not an image I wish to cultivate.'
The con man's thoughts continued to whirl and twirl around, all the while avoiding the obvious. Ezra hated being caught out at anything.
Vin tried not to inhale any of the dirt as his face was roughly forced against the compact ground. A solid, weighty knee with a good 200 pounds behind it was pressing down on the small of his back, a meaty hand clenched on his neck, another grimy paw relentlessly twisting his left arm behind his back. The outlaw on top of the wiry tracker was breathing hard, and trying to wipe his bleeding nose on an available sleeve, grinding Vin's face harder in the dirt as he did so.
The four outlaw's arrival had sufficiently turned the tables on the regulators, and after a brief but fiercely fought struggle, sheer numbers immobilized Vin. He couldn't see Chris, since he head was turned in the opposite direction but the occasional grunt and painful gasp told the Texan all he needed to know. They were in serious trouble.
During all the commotion, Gill Jones had kept her groans to a minimum and when it became vividly apparent that her husband was now in charge of the situation, she directed her breathless shout at him.
"Darwin! Quit messing around and get over here!"
Darwin Jones took one look at his labouring wife and paled visibly. "Now hon, I ain't gonna be much help ..."
"I ain't doing this alone, Darwin. You're just as much a part of this as I am. Get over here!"
Darwin took a hasty step back from his wife and motioned Howard, a tall, rangy man, to tend his wife. "Go on, Howie - you birthed calves before. Help Gill out."
"I AM NOT having that lumbering ox fumbling his way through this, Darwin! Ain't any of you cowboys birthed a child?"
Earl sat near a bound Larabee; his half-breed features a stark contrast to the brilliant blue eyes that took in everything. Vin's bullet had passed clean through his arm; and George Foreman, a runt of a giant, his overlarge frame disproportionate to his tiny head and hands, was tending to Earl. Earl watched as the two outlaws helping themselves to a breakfast of leftovers, shook their heads at Gill's question. Joe, the younger of the pair of brothers gulped down his mouthful of cold rabbit and spluttered, "No, ma'am. Neither me or Howie here have ... well you know ... helped a lady ... like that." His brother continued munching steadily, his cheeks chipmunk full as if he was determined to get enough before it was too late.
Vin felt his captor shift and a deep voice rumbled above his head, "Ain't any of us with that kinda experience Mrs. Jones." Shifting his attention to Darwin, the muscle-bound outlaw addressed his boss, "You want that I should take care of this scrawny fella for you, Mr. Jones? Take the pair of 'em aways from here so as not to ... disturb your missus."
Darwin was about to answer, clearly pleased at the prospect of taking out the lawmen, when Gill's shrill voice split the air yet again. "Just one cotton-picking minute, Darwin Jones! Since none of you fine fellas are qualified to help me out here - and I aim to have a little assistance - considering I'm about to give birth in the middle of nowhere because of you, Darwin Eugene Jones - I'm gonna need them two alive and kicking!" Gill had managed to deliver her speech despite the contractions and a stunned silence greeted her initial demand.
"Gill - honey - you don't gotta settle for a pair of no-account lawdogs as your midwifes. 'Sides Larabee's hurt, ain't gonna be any use to you and I sure as hell ain't having that ... low-down yella-belly Indian lover - no offense Earl - anywhere near you. Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, we'll get by. Now, just let Bob ...."
"DARWIN!" Gill snapped, her brown eyes flashing in anger, "I don't care what you want. Right now I need 'em - both of 'em and I aim to have 'em. NOW!"
Vin tried to ignore the sharp little stone cutting into his cheek as the husband and wife continued to argue. His right hand was trapped beneath his body and Vin really wanted to get rid of the increasingly painful pressure on his lower back. Bob showed no inclination of letting up. Abruptly, Bob changed the angle of his knee, angling it higher and shoving Vin's ribcage against the ground. Vin tried to get a knee up and gain some leverage in order to toss his captor, but Bob leaned heavily onto his knee, all 200 pounds pressing against taut muscle and spine. Groaning in response, Vin nearly missed the end of the argument.
"Fine! You win! Bob, let the damn lawdog up."
Reluctantly, Bob removed his knee and jerked Vin to his feet. Maintaining his hold on Vin's arm, Bob pulled so far back that Vin swore it was about to break. Grimacing, Vin finally got a look at Chris. His partner was laying against the rock face, his arms tied firmly behind him. The half-breed Earl was guarding him.
The ugly mug of Darwin Jones stepped in front of Vin's line of sight and Jones got into Vin's face. "You listen up dirt-pile. You're gonna help my wife have her baby and you ain't gonna try anything - anything at all, else Larabee is gonna pay the price - in blood. You understand?"
"Damn Jones. You could kill abody with breath like that."
Snarling, Darwin sent a hard punch into Vin's stomach. Vin would have doubled over in pain, but Bob's hold on his arm prevented his instinctive curl. Darwin grabbed the front of Vin's shirt and drew the dusty tracker close to his face. "You got a lot nerve boy. I'll shoot you and Larabee and just let Gill do it on her own. Don't give me a reason to make my wife upset. Got it?"
"Yeah," Vin groaned.
"Good." With a dismissive nod Jones stepped away and Bob released Vin, shoving the lean Texan so that Vin stumbled forward. Vin played out his strained left arm, trying to get some feeling back and noted Bob admiring his stolen bowie knife. "I'll expect to get that back."
Bob looked mildly surprised at Vin's statement and smiled a gapped-tooth grin. "You'll try, boy. You'll try."
Ignoring the oafish man, Vin walked towards Gill, preparing to bring another life into this world and hopefully prevent his and Chris' departure.
Nathan pushed the saloon doors open and was startled to see the bottom half of one JD Dunne sticking out from under the saloon porch. A brown, dusty behind was wiggling in the air as the top half of the young man wormed his way under the porch.
Behind Nathan, Josiah strode onto the porch, his large frame resounding across the wooden planks. A muffled cry of annoyance came from JD and both regulators vaguely heard the young man shout, "Quit stomping around up there! You're gonna scare it away!"
A furious hiss was heard next, followed by a hurt yelp and soon JD's behind was wiggling vigorously. Creating a tiny dust cloud, JD shuffled backwards and emerged from under the porch, holding a bedraggled cat. The sleeve of his white shirt was torn; and judging by the cat's energetic attempts to gain freedom, JD would suffer far worse if the flailing claws came close enough.
A rather dusty face peered at Nathan and Josiah, and a row of white flashed at the pair. "What'd ya think boys? Think this could be the cause of that howl last night?"
Nathan shrugged and said, "Don't think so, JD. I think we'd recognise a cat howl. And that weren't no cat screech last night."
Josiah nodded, "Seems you'll have to keep looking, JD."
Flinging the squirming feline away from him, JD frowned and stood up, dusting himself off. "Didn't think it was a cat. I thought maybe one got stuck under a porch or something, but then it'd probably have kept on screeching until it got free."
