The Gambler’s Reunion 

a story in The Gambler’s Heart Series by Setcheti

Disclaimer: Don’t own the Seven, not trying to either.

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JD plopped down in his chair and tossed his hat down on his desk. "It's just too hot," he complained to the empty jail. He fanned out the stack of wanted posters that had just come in with the late afternoon stage and began dealing them out into two piles, frowning and shaking his head from time to time.

The door opened and he reached automatically for his gun; seeing his visitor, he relaxed and stood up. "Ma'am. Something I can do for you?"

The plump, middle-aged black woman smiled. "'Deed ah hope so, Sheriff," she said in a thick Southern accent. "Ah's lookin' for a man name o' Ezra Standish. Ah hear tell he's a lawman round these parts, so's ah thought ah'd ask here first."

JD hesitated; no one knew much about Ezra's past, and not knowing made him cautious. "Might I ask what you want him for, ma'am?"

He'd been afraid she'd be offended, but her smile widened and her brown eyes twinkled happily. "You must be a friend o' his."

"Yes ma'am, that I am. Ezra's a good man."

"'Deed he is," she agreed. "Always has been, too; don' you never let him tell you otherwise. Ah used to work for him, back in Virginia, and a bettah man ah ain't never known."

JD's eyes widened. "You were one of his…"

"Ah was his housekeepah," she interrupted sharply. "Mr. Ezra didn't hold with keepin' no slaves." She cocked her head at him. "Now ah ain't laid eyes him since the War an' didn't even know if he was still livin' or not; when ah found out he was here ah came straight away to see him."

"Sorry, ma'am." The young sheriff was embarrassed. "I didn't mean to…well, I just didn't mean to. Anyway, Ezra's out ridin' patrol right now, but he should be back anytime. I could tell him you're here when he checks in. You staying at the hotel?"

"Ah am, but ah'd prefer to wait right here if you don' mind, Sheriff; it's been that long since ah seen him. You mind an ol' colored lady's company for a while, Sheriff Dunne?"

JD collected himself and hurried to pull up a chair for her. "Not at all, ma'am." A thought struck him while she was seating herself. "Hey, how'd you know my name?"

She chuckled warmly. "Y'all seven are right famous, Sheriff; ah bin readin' all about you in the book that Mr. Steele wrote."

The young man blushed. "Aw, he exaggerated everything," he said, resuming his own chair. "None of us was too happy with him after we saw what he wrote. He did a nice job on the pictures, though."

"Deed he did," she agreed. "That was how ah found Mr. Ezra. It's been nigh on six years, an' ah was most sure he was dead; then one day ah sees his picture lookin' up at me from the cover of a dime novel jus' as true as life. Gave me a right turn, that it did."

"Gee, I bet it did after six years," JD whistled. The jailhouse door opened, and a tall, mustached cowboy stepped in. "Hey, Buck."

"Hey, kid, heard you had some company over here…" Buck took in the older woman sitting contentedly in the chair and removed his hat with a flourish, flashing her one of his charming smiles. "Howdy, ma'am; Buck Willmington at your service."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Willmington," she replied with a smile. "Ah'm Rosa May Parker."

"She's waitin' for Ez to get back from patrol," JD filled in. "She was his housekeeper in Virginia, just now found out he was alive. You here to take over for me?"

"Yep," Buck said mildly, sitting on a corner of the desk – but his dark eyes had narrowed at the mention of Virginia. "Is Ezra expectin' you, Miz Parker?"

She shook her head. "Lord no, child, ah'm 'most certain he thinks ah'm dead – knowin' Mr. Ezra, ah's probably got a grave marker back home right with the others. He was off to war when it all happened, you see, so he wouldn't a known no bettah."

"Ezra was in the war?" JD was surprised and showed it. "I could'a sworn he told me that war was for fools and soldiers, and that an intelligent man would stay at home to defend his own from both."

"He did – say that once, I mean," Buck said with a grimace, trying for a smile. "But kid, he never said he was that intelligent man." There was a clatter of horse's hooves outside, and the ladies' man frowned at the door. "Speak of the devil; here comes Johnny Reb now."

JD saw Rosa May give Buck a considering look, but she said nothing. A moment later Ezra breezed in, beating the trail dust off his flat-crowned black hat and complaining to no one in particular. "Good lord it's hot out there; not even the buzzards are…" He caught sight of the woman sitting across from JD and stopped. "I'm sorry, I didn't know we had a visitor…" His voice trailed off as he got a look at her face, and he took a staggering step backwards. "Dear lord, it can't be…Rosa May?!"

She stood up, beaming. "Mr. Ezra, ah never thought ah'd see you again."

His face was white. "Rosa May, I thought…" He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, enfolding her in a crushing embrace. "Oh lord, I thought you were dead! There was a grave right beside Emily's…"

The older woman returned the hug with tears in her eyes. "No, they took me with 'em." Her voice broke. "Ah couldn't do nothin' to save 'em, Mr. Ezra. Ah'm so sorry..."

"Don't be." Ezra pulled back and looked down at her, his own eyes swimming. "It's those murderin' blue-coated animals who should be sorry, not you. Did they…" He touched her cheek, searching her face with wide, worried green eyes. "Did they…hurt you?"

He saw the answer in her brown eyes and his head dropped down on her shoulder with what sounded like a sob; she stroked his chestnut hair soothingly. "Ah'm alive, Mr. Ezra; that's all that matters. And now we done found each other again." She captured his left hand and smiled sadly when her fingers found the worn band of cool metal. "Knew you wouldn't forget your promise."

"Nevah," he said softly. "I gave her mah word – though I ended up havin' to come West to keep it." He sniffed and cleared his throat, finding her eyes again. "How evah did you find me after all this time?"

Rosa May pulled away from him, fumbling in her handbag. She pulled out a thin, worn book and handed it to him, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Didn't you know you're famous now, Mr. Ezra?"

He took the book with a watery smile. "I never thought ah'd see the day when I was grateful to Jock Steele," he said, flipping through the pages and shaking his head. "But of course that doesn't mean ah won't be first in line to tar and feather the man if he shows his face here again – we nevah did see any royalties from this publication."

"That's the lawyer in you talkin'," she said, taking the book away from him. "Ah suppose y'all didn't sue him?"

Ezra shook his head. "He would have loved it – free publicity. Not that we wouldn't have won such a case quite easily, but the potential monetary recompense would most certainly not have been worth the aggravation caused by our resultant notoriety." He caught the questioning look JD shot at Buck and winced; he'd forgotten they were there. "Mr. Steele doesn't have any money, Mr. Dunne, and the added publicity would have made our jobs that much harder."

