INFANT CURIOSITIES
By: Rhicy
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."