"Found any other clues yet?" Nathan stared curiously at Josiah, but JD seemed to deflate at the question.
"Nope. Nothing. I don't know Josiah. It seemed so easy in the book but here ... there isn't a single clue!"
JD pulled on his jacket, and slouched against the saloon rail. He had spent the morning trying to find something, anything - but nothing was any help.
"Maybe Nate and I can help."
"We can?"
"Please Mr. Wilmington - just consider my proposal. We both stand to benefit from the bargain."
Ezra tried to maintain pace with Buck; but every time he caught up with the ladies' man hoping to engage Buck in conversation, the frustrated gambler would lag behind yet again as Buck forged ahead.
Finally cursing in frustration Ezra grabbed Buck's reins and pulled the gray to a stop. Buck was grinning - fit to burst; he was so tickled with having the gambler over a barrel. 'Who'd athought that ole Ez would get so flustered over a letter. It's just like when that one-legged gambler conned him. The fancy Southerner can't stand not knowing. He's more curious than a three-legged, one-eyed cat.'
"Well?"
"Well what, Ez? I stopped listening to you yabbering three miles back."
Ezra almost asphyxiated himself with outrage. "I've been offering you a deal that could make us both very happy, Mister I-have-the-attention-span-of-a-gnat Wilmington!"
"Well, if you're gonna be uppity." Buck made as if to leave and Ezra's rather firm grip stopped him. Before Ezra could interject, Buck twitched a bushy eyebrow at the gambler and said, "I ain't interested in any deal, Ez. The judge's letter stays unopened. I've seen the error of my nosy ways and I'm gonna take your advice and not read the letter."
"B.. Buck - now just listen a moment. I am not proposing that we read the letter - merely that we open it and restore it to its pristine condition."
"Restore? How in the world do you plan on doing that, Ez? Ya just about burnt it to a crisp ... and don't think you have me fooled. I know you'll read the 'opened' letter first chance you get."
"You slander me, good sir. The letter is redeemable. I have the exact stationery back at Four Corners and I am a fair hand at forgery, enough so that the Judge will not know the difference."
"That right?" Buck queried, raising his eyebrows quizzically. "What's in it for me? Since I ain't interested in reading the letter."
Ezra paused momentarily, his lithe mind considering the problem. Coming to a decision Ezra cleared his throat. "Well, hear me out, Buck. You allow me to - restore - the letter and I will ...ah ... forget our deal .…"
Buck interrupted with a sharp snort of laughter, "That poker deal? Hell Ezra, you didn't actually expect me to go through with something as stupid as that? Give you everything I own? Right!"
Ezra mouthed silently for a few precious seconds before collecting himself. "Mr. Wilmington I ...." He took another deep breath. "Mr. Wilmington, I seriously considered you to be a man of your word."
The mocking smile fell off Buck's face, and he stared at Ezra unsure if the gambler was trying to con him. Tilting his head to one side as if the new angle might shed some light on the situation, Buck quietly said, "OK Ez, you got a deal. When we get back home, you can fix the letter and our little bet is forgotten."
Ezra solemnly extended his hand preparing to shake on the deal but Buck paused, "On one condition, Ezra."
With his hand still extended Ezra asked, "What condition?"
"That you swear, as my friend, that you will not read the letter."
Caught in his own trap Ezra was stunned. Calling Buck on his honor was one thing, but Buck expecting the same in return. … "Fine. It's a deal. I will not read the letter as I restore the envelope and your debt to me is forgotten."
Shaking on the deal, Buck turned his horse and started forward, his serious voice drifting back to Standish, "You'd be surprised how much we all trust ya, Ez. Including Chris."
Ezra stared at his friend's back, surprised that he believed the tall ladies' man.
"You coming Ez?"
Silent for a moment, Ezra called, "Indeed, Mr. Wilmington, indeed I am," and nudged his horse Loki forward as he hurried to catch up with his friend.
"Nearly there, ma'am. I can see his head."
Gill Jones let out an explosive gasp and sucked in a deep lungful of air, her blond locks darkened with sweat and clinging to the sides of her face. All the outlaws save Earl and Darwin had moved to the far side of the camp in order to give Gill some privacy. The combination of angle and manly embarrassment had ensured that the looks directed Gill's way where brief and seldom.
Chris had managed to help Vin in the preparations. Vin was down to his shirt, the sleeves rolled above his arms, a waiting pile of clean clothes beside him. Chris was impressed by how calm his best friend was. Vin was all business and kindness, gently assuring Gill and being completely calm about the whole situation.
Chris sent a glare in Darwin's direction as the gunslinger wiped Gill's forehead with a cool cloth. The lady's husband should be doing this for her; instead Darwin was sitting a few feet away, Vin's gun in hand and a small whiskey flask in the other. Gill obviously thought Darwin was neglecting his duties as well, since she hadn't stopped haranguing him when she got a moment to gather her breath. Darwin had been spared her barbs as the contractions increased, but now as the baby was about to be born, Gill was able to get enough air to hiss at her slouching husband, "You don't want to see your son being born? Quit acting a fool and get over here."
Face pale and sweaty, Jones shook his head and took another swig at the flask, his eyes resting on Vin, and not his wife. "Don't try anything. I got my eye on you."
Vin glanced at Chris and muttered under his breath so Jones wouldn't hear. "I'm startin' to be real sorry we made that bet with Ezra."
"Starting?" Chris hissed incredulous. "I wanted to punch his lights out back in town. You started only regretting it now?"
"Had a real nice picture of Ezra shoveling out those stalls in my head to keep me going. Only now ... well, the picture of me pounding Jones is looking mighty tempting."
"You're telling me!" Chris bit out, glaring at Jones.
"But then, I remember our half of the bargain and let's just say, it works as a real fine reminder just why I ain't introducing him to my knuckles."
Chris grunted in agreement. There was no way he was gonna spend a whole day mucking out stalls, although seeing Vin sharing the task with a disgruntled, moaning Ezra would be very entertaining.
"Don't even think about it, Cowboy. Ain't gonna happen."
Chris grinned, hiding the momentary amusement as he wetted the cloth. Gill had marked the conversation silently, her face strangely guarded. Finally she whispered, "You boys ain't concerned about what's gonna happen after the baby comes?"
Chris didn't even look at Vin as he said, "Nope."
Vin ducked to hide his smile, muttering to Gill, "Yeah, Chris plans to use his glare to get us outta here. I ever tell you how he once ...."
A nudge from a black leg had both Gill and Vin chuckling, the moment of levity a release in the tense situation. "You boys sure are something."
"You ready Miz Gill?"
Gill nodded, finding herself strangely calm and prepared.
Three heads bent over the clue.
"What do you think Josiah?"
One hand fingered it.
"Not too sure son."
Another darker hand nudged the object.
"I'm pretty sure this is crap, JD."
A head full of black hair shook violently.
"No. No, Nate. I know this is something. It's gotta mean .... Something."