JD had the grace to look embarrassed. "Didn't know you were a lawyer, Ezra."

The gambler smirked. "You nevah asked." Rosa May smacked his arm and he jumped. "Whatevah was that for?"

She frowned at him, but her eyes were warm. "That was for someone else who ain't here to keep you in line, Mr. Ezra."

He rubbed the offended arm and grimaced in pretended hurt. "She wouldn't have hit me that hard, Rosa May," he complained. The two of them shared a look of sad, fond reminiscence, and then Ezra remembered himself again and his mask dropped back into place. "Well, gentlemen, I believe we shall remove our family reunion to a more private location," he told the two gaping lawmen. "Perhaps we shall see you at dinner later this evenin'."

Rosa May nodded to the two men. "Mr. Wilmington, Sheriff. Thank you for lettin' me wait in here."

"It was our pleasure, ma'am," Buck said solemnly, echoed by JD. Ezra pushed the door back open and offered Rosa May his arm, wrapping his own hand over her fingers when she took it, and then they were gone.

JD stared at the door, a thoughtful look on his face. "Buck, what was all that about?"

The ladies' man sighed. "I think I know, JD, but I ain't certain I want to talk about it. Them were some mighty bad times." He was thinking about another hot afternoon two years ago when a red-coated Southern conman had quickly appraised Nathan and refused to ride with him; they'd always assumed it was simple bigotry, but now Buck wasn't so sure. And that business at the Seminole village… He shook his head. "I need to talk to Chris about this; could you send him down here for me?" JD started to protest, but his friend silenced him with an upraised hand. "No, you go on; this ain't no talk I want to be havin' in the saloon. And have Chris bring a bottle with him – no, make that two bottles. Wouldn't want to run short."

JD stared at him, wide-eyed and slightly hurt, then nodded. "Sure thing, Buck. I'll be over at the church helpin' Josiah if you need me."

Buck watched him go, then slumped into the vacated chair and propped his feet up on the desk, staring at the cracked ceiling. "God damned war," he swore softly. "Why couldn't it have all just gone away? Why'd it have to follow me way the hell out here?"

JD had a lot to think about on his walk to the saloon, but none of his thoughts fit together to make a picture that told him what was going on. He didn't even bother to dust himself off when he pushed through the swinging doors and approached Chris at his usual table. "Chris, Buck wants you at the jail."

Larabee turned his attention away from the window – he'd picked this spot as his own because it gave him a wide view of the street – and frowned at the young sheriff. "Problem?"

"Don't rightly know," JD shrugged, a note of resentment audible in his voice. "He wouldn't talk to me, just said to send you down with two bottles of whiskey – didn't want to run short."

Chris' eyes narrowed; this wasn't good, not good at all, if his oldest friend was requesting him and a large amount of whiskey together. And whatever it was, Buck obviously hadn't shared it with JD. He stood up. "Okay, I'm on it. Thanks, JD."

"Sure, no problem." The kid touched his hat brim with two fingers and marched back out into the street; Chris saw him head in the direction of the church and breathed a silent sigh of relief; Josiah would take care of JD. He just hoped that he himself could take care of Buck.

JD had barely taken off his jacket when Josiah put down his tools with a sigh. "Tell me," he rumbled.

The young man raised his eyebrows. "How'd you know?"

"Experience." The ex-preacher dropped down on the steps leading up to the crude altar and motioned JD to do the same. "Your face gave it away; whatever it was, it bothered you mighty bad. Now tell me."

JD did. "I don't understand, Josiah," he said once the story was told. "Buck said he wasn't certain he wanted to talk about it, but then he wanted to talk to Chris; why is that?"

Josiah sighed again and rubbed at the graying stubble on his jaw. "War ain't easy, son," he said slowly. "Man does things in war – or he sees things done – that shouldn't happen anywhere, anytime, to anyone. And then, once the war is over, he has to deal with that as best he can. Some try to justify those actions, some to deny or forget them, others just live with the pain and shame and anger they carry like a wound that never heals. I believe Brother Buck is one that tried to forget; Ezra and Chris are the kind that carry it."

"But Ezra ain't angry like Chris."

"Yes, he is," Josiah corrected gently. "Ezra just doesn't keep it out where everyone can see it."

"An' Ezra don't let his anger control him like Chris does," Vin's quiet voice added from the doorway, startling them. "I just come from the jail an' I heard some of what was goin' on. Now, I know you wouldn't think that Chris an' Ezra were much alike, but that's just 'cause they handle things in different ways." The tracker walked in and made himself comfortable on the floor, looking at JD. "I remember one time when Chris was ventin' his spleen on everyone, but mostly on Ezra. Ez was just ignorin' him for the most part, just sat there drinkin' alone an' shufflin' his cards, finally asked him if there was a problem. Chris got pissed and left, an' Buck said that it was a hard time for Chris 'cause Adam's birthday was comin' up. Then he lit out after him, an' I was the only one that heard Ezra – he was talkin' real quiet, not even lookin' up from his cards. He said, 'What a coincidence, yesterday was my daughter's'."

Josiah felt a chill go up his spine. "Dear god," he whispered. "I remember the day that happened – but I didn't hear him say that." A sickened knot of remorse twisted in his stomach; he unfortunately did remember himself and Nathan upbraiding the Southerner later for not showing some 'decent sympathy' for Chris' pain, asserting that none of them had experienced a loss such as the gunslinger had. Lord, how did I miss the pain in his eyes when my unworthily thrown stone struck him? God forgive me for the sin of self-righteous blindness…

JD was obviously disturbed. "So what he was talking about with Rosa May…"

"Union soldiers must have killed Ezra's family." Josiah set his self-recriminations aside for later and shared a look with Vin. "Sounds like they 'liberated' Rosa May for their own purposes."

"Ez must've been off fightin' when it happened," Vin added. "Or they would have killed him, too. Wonder who else they burned up in the house?"

The young sheriff's eyes widened. "How do you know they…"

Josiah took a deep breath. "JD, this is why Buck wouldn't talk about it. The Union Army wasn't just out to win the war…"

"…they was out to hurt the South," Vin finished. "To punish us for secedin' from their Union in the first place." JD's eyebrows went up, and Vin grinned. "Yeah, kid, I was a Rebel too – almost went on the owlhoot with some o' them Missouri boys when they told us to give up our guns, ended up lightin' a shuck back to Texas instead an' holin' up with the Indians for a while." His expression darkened. "Damn good thing, too."