A rumbling laugh.
"No JD, I meant this here 'clue' is crap - a buffalo chip, a cow pie, a piece of crap!"
"Ohhhh."
Undaunted, a hand brought out another clue.
"What about this? It was near the general store."
"Son, that's a owl dropping. You know - dead mouse."
"Ugh!"
The heartwarming yells split the mid-morning air as the newest Jones entered the world. Wrapped in the remains of a clean shirt and a spare petticoat, baby Jones lay wailing in his mother's arms, a loose fist shaking in the air as he expressed his disapproval at the rather rude arrival.
A glowing mother crooned softly to her newborn, instinctively rocking and soothing the infant. His men were congratulating a damn proud father, whiskey flowing in abundance. Two weary regulators-turned-midwives smiled at the new mother and son. The only person not celebrating was Earl, who continued to watch the peacekeepers in case they made a break for the horses.
Jones strode eagerly towards his wife and knelt beside her, his grin nearly splitting his face. "Well done, darlin'. He's a fine son. Grow up to be just like his old man."
Gill said sweetly, "Not if I can help it." Her words were tempered by the dazzling smile she sent Darwin's way, the pair smiling happily at each other. Vin shook his head at the doting pair. There was no accounting for some folks. The pair acted like they hated the sight of each other, but the frequent and heartfelt smiles and touches between them, told of a true love - a darn strange one - but a real one.
Still looking in wonder at his son, Darwin addressed his men. "Bob. George. Tie them midwives up. Can't have a pair of ladies like 'em running loose."
Vin sighed as he looked at his still gory hands, but the Texan wasn't given the chance to clean up as Bob pulled him to his feet, roughly restraining the tracker from behind. Tying the rawhide around Vin's wrists, Bob then proceeded to gag him, with his own bandanna. Leaning close to Vin's ear, Bob grunted, "Mr. Jones reckoned y'all should have a taste of your own medicine."
Chris was also gagged, although his hands were tied in front of him. George and Bob sat the friends against the rock wall. The thought that flashed between the pair was mutual. "To hell with the bet. Jones is dead."
The strains of a well-known folk song wafted through the late morning air, the twisted lyrics rising to excruciating heights as the melody warbled from a uncertain baritone.
A flock of startled birds made their escape from the torturing sounds, followed by a family of rapidly departing squirrels as the pair of suffering horses ambled past.
Unheard, a heartfelt prayer was sent heavenward as Ezra slowly followed a tone-deaf Buck. Raising suffering eyes skyward, the young gambler whispered another fervent prayer. "Someone kill me please!"
The shuddering leaves spiraled to the ground, as the troubling group passed, Buck's version of the "Yellow Rose of Texas" making even the bark on the trees curl.
The town jail was, for once, empty save for the three peacekeepers seated around the desk.
"Ya don't think it's anything supernatural?"
"Don't think so, JD. I mean it's the only weird thing happening around here. Don't the supernatural involve more than one thing, you know - like strange lights, and other sounds. This is just a howl."
"A pretty mournful one at that, Nathan. Perhaps JD is right and it's some sort of ghost."
"Or ... or ... It could be somebody pretending to be a ghost! You know, to drive their enemy mad! Or... or... foretell somebody's death ... or ... or ..."
"Well, if it's a 'flesh and blood' ghost, we can deal with that."
"What if it's not?" suggested Nathan.
The open mouthed JD, just about to launch into fresh ideas, suddenly found he had lost his voice. Managing a pitiful squeak, the young man blurted, "A ... a ... real ghost!"
The two older peacekeepers shared an amused look and Josiah tried to re-assure JD. "We're just speculating JD, trying to help you out, that's all."
"I .. I .. don't know 'Siah. I been reading ... I mean ... I heard ... well ... pretty strange things can happen and, well ..."
"This have anything to do with those books you been reading, JD?" Nathan asked intently, his brown eyes focused on the book laying on JD's jacket.
JD went from a sickly white to bright red in a heartbeat and shook his head violently.
"Those stories are just make believe, JD," Josiah said as he patted the blushing kid on the shoulder.
"I ... I ... know. I know!" Before the embarrassed young man could say another word, Nathan started laughing.
Josiah stared at Nathan, waiting patiently for the laughter to die down. While he waited, JD's cheeks got redder.
Finally regaining his breath, Nathan chuckled, "So that's why Casey was laughing so hard a couple of days ago. She said you were a bit skittish all of a sudden and that..."
"Nate!" JD squeaked. Bright red cheeks warmed the now chuckling pair. Josiah rumbled to JD, "Guess you got all involved in one of those stories, and Casey snuck up on ya and ..."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up! It's wasn't funny. She damn near gave me a heart attack! A body shouldn't sneak up behind someone reading. It ain't right!"
"Relax kid. We're just funning with ya." Nathan's smile was sincere as he tried to reassure JD.
"I'm gonna solve this mystery and prove to Cas ... I mean you that reading is not for bab... I mean ... reading helps ya!"
"Look forward to that son."
The approach of three riders towards the sheltered clearing brought the outlaw gang to its feet, weapons drawn. What Darwin Jones saw did not make him happy.
Sean O'Malley, with his cocky mouth and self-assured confidence was riding in like he owned the place. Once the rest of Darwin's gang identified the newcomers, the tension only increased as fingers curled around triggers reflexively. Despite outnumbering the new arrivals, Darwin and his boys seemed defensive, as if the three men now stopped at the mouth of the hollow were creatures to be wary of.
Vin and Chris, watching from the far side of the camp, noticed the building tension. Gill clutched her baby unconsciously and flicked her eyes between Jones and O'Malley, her expression studiously neutral.
"What the hell do you want, Sean?"
O'Malley relaxed as if he were meeting friends on a Sunday ride and about to exchange pleasantries and the latest gossip. Slowly Sean rolled a 'hand-made' and studied Darwin with eyes that glared in stark contrast to his relaxed posture. Hatred bored into Darwin and while the regulators could not see Darwin's face, his tightening posture showed his own aggression.
"Just followin' orders, Darwin. Seems your father-in-law were a mite worried about Gill and her child."
Darwin brushed the air with his hand, as if he could wipe O'Malley's words out of the air. "Everything's fine, O'Malley. So you can leave."
Sean O'Malley's cobalt eyes glanced at the captive regulators and his raised eyebrow made Darwin bristle even more. Refusing to rise to the bait, Darwin tried to stare O'Malley down, but the contest seemed an uneven one. Darwin was the first to break away and demanded loudly, "Just ride back to Fredericks and tell him we'll be home soon."
Shaking his white blonde hair with his Irish lilt, "Canna do that Darwin. Got strict orders to make sure Ms Fredericks is escorted right and proper."
This time the glare sent O'Malley's way was backed up by Vin's Winchester. "That's Mrs. Jones, numskull and you know it! I sure as hell don't need some green Mick ...."
With both groups bristling with testosterone and more than one hand firmly gripping a gun butt, the air sizzled with tension. Before the impending violence could erupt, Gill Jones cut through the mounting tension like a hot knife through butter.
Her small blonde figure stepped between the two groups and her furious glare silenced her husband. Before the smirking O'Malley could blink, he too was treated to a full-fledged glare and a sharp reprimand. "Shame on you Sean O'Malley. Riding in here like some snickering cur, stirring up trouble. Your ma would take you to hand, even as big as you are now, so don't think I won't. And you," Gill caught her now-smirking husband, "Posturing like some overstuffed game-hen. All of you, acting like a pack of street mutts, marking your territory."
Gill moved her silent son in her arms, her voice completely even and calm, save the cutting words, which made both Sean and Darwin wince. "Now I made my choice - a long time ago - and there will be no gloating from you, Darwin Eugene Jones," Gill continued, turning to O'Malley," and no baiting from you, Sean O'Malley. I have had a hard day and I want to rest. So you boys behave and I will tell you when I'm ready to go. All right?"
Delivered in the calmest, soothing tone possible, Gill's words had their desired effect: Two shamefaced men and a chorus of "Yes ma'ams". Striding away, Gill seated herself near the captives and unseen by her husband and one-time suitor, blushed at the wink Vin sent her way.
Still uneasy, the newly arrived outlaws dismounted and joined the rest of Hugh Fredericks' gang. The camp was informally split into three groups. O'Malley's side, Jones' and the captives with Gill forming a neutral island in the middle. But the storm brewing amidst the warning looks, muttered curses and rising hackles had the potential to sweep aside even her calm.
"He still at it?"
"Yep." Josiah nodded, shading his eyes from the sunlight.
"Damn, he really is gonna look under every rock, nook and cranny."
Two pairs of eyes followed the bobbing bowler hat as its owner checked the entire town for clues and answers.
Nathan sighed and said, "JD has more energy than a bumblebee in spring."
Josiah smiled and agreed, "He's even checked the outhouse, three times!"
"Any luck?"
"Well, he's ruled out the supernatural - no other clues apparently, and he's ruled out an animal - no tracks of any kind. He's just about ruled out any living soul, since he has point blank asked practically everyone."
"And now?"
A loud crash within the stable tack room raised a cloud of dust. "Now he's ruling out everything else."
"Sheesh, Ez! What the hell is wrong with Loki? He's dancing around like a spinning top gone crazy!"
Ezra struggled to maintain his seat as his horse whirled beneath him, the whites of his eyes showing, ears back and legs ramrod straight.
"My only guess could be that he, too, is protesting the abuse you have unrelentingly rendered against our defenseless auditory senses."
"Huh?"
Ezra grabbed his hat with one hand and hung on for dear life as Loki bucked again. The agile gambler managed to remain firmly seated and brought Loki under control, reining in the bucking animal. The chestnut stood facing the opposite direction, quivering with excitement.
"He hates your attempt at vocal punishment as much as I do!"
"What?"
Finally loosing his estimable cool, Ezra Standish spun around his agitated horse and shouted, "STOP SINGING, you tone-deaf nincompoop!"
"Oh."
Loki seemed to calm down further as if he realized that Buck was no longer singing. Ezra took a deep breath and patted the chestnut's neck, commiserating with his steed.
Buck, his broad-brimmed hat pushed back off his face was studying Ezra and Loki curiously. Finally grinning widely, Wilmington laughed, "So I guess you two don't want to hear my version of 'Dixie'?"
"No more singing!" Ezra shouted, followed by a dual snort from both horses, including a vigorous headshake from Darling beneath the vocal scoundrel, wiped the smile from Buck's face. Shaking his own head, Buck muttered, "Betrayed on all fronts, Darlin'. You all just can't appreciate talent."
"Mr. Wilmington, any person with the slightest capability of hearing would not consider it 'talent' by any means. Being a captive audience to your vocal styling is cruel and unusual punishment."
The sun was reaching noon as the restless outlaws lay about the little hollow. Darwin and Bob were in deep conversation, occasionally eyeing both O'Malley and the peacekeepers. Sean O'Malley was lying on his back, watching the wind chasing the whispy clouds across the blue expanse. He seemed completely unconcerned and occasionally drank from a small hip flask.
Gill was sleeping on several bedrolls, her blonde head the only visible part amongst the blankets. Darwin had placed himself between Gill and O'Malley, his position clearly possessive. The newborn boy lay in his mother's arms, sleeping peacefully.
The two peacekeepers watched everyone, evaluating their captors and their chances for survival. Only the half-breed Earl was guarding them, and Earl was resting against a tree, his face clearly showing his exhaustion. The blood loss from the bullet-wound in his arm and the subsequent struggle with Larabee had sapped his resources. So Earl leaned against the tree battling the sleep that pulled at him because none of the other outlaws inclined to watch a pair of regulators who would have to go through the camp in order to escape.
Chris moved slightly up the rock that he was leaning against, trying to find a comfortable spot that didn't jab into his arm. The wound needed stitches, but the outlaws had refused Vin's request to tend to Larabee. The uncomfortable gags had been removed when Earl had given the regulators a few paltry sips of warm water.
"Sit still Larabee, else you're gonna open up that wound again," Vin hissed under his breath.
"Too late," Chris whispered, noting the fresh blood staining the dirty bandage.
Vin didn't move, his eyes carefully roaming around the camp, while he worked at his bonds. The dried blood on his hands was actually helping the tracker loosen his ropes, as his sweat mixed with blood, added to the moisture and was making the ropes swell.
Chris slowly turned to look at Earl, and without looking at Vin, whispered, "You know these boys?"
"Heard of 'em." Vin stopped covertly studying the outlaw gang as he felt a strand of rope give way. Focusing on the task at hand, he drawled quietly, "They all belong to the Hugh Fredericks' gang. Only these days, there ain't much of a gang."
Chris had noticed the sudden tension in Vin and pointedly ignored the slight movement of intense concentration, unwilling to draw attention to them. "I heard that the Texas Rangers had pretty much wiped 'em out, about a year ago."
"Yeah, and old man Fredericks disappeared with a few men. It's only been recently that some of the old gang have started robbing agin. A few years before the Ranger's took a special interest in Fredericks, I took in one of his more 'famous' boys. That hombre sure could talk up a storm and I got my ear bent all the way to Texas."
Chris watched Jones glare at O'Malley and asked, "What did you find out?"
Vin felt another strand break and hissed to cover his grimace as another rope tightened in response, "Well, it seems that Fredericks wanted his girl - never found out her name, but I'm guessing it's Mrs. Jones here - to go back East and attend a some finishing school. She was set to marry O'Malley and deadest against goin' back East. So accordin' to ole 'One-Jack' Phillips she ran away."
Chris smiled, fully able to picture the headstrong Gill Fredericks running to escape her father's wishes. "Fredericks musta gone ape."