"Amen to that," Josiah said. "Heard about what happened to those Missouri boys – damn shame, that was." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, the Union Army burned everything in their path, not just the plantations and the big Southern mansions. They burned everything they couldn't take with 'em; the South was rich, JD," he explained. "That was a big part of what got the war started in the first place – freein' the slaves was just their rallyin' call."

The young sheriff was shocked. "But…but slavery's…"

"Wrong," Vin finished for him. "It's dead wrong. Lotta Southerners thought so too, though, so don't you believe it when you hear folks say that all of us thought Negros was animals to be owned, cause that's a bald-faced lie. What you gotta remember is that war ain't about provin' who's right or wrong, it's about seein' whose boots make bigger tracks – my captain told me that, an' he was the smartest man I ever did meet."

"Sounds like somethin' Barkdale would say," commented a richly accented baritone. The three men froze, and Ezra chuckled. "Sorry to interrupt this discussion I apparently initiated, gentlemen, but Rosa May wanted to see the church; had I known you were re-drawin' the Mason-Dixon line we would have waited until tomorrow."

JD was the first to recover. "I'm sorry, Ezra," he said, scrambling to his feet, a blush staining his cheeks. "I just wanted to know and Buck wouldn't talk to me, so I asked Josiah. You ain't mad, are you?"

"Mr. Wilmington's reticence is understandable," the gambler said, coming down the aisle toward them with Rosa May on his arm and seating her on one of the worn pews. "Not everyone who was involved in the conflict is able to discuss the experience. Howevah, that doesn't mean that such questions should go unanswered." He put a hand on the young man's shoulder and looked him in the eye, frowning thoughtfully; Josiah caught his breath as he saw Ezra's mask drop away completely for the first time in their acquaintance, revealing the contemplative, grief-ravaged man that had concealed his pain behind it. "JD, I could never be angry with you for wantin' to understand, and no one else should be, either. And you can always feel free to come to me with your questions as well – bearin' in mind, of course, that who is around when you ask me will determine if I am able to answer you or not. All right?"

JD nodded. "Thanks, Ezra, that means a lot to me. Miz Parker, I hope we didn't upset you."

"Not at all, honey," she said, smiling. "Ah agree with Mr. Ezra; some questions got to be asked, so's we don't forget the answers. An' you can call me Rosa May, all right? Friends should use first names."

She was looking at Ezra when she said it, and the gambler flinched. JD laughed. "Yes ma'am."

By silent agreement they put talk of the war aside after that and spent the next hour answering Rosa May's questions about the town and hearing about the boarding house she helped to run in Carson City, after which the four men shook off their heat-induced lassitude and escorted her to the hotel for supper. "Don't expect much," Ezra warned her quietly. "The individual that prepares the food here is nowhere near a cook."

"If'n you wasn't livin' in a hired room above the saloon that wouldn't be no problem," she told him pointedly. He flushed and she squeezed his arm. "You gonna have to move on eventually, Mr. Ezra; the missus wouldn't have wanted you to be alone."

He returned the squeeze but shook his head. "I nevah promised her that, Rosa May." Seating her at the table next to Josiah, he gave the older man a meaningful look. "Someone needs to go check on the jail," he said evenly. "I'll be back."

JD came halfway out of his chair but Vin pulled him back down. "But Vin, they're in there talking about…what if they…"

"That's why he went," Vin told the young sheriff. "So's they wouldn't take it out on…"

"Anyone but him," Rosa May finished softly. The three men stared at her and she smiled, shaking her head. "He ain't changed, not one bit – not that ah thought he would've, mind you. That man will be Robin Hood 'til the day he dies, defendin' the innocent an' protectin' the weak – an' denyin' that he's doin' it with the last breath in his body."

Josiah and Vin shared a look and then started to grin. "So you're tellin' us, ma'am, that ol' Ezra's always been like this?"

She nodded, obviously proud. "Ain't many 'round this ol' world like mah Mr. Ezra."

"No, there ain't," Josiah agreed. His grin widened at JD's dumbfounded expression. "Brother JD, you should be feeling mighty vindicated right now; you've always stood up for our wayward gambler and now you've been proved more right than you knew."

JD blushed but sat a little straighter in his chair when he saw the approving look the older woman was giving him. "Um, I just had a feeling about him, and Mama told me to always trust my feelings."

"Sounds like you had a fine wise woman for a mama," Rosa May told him. "It's a pity every boy can't have a mama like that."

Josiah answered the question she hadn't asked. "Yes, we've met Miss Maude," he rumbled, a touch of chagrin evident in his voice.

"That we have," said Vin darkly. The tracker still hadn't entirely forgiven his friends for their part in Maude's last con, and the topic of saloon ownership still wasn't something anyone wanted to mention with him around; in his own quiet way, Vin was fiercely protective of Ezra. "Seen a sight too much of her, ya ask me."

Josiah gave the younger man a reproving look, but Rosa May just nodded. "Ah guess Missus Standish ain't changed neither," she said sadly. "Ah guess ah was hopin'…but she prob'ly don't like him lawin' any bettah than she liked him lawyerin'."

"She didn't like him bein' a lawyer?" JD was confused. "But lawyers make lots of money, don't they? I mean, ain't bein' a lawyer kind of like bein' a conman?"

The colored woman chuckled and patted his hand. "No, child, not all lawyers is like that; Mr. Ezra, he was a public defender. Ah think he made more money playin' poker on Sat'day nights than he did all week in court, but he said he'd rathah be a gambler that amused himself defendin' the law than be a lawyer that made money gamblin' with it." She chuckled again, and this time the laughter reached her eyes. "An' he shore didn't hold with no one else doin' it, neither. Why, ah remember one time in particular, when he'd been workin' on this case against some slick con man who'd taken a poor family's deed to their house. Mr. Ezra had near run himself into the ground tryin' to help 'em, an' Miz Christina was that worried 'bout him that she sent me to the court that day to make sure he made it home all right after the trial. So ah sat there in the court an' watched him save that there Irishman an' his wife an' little ones from losin' all they had, but when it was over Mr. Ezra asked could he approach the bench; of course, that con man's ol' crooked lawyer he went up there too – weren't the first time them two had squared off in court, an' he wanted to see what was goin' on. An' Mr. Ezra he put down a twenty dollar gold piece in front o' that judge, an' the judge asked him what it was for. Mr. Ezra said, 'It's for mah bail,' an' then he turned 'round an' knocked that other lawyer clean into next week. 'We're supposed to be upholdin' the law, not twistin' it to line our pockets,' he says. 'Ah see you in here again, ah'm callin' you out.' Then he just steps over that lawyer cool as you please, gathers up his papers an' walks over to me to offer his arm so's we could leave. Ah didn't never see that other lawyer 'round there again."

The three lawmen were still laughing over that when a snort from behind them startled them all. "Guess that didn't work in Judge Travis' courtroom," Chris commented wryly; he had been standing and listening for the past few minutes, unnoticed by his men. He tipped his hat to Rosa May before taking it off. "Ma'am."

"Rosa May, this is Chris Larabee," JD said politely. "Chris, this is Miz Rosa May Parker."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Larabee," Rosa May told the tall gunslinger with a smile. "Aren't you joinin' us?"

Chris relaxed and matched her smile as he sat down. "Pleasure's all mine, Miz Parker. Thank you." Josiah raised an inquiring eyebrow and was surprised to see his fearless leader come very close to squirming in his chair. "Uh, Ezra will be along in a minute; he's helping Buck…clean up before coming to dinner."

"Horse trough?" Vin asked casually, grinning when Chris nodded. "Guess you cleaned your own self up, huh cowboy?"

The gunslinger wouldn't look at him. "Didn't really get dirty," he said evenly. "So, Miz Parker, how long had it been since you'd seen Ezra last?"

"Six years," she answered. "Ain't seen him since he went off to war. After what happened, ah knew he most likely thought ah was dead too. I weren't sure he was even still alive until I seen that Jock Steele book with his picture on the cover – gave me a right turn, that did, knowin' he'd been that close for all of two years an' I never even knew it."

"Not half the turn it gave me to see you sittin' there in the jail this afternoon," Ezra said, returning to his seat. A subdued and slightly shamefaced Buck Willmington, wet hair slicked back and a bruise forming on his jaw, took a seat next to Chris. The gambler didn't even spare him a glance. "Good lord, Rosa May, I think you took several years off my life!"

"You should'a seen the look on his face," JD told Chris, grinning. "Right, Buck?"

Willmington shook himself. "Yeah, I ain't never seen nobody get the drop on ol' Ez like that," he agreed, with only a shade of his usual enthusiasm for teasing. "Thought he was gonna faint dead away."

"Ah almost did," Ezra chuckled. "As ah'm certain you would have yourself, Mr…" he glanced at Rosa May, "Buck, had you just come off a long an' tirin' patrol to be confronted with a presumably deceased family member."

Chris raised an eyebrow at the appellation but kept his mouth shut. Josiah cleared his throat. "Ezra, that warrant the Judge had out on you…that wouldn't have happened to be for contempt of court, would it?"

JD almost choked on that, and the gambler scowled. "Not that it's important, but yes, it was. If there is one thing I cannot abide, it's a crooked lawyer."

Buck's eyes widened. "But Ez," he said, dumbfounded. "Why the hell didn't you tell anyone that two years ago? Why'd you let us all think you were some kind of…"

"Criminal?" Ezra drawled, a slightly bitter twist to his smile. "Y'all saw what you expected to see, Buck; who was I to disabuse you of your preconceived notions? And besides, any of you could have asked Judge Travis at any time and he would have told you…"

"…That Ezra was defending some poor fool who got himself tangled up in one of Maude's cons," Chris finished for him. He allowed himself a sly, satisfied smile at the shocked look on the gambler's face and the astonishment on everyone else's. "I like knowin' who I'm riding with – especially after they risk their own neck to save my life."

There was a moment of awkward silence, and luckily supper was served before anyone tried to break it. Five men tucked into their food without delay, the sixth joined them after pushing his portion around with his fork as though looking for something. Rosa May looked at her own plate and shook her head before picking up her fork. "You done tol' no less than the truth, Mr. Ezra," she said with evident disgust. "The man what made this meal ain't nowhere near a cook."

Five men looked up from their food in utter surprise; the sixth put down his fork with a sigh. "Actually, this is one of his more edible culinary endeavors; Mr. Matthews must not have been indulgin' himself in his habitual pursuit of inebriation today."

Buck snorted. "Ezra, why can't you just say he's a drunk?"

Rosa May's scowl became a delighted smile when four voices answered as one, "He just did."

* * *

He crept into the bedroom in the pre-dawn hours of the morning, not wanting to wake his wife if she was sleeping but needing to see her – he couldn't leave without saying goodbye one last time. He'd already made a silent farewell to Emily Rose, kissing her rosy cheeks and ruffling her golden curls one last time before slipping from her room, and he felt like he'd left half his heart with her.

The other half of his heart was awake, waiting for him, all the pain he was feeling in her clear amber eyes. She motioned for him to turn around so she could check the fit of his uniform and sighed when he turned in a slow circle. "Ah do love a man in uniform."

"Ah certainly hope so, since ah'm wearin' one," he teased back, smoothing the heavy gray fabric over his chest. He sat down beside her on the bed and took her in his arms carefully, mindful of the slight bulge beneath her nightgown that marked the presence of their coming second child. "Christina…"

A finger to his lips silenced him, and she stared up into his tear-reddened emerald eyes as though she were looking straight into his soul. "Ah know you have to go – and ah know you're duty-bound to, even though you don't want to leave us alone."

"We're not even fightin' for our ideals any more," he said sadly. "Now we're just tryin' to keep them from destroyin' everything to prove their point. Ah wish you'd have let me move the three of you away from here, or at least into the city until these murderous bastards have stopped trying to burn the South out from under us. Ah'm still afraid ah'll come home to…"

She silenced him with a desperate kiss which he returned with equal feeling, needing the comfort she provided and leaving his worst fear unvoiced. When he pulled away, she was shaking her head. "Ezra," she said seriously. "Ah don't think anything like that will happen here, but if it did…Ezra, promise me you won't harbor the desire for vengeance in your heart?"

He froze, speechless, at the magnitude of what she was asking of him. "Christina, darlin'…"

"Promise me, Ezra!" Her voice had an edge of desperation in it, and there were tears in her eyes. "Please! Ah couldn't go on to mah rest knowin' that the man ah loved had become a monster because of me. You have to promise me!"