"Had his boys, and there were a lot of 'em, out searching the territory. Couldn't find her and two weeks later, Darwin Jones - a wannabe outlaw - rode into Fredericks' place and riding right beside him was Gill. Fredericks was so pleased, he offered Jones a place in his gang. One-Jack said that Jones seemed mighty nervous and didn't answer right off."
"And?"
Vin's eyes crinkled in laughter, the rest of his face completely emotionless as he loosened one hand. "Gill apparently clambered off her horse and declared for the whole gang to hear that Darwin was her husband and that she was gonna stay with him. And if her pa tried to send her back East, she'd ride off with Jones. O'Malley and Fredericks both started shouting at the same time and well ... One-Jack said it was a real bang-up argument. But, it all settled and Jones joined the gang."
"So I reckon O'Malley and Jones ain't too fond of each other."
"Nope. And I'm pretty sure that Fredericks couldn't care what happened to Jones. But his little girl ... that's a different matter."
"And we're right in the middle of a feud."
"Not for long, Cowboy."
Chris risked a glance at Vin, and saw the triumph on his friend's face. The message sent between the friends was clear, 'Get ready.'
From across the camp, O'Malley's insolent voice rose, "Don't cha think it's time to take care of those two lawmen, Jones? Never figured ya for the squeamish type."
Jones rose to his feet, Vin's Winchester clutched in his gun hand, "Don't concern yourself over my business, Sean."
"Ahh, don't worry Darwin, I'm sure you'll take care of business ... just like you did with those nosy farmers."
Whatever the incident was, it evoked a heightened tension in Darwin's men and Bob laid a restraining hand on Darwin, who moved towards a sneering O'Malley.
"Best leave it alone, Mr. O'Malley," Bob grunted, his eyes flickering to O'Malley's companions who were standing behind their boss.
Sean O'Malley stopped grinning and glared at Bob and Darwin, his challenge clear. The rest of Darwin's men were on their feet, the stalemate that Gill had interrupted brewing again. Gill slept on, unaware that her husband was about to attack the man her father had wanted her to marry.
"Whatcha waiting fer, O'Malley? You've wanted a piece of me ever since...."
"You've got a mighty high opinion of yourself Jones. I'm not interested in taking on you and upsetting Miz Fredericks. I'm waiting for you to ... take care of business. If you can."
Unwilling to be baited into acting, Jones was, however, reluctant to lose face with his men and so hung between action and inaction for a few seconds. Snarling with frustration, Jones strode towards the regulators, Bob and Howie in his wake. Earl stood as well and moved towards the captives.
Chris glared at the approaching outlaws, but Vin kept his head down, focusing on freeing his last hand. Cocking his pistol, Jones aimed the gun barrel at Vin's bowed head. Bob and Earl covered Chris with their weapons as Jones prepared to fire.
"DARWIN!" Gill shouted, scrambling to her feet. "NO!"
"Stay outa this Gill. It's gotta happen."
At a loss for words, Gill stuttered, "But... but... it ain't right killing on a day when a baby gets born."
"Happens every day, Mrs. Jones," Bob rumbled, his flinty eyes momentarily seeking hers.
"Not today," came the rasped drawl as Vin swung his free hand into Darwin's groin, and snatched the falling Winchester, slamming it into Howie's head. Chris had moved simultaneously with Vin's lightning reaction and took advantage of Bob's distraction to lunge forward and drive his shoulder into the big man's gut, forcing a loud, 'oomph' from the outlaw. Earl moved in to restrain the dark gunslinger only to meet a furious double-fist as Chris gained his feet and swung his bound hands straight into Earl's face.
Darwin rolled helplessly on the ground, moaning in pain as Vin quickly drew Howie's knife and sliced through Chris' bonds. Sean and his two lackey's had rushed into the fight the moment Vin struck Howie. George charged at Chris, roaring as he took down the gunslinger in a full body tackle. Joe attacked Vin, screaming in outrage at Vin's strike at his brother. The Irishman helped Joe tackle Vin, his eyes bright at the prospect of a fight.
As Bob regained his feet and breath, he joined George's struggle with the unusually strong black clad gunman. A sprawling brawl ensued, with fists and knees striking at any exposed flesh. Despite his wound, Chris fought furiously, sending iron fists to connect with any body trying to pin him. The close quarters prevented the use of guns, the fear of hitting a friend a real danger.
The outlaws trying to get hold of Vin, found the task nearly impossible as the wiry tracker twisted his way out of tight corners and used any and all available weapons to cause damage. The fight was lethal in its intensity, screams of pain and anger echoing in the noon air.
Chris sent a battered George Foreman into one of O'Malley's goons, but found his arms caught from behind as Howie grabbed the black-clad gunslinger. Darwin, finally on his feet, sent two vicious blows into Chris' exposed stomach, but soon stumbled backwards, shouting in pain, as a booted foot broke his nose. Chris, using Howie as leverage, had managed to kick out. Howie dropped to the floor, his long frame maintaining its hold on the angry Larabee. Darwin and George charged onto Chris. Larabee let out an explosive grunt as he felt one of his ribs break. Using a well-aimed knee and hard head, Larabee paid the pair back, but was unable to free himself from Howie's hold.
Vin dislocated O'Malley's elbow in a smooth movement, as the Irishman swung at him. Ramming his palm against the exposed joint, Vin taught Sean the folly of overextending his reach. Screaming in pain, O'Malley dropped, clutching his arm, unaware that Bob and Joe had taken advantage of Vin's attack and were now wrestling the wiry young man to the ground. A powerful kick upside Joe's head sent the young outlaw into O'Malley's other goon, who had been struggling to get off the ground.
Despite his best efforts, Vin couldn't shake the mass of Bob on his upper body. Unwashed odors assaulted Vin, and Bob's leering face barely warned him in time, to avoid getting his ear bit by Bob's yellow teeth. Shifting his weight onto his left hip, Vin fumbled at Bob's belt to find his Bowie knife, while his other hand kept Bob occupied by clutching tightly on the bull neck.
Roaring and breaking Vin's grip on his throat, Bob lurched off the struggling regulator. Before Vin could take in a deep breath, the young man found himself fighting for his life, as Bob wrapped a tight piece of rawhide around his throat. Arching his back in an attempt to get to his feet, Vin fought the stranglehold, forcing his fingers between the rawhide and his tender throat. Joe, after separating himself from the ground and outlaw, struck Vin in the chest, forcing more air to leave the desperately oxygen-starved body. Dropping one hand from the killing strip digging into his throat, Vin found a pistol on the ground, and shot Joe as the young outlaw moved to strike again. Bob viciously tightened his pull, Vin gasping desperately even as he shot O'Malley's goon. A rifle butt slammed into Vin's hand, forcing him to drop the gun, and amidst his darkening vision, Vin saw Earl standing above him, a cold look in his icy eyes.
Chris, still struggling with his attackers, had heard the gunshots, and using the surprise to throw Darwin off him, was shocked to see Vin fighting for his life. Only two bright red fingers protecting the tender flesh stood between Vin and certain death. Shouting in fury, Chris tried once again to free himself but George's fist momentarily stunned the gunslinger.