Tears sprang up in his eyes as well. "All right," he said brokenly. He carefully unwound her shaking hand from the folds of his coat and brought it to his lips. "You have mah word, cherie; ah won't seek revenge if…the unthinkable happens." He pulled her back against his chest, holding her tightly as though trying to protect her from the horrors he'd been fearing for weeks now. "Dear God, please don't let it come to that. Ah couldn't live without you and Emily and Rosa May; ah love you all too much to lose you."

"And we love you too much to see you lost," she whispered, her own arms tightening around him. "Please be careful, Ezra; ah don't want to be a widow, either."

He chuckled mirthlessly into her honey-golden hair, wishing just this once that he could lie to her – but he had never, ever been able to tell an untruth to his Christina. "Ah'll do everything in mah power to ensure that that eventuality does not occur – but you must promise me you'll move on if it does, darlin', and mournin' be damned; the country will be in complete upheaval, and the four of you shall require a man to protect you if ah can't come back to do it."

She snuggled closer to him with a little sob. "It won't come to that."

"Ah certainly hope not…but this is war, mah darlin' Christina, and ah am a soldier." He felt her nod against his chest and held her tightly for a few more moments, wondering if she could hear his heart breaking. "Darlin, ah…ah have to go now."

"Ah know." They kissed one last time, and then he broke away and left the room without allowing himself to look back – he knew he'd never be able to leave if he did. A whisper followed him out. "Goodbye, mah Ezra."

Ezra woke up with a start, his wife's name on his lips, his face wet with tears. Blinking, he registered the familiar surroundings of his lonely room above the saloon and then dropped back onto his damp pillow, throwing one arm over his eyes to shut out the moonlight. "God damned war," he whispered. "Why'd you have to take them away? Why couldn't you at least have taken me too?"

* * *

Ezra rode out on the morning patrol right after breakfast, leaving Rosa May in the care of Josiah and Vin; the large preacher wasn't at all surprised when Chris and JD showed up at the church shortly thereafter. "Mornin', boys," he greeted them jovially. "I'm guessin' you're not here to work."

JD looked slightly shamefaced, but Chris just grinned. "Nope," he said. He had stopped at the newspaper office earlier and had a long talk with Mary Travis; together they had composed several telegrams and she had told him to expect replies before noon. Until then he intended to find out everything that a telegram couldn't tell him. "Told ya last night, I like to know about the men I'm ridin' with. I was hopin' that Rosa May might not mind answering a few questions for me. Ma'am?"

"Ah don' mind," she answered slowly. "But I's got some questions of mah own ah want answered as well."

Chris nodded, unsurprised. "Thought you might," he replied, settling himself opposite her on the pew and motioning for JD and Josiah to be seated as well. "You want to know what Miss Maude did to him."

"An' you want to know 'bout what happened in Virginia," she countered. Her brown eyes were sad. "He didn't never mention even havin' a family, did he?"

"Not a word," Josiah said sadly. "Until you showed up yesterday, Rosa May, we didn't even know he was from Virginia."

"And he never mentioned bein' in the war, either," added JD.

"No, he wouldn't've," the older woman said heavily. "Y'all see, Mr. Ezra made him a promise to Miz Christina before he left to go fight – she wouldn't let him leave without him swearin' to her that he wouldn't harbor vengeance in his heart if'n somethin' were to happen to us whilst he was away. Mr. Ezra nevah could refuse the missus anythin' she asked of him, but ah think swearin' that to her 'bout broke his heart."

JD's eyes were wide. "But…why'd she make him do it?"

Rosa May dabbed at her eyes with a dainty handkerchief. "'Cause she knowed what he'd become if'n she didn't," she said softly. "Mr. Ezra he don' show it, but he's a dangerous man; Miz Christina tol' me that she didn't want to be responsible for settin' a monster loose in a world that seen enough of 'em already, an' she knew he'd keep a promise to her if'n it killed him. Ah think he came way out here so's it wouldn't."

"I think so, too." Chris was silent for a moment. "So it was the Union Army that…"

She nodded, her pleasant face hardening. "It were a bunch o' them Union Negroes," she said with considerable disgust, crushing the handkerchief in a clenched fist. "Swooped down on us one day outta the blue an' jus' started killin' and burnin', sayin' that they was finishin' what the Preacher started – usin' that murderin' Nat Turner's name like he was some kind o' patron saint for Union Negroes or somethin'." Her jaw tightened. "Fust time in mah life ah was evah ashamed o' the color o' mah skin."

JD swallowed convulsively and turned questioning eyes on the men around him; only Vin, who had come in and silently settled himself beside Josiah, would meet his sickened gaze. "Yeah, kid, it's true; Union thought they could get our boys to desert and head back home if'n they knew their families was in danger like that – ain't no one in the South forgot the Preacher."

"Union didn't give anyone orders to do something like that," Chris said in a quiet, troubled voice.

"Nope," Vin answered in kind. "But they didn't do nothin' to prevent it from happenin', neither – you throw a match on a pile of powder, ya gotta expect it's gonna blow." The tracker caught and held his friend's eyes, no blame evident in the cerulean depths. "War's over, Cowboy; an' last I heard, you wasn't the one that started none of it."

"Did my part."

"So did Mr. Ezra." Chris turned startled eyes on Rosa May; the colored woman smiled at him and reached out to pat his knee. "Mr. Chris, ah'm sure you did your uniform proud; if'n you weren't that kind o' man, mah Mr. Ezra wouldn't be takin' orders from you nohow – if'n he respects your judgement enough for him to ride with one o' them Union Negroes on your say-so, then ah'd say you should respect it too." She sniffed. "Ah's right proud of him for even bein' able to speak with the man, much less work with him every day."

JD's eyes widened again, but the other men were nodding their understanding. "When we first asked him to ride with us, he didn't want to ride with Nathan," Vin explained to the younger man. "I understood it, but I know the others thought he was just bein' a bigot – and Nate still thinks so." He turned shrewd, sympathetic eyes on Rosa May. "So Ez knew who did it?"

"Ah'm shore of it," the colored woman said sadly. "Wouldn't 'a bin anybody left 'round there to tell him nothin' when he come back, but somebody would o' knowed an' he wouldn't o' stopped askin' till he found out the truth."

"Nobody left?" JD looked from one solemn face to another, mystified. "How could there not be anybody left?"

Rosa May smiled sadly at him. "Child, there be things that happen in war that you can't even imagine, things so bad you think you done gone to Hell." Seeing he still didn't understand, she took a deep breath and began to tell her story.

Some time later JD slipped through the church doors and slumped against the rough wall, closing his eyes; his mind was still replaying the horrible events Rosa May had described and he felt sick to his stomach. He hadn't wanted to appear weak in front of the others, so he had quickly excused himself by claiming that he needed to go check on the jail; he had a feeling that the lie hadn't been believed, but he knew no one would say anything.

A familiar voice – the last one he wanted to hear – startled his eyes back open. "Hey, kid, you look positively green."

JD swallowed and pushed away from the wall. "Not now, Buck." Maybe he could go to the livery…

The ladies' man caught his arm before he'd taken two steps. "Hey, hold up there, Junior; what's the problem? Ya know you can always talk to ol' Buck…"

"Not about this." A touch of the previous day's resentment colored the young sheriff's tone, and he pulled his arm out of his friend's loose grasp and kept walking.

The livery was dim and cool, the smell of horses reassuring to someone who had spent the better part of his life taking care of such animals. JD sank down on a hay bale and dropped his head into his hands; flames and screams rose up behind his eyes and he shuddered. How could something like that happen? he thought numbly. What kind of people would do something like that, kill women and children…kill a baby…

Buck's strong hand grasped his shoulder. "JD, talk to me. If they were in there talkin' 'bout what I think they were…kid, you need to talk it out or it'll eat you up on the inside."

JD didn't move or even lift his head. The baby… "Then I guess I'll have an empty spot to put whiskey in, won't I."

The comment hit home; Buck removed his hand and backed off, leaning heavily against the rough wooden wall and slowly taking off his hat. "Kid – JD, I…" His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat. "Whiskey won't fill it up, just makes you forget it's there for a while."

"Don't want to forget it," the younger man sighed. Yellow curtains blackening in a burning window… "Just don't know how I feel about knowin' it."

"I do," the ladies' man said softly. "Like you got dirt on ya that won't wash off."

"No," JD said, shaking his dark head. "Like I done woke up from this wonderful dream…an' now I can't close my eyes again to get it back." One gunshot, another…

Buck winced. "That bad?"

Soldiers in blue, laughing… "That bad." JD suddenly looked up, brown eyes harder than Buck had ever seen them, his voice ragged and cold. "You were with Chris, right?"

But Buck had seen the little flicker of fear his friend had tried to hide; suddenly he saw his own avoidance the way JD would have…as the possibility of guilt, the shadow of a monster far more horrible than the one Ezra's wife had feared. "Yeah, kid," he said gently. "I was with Chris." He pried himself away from the wall and went back to JD's side, forcing a chuckle. "Hell, we was prob'ly tradin' shots with Ez."

A telegram, clutched in a frightened hand…an' she tol' me, 'Thank goodness he'll nevah have to know, Rosa May; if those Army doctors were right, he's already there an' waitin' for us…' Warm tears welled up and melted the controlled facade JD had tried to maintain as he shook his head. "Only if you was firin' on a hospital, Buck."

The ladies' man looked down at the young sheriff for a long moment, then sat down on the bale beside him and pulled him into a hard hug, one hand lifting to stroke the dark head. "Nope," he whispered reassuringly. "Never did that, neither."

Chris came back to the newspaper office just before noon, wondering if he'd been right; the look Mary met him with told him he had. "How did you know?" she asked. "Did you remember him?"

The gunslinger took a deep breath, shaking his head. "No, just a feeling – that, and he can drop a cannonball on a flagpole from three hundred feet away. Tell me."

She circled around her desk and picked up the telegram. "Captain Ezra Peyton Standish, Fourth Artillery Battalion out of Richmond. Field promoted after his commanding officers were killed at Fredricksburg and he took over to lead what was left of his men to safety. Wounded once, not seriously, but almost died of a fever that swept through the ranks some time later. Released from active duty in April of 1863 and sent home to complete his convalescence…"

"…But there was no home left to return to," Chris finished grimly. "Rosa May said they were notified that Ezra was down with a swamp fever and that the doctors didn't think he'd recover. A few weeks later what she describes as 'a horde of Union Negroes' swept down on the community and started killing and burning – finishing what The Preacher started, they said."

"Oh god." She paled and sank down into her chair. "His family?"

"They killed his wife and daughter and the baby and burned them up with the house," the gunslinger told her, his turquoise eyes dark with his own remembered agony. "His wife had had a difficult time birthing their son and was still too weak to leave her bed; Rosa May refused to go without her. One of the neighbors tried to help and was killed as well, but the soldiers decided that Rosa May might have…other uses and took her along with them as a prisoner. She and two other captives eventually managed to escape, but they had to flee the South and she was positive that Ezra was dead. They've been settled in Nevada for years now, running a boarding house." He gave her a meaningful look. "She's heading back there on the stage tomorrow afternoon…but Nathan's due back from the village tonight."

It took a moment for the implications of the former Union stretcher-bearer's return to sink in, and when they did Mary gasped. "Oh no…Chris, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he admitted frankly. "I know Ezra will try to keep the two of them apart, but that might make it even worse." He cocked his head at her. "Any ideas?"

Mary's mouth dropped open. "Chris Larabee, are you actually asking me for advice?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied, a slight smile twitching the corners of his mouth upwards. "And if you have any, I might actually take it, too."

That made her laugh, but she sobered quickly. "Then I guess it's my misfortune not to have any this time," she told him ruefully. "This could get really ugly, couldn't it? What do you think Rosa May will do?"

"Rosa May won't do anything," Chris said with a frown. "She told me she's proud of Ez for even being able to ride with Nathan and she won't do anything to upset the applecart – I think she's hopin' that if his promise is wearin' so easy these days he might eventually settle down again. But I don't think that she'll hold back if Nate starts something on his own."

"And he will," Mary sighed, nodding. "He's a good man, but not when it comes to Mr. Standish."

"You can say that again," Chris agreed. He thought for a minute. "Say, Mary, why don't you have dinner with all of us tonight?"

A twinkle appeared in her eye. "Because Nathan will behave himself in front of me or because you're asking me to dinner?" she asked. When he blushed, she laughed. "I have an idea; why don't we have dinner here? I'll get Rosa May to help me…"

"…and then Ezra will come along to be close to Rosa May – which'll keep them both out of Nathan's line of fire," Chris finished with a smile. "Knew you'd have an idea – or is this your way of asking me to dinner?"

"Both," she said mischievously. "Would you turn me down either way?"

Chris grinned. "Nope."

Mary ended up enlisting Rosa May's help by asking her about a recipe; the two of them quickly became so occupied in the kitchen that a bemused Ezra wandered down to the jail in search of company. Chris was sitting out in front when he got there. "Is anything interestin' goin' on?"