In a co-ordinated movement, Bob and Earl struck. Bob relaxed his pull on Vin's neck briefly and while Vin took an instinctive breath, Earl pulled the obstructing hand out of the way. Bob immediately tightened his hold on the rawhide again. Earl stepped back and dispassionately watched as Bob set about throttling yet another victim. Vin fought desperately, trying to throw his weight backwards and gain some space, but Bob remained firm. Vin's head was swimming with lack of oxygen and it was getting harder and harder to fight, as his arms grew heavy and his lungs screamed for oxygen.
Chris could feel Howie weakening, as the gunslinger sent yet another head butt into the outlaw behind him. Darwin roared in anger and blindly drew his pistol and fired at Chris. Larabee managed to turn slightly and the shot that would have taken him straight in the heart, fired into his left shoulder, snapping Howie back, as the close range poured the deadly bullet into the outlaw's heart. Ignoring the pain of the gunshot, Chris grabbed a rifle and swung it at George Foreman who was raising his own gun. The rifle connected with a bone-shattering thud and George fell to the ground unconscious. Darwin pistol-whipped Chris across the face and as Larabee fell, he noted in shock how desperate Vin's movements were, but Darwin's second blow sent Chris into darkness.
Bob watched his struggling victim, the long brown hair blowing loose in the stirring breeze. The large outlaw saw one hand drop, in exhaustion and knew the fight would soon be over. If he had been able to use his fine gut wire, the tracker would not have lasted this long. By this time, both attacker and victim were on their knees, Bob using his considerable weight and strength, to raise Vin upward slightly off his knees as he tightened the rawhide for the final pull.
Sharp, mortal pain slicing into his gut stopped the outlaw cold. The shock registered on his dirty face as another stabbing pain shot into his abdomen. Slowly, Bob released his hold as a third burst of pain shuddered through him. Bob barely saw Vin's coughing frame drop before him - all he could see was the growing blood pool on his shirt. A flicker of light on metal drew his fading eyes to the bloody knife in Vin's hand. Just before the life drained completely from Bob, bright blue eyes met his dull ones and Bob understood the message. 'Told you I'd get it back.'
Bob Huntley dropped to the ground and Vin dragged painful breaths through his damaged throat into his desperate lungs. So consumed with his need to breath, Vin did not see Earl raise a revolver and point it directly at the tracker.
Ezra reveled in the peace and quiet of the afternoon. All seemed well with the world. He had managed to save a potentially embarrassing situation with the Judge, he was headed for home, a soft feather bed awaited his aching body and Buck had stopped singing.
Ezra was about to extol the virtues of silence to his glum companion when the sounds of a fight stopped him. Screams and shouts echoed over the hills, coming from an easterly direction. The growing noise led the pair of wary regulators straight towards a copse of trees and a rock face. The sound of gunfire spurred the pair on and both Buck and Ezra drew their guns, preparing to aid whoever was in trouble.
Chris struggled to awake, his head aching fiercely. "He doesn't deserve a bullet. It's too good for the likes of him. Let's string him up."
Those words stirred Larabee enough that he was able to resist the hands that pulled him up. "Hey Earl, don't waste a bullet on that pile of crap. Bring him over and we'll string this pair up like the dogs they are."
'Good, Vin's still alive.' Larabee thought as he looked around him. The carnage was impressive, most of the outlaws down for the count and only George, Darwin and Earl still standing. Vin was hunched over his knees, gasping for breath. Sean O'Malley was clambering to his feet, his face red with anger. Clutching his throbbing arm, O'Malley kicked Vin and shouted, "I'll kill you myself, boy!"
Darwin laughed nastily and sneered, "What's the matter Sean, the little buckskin hurt you?"
"He did more than that. Killed Joe, Killain and Bob," Earl said, keeping his revolver trained on Vin. Darwin's face grew stony as he saw Bob's bloody body. "Reckon we should have some fun with the murdering bastard before we string him up next to Larabee."
O'Malley drawled, "For the first time in my life Jones, I agree with you." Reaching down, he grabbed a fistful of Vin's hair, raising the still gasping tracker onto his knees. Jones handed the Winchester to George and left him and O'Malley's surviving goon, Francis, to guard Chris. Striding over to Vin and O'Malley, Darwin cracked his knuckles in anticipation. Gill, who had taken herself and her baby to the far side of the camp, shouted, "No, Darwin. Don't!"
As Sean raised his fist, Tanner thrust the sharp blade into O'Malley's thigh. Darwin narrowly missed a deadly swipe that would have gutted him as Vin's reach faltered due to his weakness. Earl hesitated to fire and suddenly dropped to the ground dead, Vin's Bowie knife buried in his throat. Roaring, Sean knocked Vin to the ground and between Darwin and himself, managed to pin the weakened tracker. Chris would have moved to help, but Vin's Winchester thrust into his throat stopped any movement.
Maintaining a chokehold on the already badly bruised throat, Darwin sat on Vin's chest, making it a titanic effort for the ex-bounty hunter to breathe. "Hold him still, Jones. It's pay back time." O'Malley snatched one of Vin's arms, tearing loose Vin's grip on Jones' arm. Pulling Vin's arm away from Jones, Sean set the heel of his boot and maliciously dislocated Vin's shoulder with a sharp twist. The strangled shout of pain from Vin had Chris trying to get up and help, but the cold metal of a gun barrel slamming into his jaw dissuaded him forcefully.
Jones laughed at the tracker's struggles, agony clearly written on Vin's face. O'Malley was moving to the other side of the pair on the ground, about to repeat his revenge with Vin's other arm. A desperate kick from Vin caught Darwin at the back of his head and Darwin screeched in response, shifting his weight on Vin's chest. Using the altered position, Vin was about to toss Darwin off him when a weight descended onto his left knee. Counter-balancing Darwin, Sean prevented the twist and roll.
O'Malley shouted at Darwin, "Hold up there, Jones. I got an idea."
Jones stopped his motion to reach for the bloody knife and saw Sean's intent and grinned evilly. "Do it." Jones shifted a little and allowed Vin to see what O'Malley was about to do. Sean had picked up Earl's revolver and placed the muzzle of the gun on Vin's kneecap. "An old Irish favorite."
"NO!" Chris struggled to free himself, ignoring the gun pointed at him.
Vin's wide eyes took in the sight of the black muzzle forced into his knee and took a deep breath as Sean tightened his finger slowly. The thunder of hooves halted the movement and as Sean and Darwin looked up from their planned maiming, a pair of firing gunmen rode into the clearing. The first two shots took out George and Francis and the third had Sean diving for cover.
Buck and Ezra reined in their steaming horses and immediately dismounted and fired on the remaining outlaws. Sean stepped out of his cover to fire at Ezra and Buck's bullet caught him square in the chest, killing the Irish outlaw instantly. With no returning fire, Buck and Ezra saw that only Vin and Chris were moving.