Chris grinned lazily and shook his head. "You get kicked out of the kitchen?"

"No, I escaped," the gambler chuckled. "I believe you were not aware of the force you were unleashin' when you concocted this arrangement with Mrs. Travis." If Chris was surprised that Ezra had figured out his plan, he didn't show it. "Rosa May is a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen, and she is convinced that you, Mr. Tanner and myself are in desperate need of 'feedin' up'. Past experience and the relatively short amount of time allotted to her tells me that means okra soup and most likely sweet potato pie, and we're only lucky that she didn't feel there was time to send us out huntin' or fishin' – although I'm certain she has thoroughly upbraided Mrs. Travis for not askin' for help sooner so they might have had more time to prepare. Ah myself have already received mah fourth admonishment of the day for livin' in 'bachelor lodgin's' over the saloon with no proper amenities."

Chris' grin widened. "Sounds like someone here's been right domesticated," he said with wicked twinkle in his eye. "Or as Buck would say…whipped."

Ezra leaned against one of the porch supports and tipped back his hat, regarding the amused gunslinger with a sardonically raised eyebrow and a small, rueful smile. "There's no shame in bein' managed by two adorin' women," he countered. "Ah had every intention of lettin' that happy state of affairs continue for the rest of mah mortal existence and enjoyin' every moment of it – much as ah'm sure you did yourself."

The comment was carefully casual, but Chris realized with not a little surprise that for the first time in years he actually didn't mind talking about his family – especially with the one man he now knew could understand. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the rickety chair. "I only had the one doin' it to me, but I know what you mean," he said. "When a man marries a strong-willed woman, he'd best be ready to learn how to accommodate her – and it's well worth the effort."

"Amen to that," the gambler agreed. "Ah was already dreadin' the day when mah little Emily Rose reached courtin' age; findin' a man both accomodatin' and appreciative would have been a task of Herculean proportions." A slight twinkle appeared in his eye. "Of course, had ah known you then, we might have arranged an appropriate match between us."

It was an obvious compliment, and Chris pretended to consider it. "Hmm, a lawyer's daughter and a rancher's son; could work, could work. What kind of dowry you offerin'?"

"A more than adequate one, ah assure you," Ezra replied, playing along. He pulled out his watch and opened the back, something Chris could never remember seeing him do before. He took a fond look and then, smiling, handed the watch to the gunslinger. "See for yourself."

Chris took the watch gingerly and looked at the little miniature; it showed a lovely dark-eyed woman holding a golden angel of a child on her lap, oh-so-familiar wide green eyes sparkling and happy in a rosy-cheeked face that was identical to her mother's. "Good lord I guess," he said, astonished, handing the watch back with just a touch of regret. "They're beautiful, Ezra."

"Ah think so." The gambler took one last look and then tucked the watch back into his pocket. "If you're agreeable, then, ah'd say we go seal this betrothal arrangement over a drink; first one of us to pass on gets to tell them they're promised. Deal?"

"Sounds good." Chris levered himself out of the chair and held out his hand, smirking. "Guess I'll have to make sure you go before me, then; the wives won't be happy that we didn't consult them first. You can explain it to 'em with that silver tongue of yours, maybe keep us out of trouble."

Ezra shook the offered hand firmly. "We'll go together," he insisted. "More than likely in this line of work anyway, and then we can defend each other – mah 'silver tongue', as you call it, nevah once worked on Christina."

"I never could get around Sarah either," Chris chuckled, and slapped the gambler on the back. "Together it is, then. C'mon, let's go get that drink."

They were still in the saloon an hour later, swapping tales of past domesticity over a languid game of cards, when Nathan arrived back from the Seminole village. The tall healer was obviously in a foul mood, and it was with a slight pang of regret that Chris saw Ezra's guard go back up behind a veneer of polite gentility. "Why Mr. Jackson, did somethin' go amiss durin' your sojourn at the village?"

"They had a rough winter," Nathan scowled, dropping into a chair. The gambler's accent, noticeably thickened after a day's contact with Rosa May, only added to his irritation. "Saw Vin on patrol on my way in; how come you ain't out there?"

"Took mah turn this mornin'," Ezra said placidly, sipping his whiskey. "And a fine mornin' it was, too. Ah trust you had a pleasant ride back to town?"

The healer just snorted. Chris broke his silence. "Problems at the village, Nathan?"

"They just had some sickness, lost one of the old men," Nathan sighed. "And one of the young fellows seems to have set his sights on Rain."

"Thought you two had an agreement, she was goin' to wait for you?"

"We do an' she is," the healer said glumly. "It just got under my skin is all."

"Understandable," Ezra commiserated. "Ah take it you did not attempt to dissuade the young man from his illicit pursuit?"

"I didn't pick no fight with 'im, if that's what you're tryin' to ask me," was Nathan's irritable reply. "I don't want to start no trouble up at the village – not that I'd expect you to understand that, seein' as how you start trouble almost everywhere you go jus' by bein' there."

"Trouble is often a useful diversion," the gambler agreed, his bland expression never flickering. He smoothly drained his glass and stood up, scooping up his hat from the table with one hand while tucking the cards in his pocket with the other. "Well, gentlemen, ah believe ah should be about mah business. Be seein' you at dinner, then?"

"Count on it," Chris replied.

"We're all invited to Mrs. Travis' domecile for our evenin' meal," the gambler informed Nathan with a professional smile. "As ah saw Mr. Matthews leave here with a full bottle of whiskey earlier, I believe you will find the invitation to be an opportune one." And with that Ezra tipped his hat to the two men and was gone.

Nathan began to talk again before the batwing doors had even stopped swinging, and the gunslinger listened with half an ear and made appropriate noises; but his mind's eye was filled, not with the healer's descriptions of the depredations poverty and a long winter had wreaked on the Seminole village, but with images of a lovely golden-haired mother and child who had waited, as his own family had, for a man who had come home too late. Pouring himself another drink, he wondered if seeing Rosa May had brought back the gambler's nightmares.

On arriving at Mary's a few hours later, Chris found that Ezra had, as expected, returned to Rosa May's side directly after leaving the saloon – and had apparently been hard at work ever since. "You should have been here earlier, Chris," Mary whispered as she let him in. "She orders him around like a little boy."

"Glad he follows someone's orders," the gunslinger snorted softly as he handed her his black duster to be hung up. "I'll have to find out her secret."