"Weren't there two of 'em?"
"Yes, I believe there were. Did you happen to see where the second miscreant disappeared to?"
"Nope."
Buck rushed to help Chris to his feet, the gunslinger cursing fiercely. "Hell, Chris, can't you and Tanner go anyplace without needing a rescue?"
"Shut up, Buck."
Buck tried to ease Chris back to the ground, mindful of the bullet hole in Larabee's shoulder, but Chris would have none of that, eager to see how Vin was doing. Ezra had lifted the weak tracker slightly, hoping to ease the young man's breathing and all Vin could do, was take deep shuddering breaths as he obeyed his body's demand for oxygen. Having a hefty man sitting on your chest when all you wanted to do was breath was an experience Vin did not wish to repeat.
Unable to express his thanks, Vin merely closed his eyes and took blissful breaths, no matter how much it hurt his throat. A movement - or more like collapse - near his left side, brought the blue orbs open and Vin saw his best friend refusing Buck's help. As Chris' eyes met blue eyes, the black-clad gunslinger chuckled at Vin's look. "Shut up, Vin."
"Really, Mr. Larabee. Vin did not say a thing."
"And he'll be saying even less if you two make a move!" The sharply shouted words turned three heads in Darwin Jones' direction. Playing possum as a recent corpse had fooled Ezra and Buck long enough for Darwin to snatch up a fallen rifle. Covering the foursome, Jones sidled away to the waiting mounts, his eyes fixed on the lawmen.
"Y'all just stay right there and I'll be on my way." The rifled never wavered and a disheveled Gill Jones emerged from the copse of trees. She joined her husband near the horses and kept her face lowered. Mounting up, the pair was soon ready to leave.
Unable to depart without saying something, Jones spoke clearly across the hollow. "You know you two really had me fooled. First off, I thought y'all were some namby pamby sissies, what with never saying nothing no matter what I said to ya. Then the two of ya wipe out my gang and then some. I should kill ya both now - cept I don't want a posse of lawdogs on my tail for ever. And well - I'm sure we'll meet again someday."
And with those parting words, Darwin turned and left the enclosure, driving the rest of the horses before him. Gill remained a moment and waved a quick thank you before following Darwin. Soon the pair were out of sight and silence again fell on the hollow.
Three rather stunned faces regarded each other, Chris, Buck and Ezra all at a loss as to what to say. As such hearing from the one body not supposed to speak caught all their attention.
"Reckon ... we ... won ... eh, Ez."
The look of horror on Ezra's face sent Buck into peals of laughter. A testimony given, a witness and two men determined to see Ezra fulfill his half of the bet was priceless.
"Now, gentlemen ..."
Four very dusty and tired horses walked into Four Corners. Ezra and Buck were arguing loudly enough for JD and Nathan to make out the occasional word. As they joined the foursome, the argument was forgotten at the sight of Vin and Chris' injuries.
Without too much fuss the wounded pair were escorted to Nathan's clinic, and Ezra and Buck found themselves retelling the story as far as they could gather from Chris. Josiah and JD didn't know whether to laugh or be outraged. All in all, it had been quite an adventure. A baby, a bet and bunch of bandits.
"Are we going to ride after Darwin Jones and his wife?" Josiah asked, leaning against the balcony rail.
"Don't know. We'll wait for the Judge to tell us. He should be here soon," Buck answered, a mysterious glint directed at Ezra, who pointedly ignored the look.
"Oh he's here already. Been waiting for you two to arrive," JD supplied, a slight frown developing as Ezra paled at the news. Shrugging off the apparent attack, Ezra tipped his hat and muttered a quick farewell. The gambler disappeared down the stairs, followed closely by Buck, who had an enormous grin on his face.
JD and Josiah shared a quizzical look and watched the gambler's rapid progress across the street, with Buck not far behind. "Wonder what they're up to?"
JD shrugged and saw Ezra try and change direction when the Judge appeared from the saloon. Unable to avoid the Judge's hello and wave to come over, Ezra reluctantly sidled over, Buck running to reach the pair. A three-way conversation ensued with Ezra seeming to talk very fast, Buck butting in with a few comments and the Judge trying to get a word in edgewise. After 5 minutes of verbal conversation and an eternity of nonverbal fidgeting from Ezra and Buck, the Judge tipped his hat and walked towards the Clarion, giving the still arguing twosome a strange look.
Nathan's arrival onto the balcony tore JD and Josiah's attention from the scene below and each looked at Nathan eagerly.
"They're both gonna be okay. Chris will heal up in a coupla weeks, the knife wound will definitely get feverish and I'll have to watch it carefully. Vin needs a lot of rest and no talking for a good long while."
"Shouldn't be a problem for Vin."
"And I've gotta fix his arm and then wrap it up real good, stop it hurting so much. Josiah, will ya give me a hand?"
"Sure Nate."
"Oh, JD," Nathan suddenly blurted out as the young man turned to leave, "Chris and Vin want ya to make sure Ez don't slither outta town. Seems he finally lost a bet."
JD grinned and tipped his bowler hat as he raced down the stairs towards Buck who was watching Ezra make a hasty retreat towards his room. JD had a lot of questions for the tall ladies' man.
JD once again found himself standing in the middle of the street. His brown eyes glided over the familiar town, trying desperately to find something out of place. But after hours of futile searching, the young man was running out of enthusiasm and ideas.
A loud, "Hey, JD!" startled the kid so badly, he rose up several inches from the dusty ground.
"Will people stop doing that to me!"
A large, friendly arm wrapped itself over his shoulders and Buck's delighted face was thrust into JD's. "Hear that you've been playing detective, kid. Had any luck?"
Mortified that Buck had found out about his efforts, JD blushed and tried to dismiss Buck with a short wave. "Don't know what you're talking about, Buck."
"Oh, I think you do. Should I tell that little fella Steel to come back and write about you, 'The Cowboy Detective'? Or perhaps 'The Kid Sleuth'? Or maybe..."
"Knock it off, Buck, " JD pushed away, trying to escape the scoundrel. A firm hand prevented the escape attempt though, and JD could just picture Buck grinning, "You shoulda come to me for help. Why, I'm a natural detective."
"A defective is more like it," Ezra's Southern drawl fairly oozed off the porch as the gambler entered the saloon. Shooting a cool look in Ezra's direction, Buck opened his arms wide and warmly declared, "Why kid, with my help you'll have this case solved in no time."
Two rather hesitant pairs of legs made their way down the clinic steps. Bandages and stitches in abundance, the two reluctant patients finally reached the ground. Two pairs of eyes scanned the street for Nathan and immediately noted the spectacle outside the general store.
Buck Wilmington was perched precariously on the store roof, trying to reach a bedraggled cat that was hissing and spitting at the determined ladies' man. A small figure, covered in dust and a wide smile, was shouting encouragement at Buck.
"Lean a little more ... yeah ... to the right ... watch out for the claws ... owww... that hurt, Buck?"
"Course it did! Damn fleabag!"
By the time Vin and Chris had reached JD, Buck had rejoined the group. "I told you, Buck, it ain't a cat, or dog, or any animal."
Chris watched as Buck opened his mouth to start arguing and Chris quickly interrupted. "What's going on?"
As if realizing that Vin and Chris were actually present, JD gulped, "Well, last night there was this incredible creepy howl, right through town and no one seems to know what it was … and I been trying to figure it out ...."
"Reckons he's a detective and all," Buck grinned, winking at JD.
"Howl?" Chris asked.
JD nodded vigorously, and proceeded to tell Vin and Chris all about his search. "And then Buck butted in and thinks he can do a better job."
"Hmph!"
Any further conversation was cut off by the Judge's arrival. "Boys."
The four regulators tipped their hats and the Judge continued, "It seems that Hugh Fredericks was caught yesterday heading into New Mexico. The Governor's ordered the army to round up the rest of the gang and if Jones is not caught then, you might be called on to help track him down."
"Thanks, Judge," Chris nodded and the Judge departed heading for the telegraph office.
JD was staring at the Judge and so barely noticed Vin beckoning him nearer. JD sidled up to the wiry tracker and bent close to hear Vin's hoarse whisper. Bright brown eyes darted at the whispered information, and soon JD straightened with a pleased smile.
"Thanks, Vin."
Nodding in acknowledgment, the tracker guided Larabee towards the saloon and the pair disappeared into the shadowed interior.
"What are you so happy about, kid?"
"Nothing. Hey, I'm going over to the Bronson's new place - wanna come?"
Curiosity piqued, Buck followed the smug kid, noting that the wind was picking up. Just as the pair reached the new family's home, a spine-chilling shriek echoed through the street. Buck stood stock still and his eyes darted about nervously.
"What the hell was that?"
JD merely continued walking and climbed the two steps onto the Bronson's porch. Rapping a short knock, the young man grinned at the wide-eyed scoundrel. "Shingles, Buck. Shingles."
Confused, Buck took a step nearer when another howl rent the air. Immediately Buck's eyes went skyward, trying to see the cause when he noticed the roof. A mess of overlapping, warped shingles rattled in the wind sending another howl tearing through the gaps in the roof.
"Shingles, huh?"
"Shingles."
Later in the saloon ....
"You boys really shouldn't be outta bed."
Larabee just tossed another shot back and grimaced as his wounded shoulder touched the wooden chair-back. Vin was slouched in his chair, his hat pulled over his face obscuring the bruises marring his unshaven jaw but not the white bandages wrapped over his raw throat. One arm covered by bandages and a loose sleeve of his hide jacket rested against the slowly rising chest. Vin had taken one look at the cot on Nathan's floor and declared that sitting up would be better than lying down right now. Nathan couldn't argue and had retired to the saloon to watch his stubborn patients.
Both would soon retire, but Nathan felt better with them in eyeball range. Ezra had finally appeared from his room and had delivered the pristine letter to Judge Travis. Buck had closely watched the entire process, but the gambler had given nothing away. The Judge had thanked the pair of regulators and departed on the late stage.
Now, a surprisingly grumpy Standish graced the Seven's table. No cards, cracks, or twenty-dollar words were in evidence. In fact, if Nathan didn't know better, he would think that Ezra was sulking. Maybe he was after having lost his bet with Vin and Chris.
A few pleasant minutes passed with Buck making up for lost time with a willing saloon girl, while Vin and Chris partook of 'pain' medication. Finally a disgruntled snort from Ezra brought six faces in his direction. The gambler was fingering a burnt, wrinkled envelope and had a frown on his face. Everyone could see his mercury mind whirring away at something - something Buck seemed to know from the dopey grin on the scoundrel's face.
"Whatcha got, Ezra?"
JD's question seemed to snap Ezra from his reverie and the gambler muttered, "Oh nothing ... I ... HEY!"
Josiah had snatched the envelope from the con man and frowned at the tattered address and name. It was obvious that the envelope was empty but still, the curious eyebrow raised in the gambler's general direction brought an unusual flush to the Southerner's face.
Buck laughed and said, "Hell Ez. Ya might as well tell 'em now."
"Tell them what pray tell?" Ezra asked innocently.
Looking around the table, Ezra noted the curious faces and sighed, knowing that he would be hounded unless he spilled the proverbial beans. "All right! Mr. Wilmington and I were curious as why the Judge would be receiving a letter from an address ... such as that one ... and in the process of handling the document, the envelope got a bit burnt and well ... I felt that the Judge was owed a ... certain guarantee of safe delivery so I restored the envelope - Without reading the letter -" Ezra glared at Buck and was surprised to see that everyone seemed to believe him, "and well, I was just wondering."
Nathan took the letter and studied the address, his face blank of any recognition, but he nevertheless asked Ezra, "You know this place?"
"No. No. Buck told me that he and Chris had frequented that Kansas City residence a few times."
The sudden spat of coughing from Josiah, Nathan and Chris had JD reaching across the table and snatching the envelope from Nathan. "Huh? I don't get ... why would the Judge get a letter from a friend of Chris and Buck's?"
Josiah laughed and slapped the young man on the back. "That's a real 'polite' way of putting it son. 'Friend!' I like that."
JD suddenly blushed and barely noted that Vin had removed the envelope and had held it for Chris to read. With both arms out of commission, Larabee was reluctant to move at all, well, except to take a few doses of whiskey. Struggling to make out the writing, Larabee frowned and stared at the address.
"I don't ..." without taking his eyes off the envelope, Chris continued, "Buck this ain't Miss Sally-Anne's place. That's on George's Town road, this is from some lawyers .... Buck?" Chris looked up to see the scoundrel, but the tall ladies' man's chair was empty, a loud "Woo Hoo HOO!" echoing down the boardwalk as Buck made his escape. Ezra's face was a mixture of horror, anger, shock, and amazement.
Disconnected words were stumbling out of the flabbergasted gambler. "He knew ... he knew ... he conned me. ME! Damn ... well ... I ... DAMN! That bet ... the bet..."
A sharp nudge from Vin had Chris laughing and adding to the gambler's consternation. "Yeah, Ezra, what about our bet?"
If a man could go from bright red to snow white in a heartbeat, then Ezra managed it. Eyes starting out on stalks the out-conned con man exploded out of his chair and raced out of the saloon. Not even the banging doors could mask the outraged shout that filled the mainstreet.
"BUCK WILMINGTON! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"
Five friends chuckled at the answering, "Hoo HOO!" and JD scratched his head bemusedly. "Did Buck outfox Ezra?"
"Yep kid, he sure did."
"Damn."
Five glasses clinked in a toast to the gambler who had taught too well and was now up to his neck in shi.... well to be polite and use a word Ezra would be more comfortable with ... merde!
The end.
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