"There isn't one," she replied, smiling and shaking her head. "He does it because she's Rosa May – just like he follows you because you're Chris Larabee. Are the others…"

"On their way," Chris assured her. "Should be here any minute now." A knock at the door made him grin. "See?"

The other five lawmen quickly divested themselves of dusty hats and coats and were soon sitting down at Mary's now-crowded table with all the pushing and shuffling of a family of brothers. Ezra came out of the kitchen adjusting the cuffs on his fancy shirt and dropped into a chair next to JD, leaving the seat on his right open for Rosa May. "Workin' hard, Ezra?" Chris prodded, trying not to grin.

"A gentleman does not stoop to manual labor," the gambler answered automatically, not quite looking at his friend. "Ah was merely supervisin' the preparations an' providin' companionship to the ladies."

"So you was lazin' while other folks worked, just like always," Nathan observed, also automatically. He dismissed the gambler and turned his attention to JD, who was sitting more quietly than usual next to Buck. "You sure you're feelin' okay, JD? I still think you look a little poorly."

"I told you I was fine," the young sheriff answered; he wasn't about to explain the reason for his pale face and reddened eyes to any of the other men – and especially not to Nathan. "I just got some things on my mind is all."

Ezra's head snapped up, but JD wasn't looking at him; he turned concerned green eyes to Buck and received a small nod. The gambler sighed silently and shook his head. "Perhaps you just need a change of scenery, JD," he offered. "Ah was plannin' to take Orpheus out for some exercise after supper; you'd be welcome to join us on our brief exodus if you'd like."

JD smiled. "I might just take you up on that, Ezra; maybe a ride in the cool air is just what I need."

"A good dinner'll probably help too," Rosa May advised, bustling in with a large soup tureen. Ezra rose halfway out of his seat to help her and she scowled at him. "No, now you jus' sit right back down, Mr. Ezra; you've done plenty already. Miss Mary an' I done got this here meal under control." She deposited the steaming container in the center of the table and looked around at the grinning men; then her eyes fell on Nathan, who was staring at her, openmouthed. "Gonna catch a fly like that, Mr. Jackson."

"Nathan, this is Rosa May Parker," Ezra intervened smoothly. "She's here to visit for a few days."

"Miz Parker," the confused healer responded politely – but he was still staring. "Sorry, ma'am, I just didn't expect…you a friend of Mrs. Travis, then?"

Rosa May frowned slightly. "Ah am, but ah came here to visit Mr. Ezra," she stated, intercepting Mary at the kitchen door and taking a plate piled high with hot cornbread from her to place next to the soup. "We done lost touch with each other durin' the war; this here is our reunion dinner."

Nathan threw a suspicious glance at the gambler. "He ain't never told anyone about that. How come you never mentioned Miz Parker, Ez?"

"Because ah thought she was dead," Ezra explained quietly. "Ah've been certain of it for the past six years."

Rosa May settled into the seat beside him and patted his arm. "An' ah've been certain he was until two months ago. Are we ready, Miss Mary?"

Mary smiled at Chris from the head of the table. "Would you like to say grace, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris grimaced, but it was mostly for effect. After glaring at his men to ensure their compliance, he dutifully bowed his head. "Lord, we give thanks this day for that which we are about to receive…and for the family that has been reunited after too long apart. Amen."

A chorus of echoes followed and then the table erupted into controlled chaos as everyone filled their plates. Vin's face lit up after the first bite. "I ain't had cookin' like this since…" he beamed at Rosa May, "Since my mama died. Ain't had okra soup cooked right in years – folks around these parts don't know how to make it proper."

"This here is some wonderful soup," Buck agreed appreciatively. "You're a mighty fine cook, Rosa May."

"Hope you taught Mrs. Travis the recipe," Chris added, with the barest of sly glances at Mary. "I'd like to have this again sometime."

"Ah do believe our esteemed leader is fishin' for another dinner invitation," Ezra teased. The newspaperwoman blushed, and almost everyone else laughed. "For shame, Chris; you should try for more subtlety next time."

"Yeah, you should take lessons from Ez," Buck chuckled. "Let him show you how to use that smooth Southern charm of his."

"Guess that's one word for it," Nathan muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat. "Shore is good soup, Miz Parker."

"Glad you boys like it." But the sudden stiffness in Rosa May's manner said she had not thought much of the healer's first comment. Ezra laid a hand on her arm, and she made a visible effort to relax again. "Mr. Chris, Miss Mary's gonna need lots o' practice to get that soup jus' right; ah 'magine you's gonna have to be eatin' over here right regular."

This time it was Chris who blushed, and the tension at the table eased somewhat. "Now that's not fair, Rosa May," Ezra complained jokingly. "You were supposed to chastise him for leadin' a bachelor life like you've been doin' to me since you got here – his 'bachelor lodgin's' are even more lackin' in amenities than mine are."

The older woman shook an admonishing finger at him. "Mr. Ezra, that's jus' where he stays here in town; Mr. Chris's got himself a regular home out at his ranch."

Ezra snorted. "No, he has bachelor lodgin's at the ranch as well; ah've been there and seen them," he corrected. "Ah have to wonder now what other fabrications he told you durin' mah absence this mornin'."

"Told her about the unnatural relationship you have with that spoilt horse of yours," the gunslinger countered. JD choked on his soup at that one, and Buck pounded him on the back. "Reckon she was right shocked."

Ezra smiled his best winning-hand smile. "Ah suspect not," he drawled, with a wink for Rosa May. "Seein' as how she's known Orpheus since he was an untrained colt."

Buck lowered his spoon slowly, staring at the gambler. "Ain't no way that horse is that old."

"Seven goin' on eight," Ezra confirmed. "Maybe now you see why ah pamper him so; ah want Orpheus to be with me for a long time yet."

Nathan snorted dismissively. "It's just a horse, Ezra."

The gambler froze for an instant, his spoon halfway to his bowl; recovering himself, he resumed eating without looking up at the healer. "Not to me, Mr. Jackson."

Conversation faltered after that, and the men applied themselves to eating instead; just as Ezra had predicted, the simple meal ended with a delicious sweet potato pie that had the lawmen heaping compliments and entreaties to stay on Rosa May's head even after it was all gone.

Ezra leaned in close to his hostess as he and Rosa May were leaving. "It was a fine idea, Mrs. Travis," he murmured for her ear only. "Ah thank you for the attempt as well as the intention behind it."

Mary smiled at him, handing over his hat. "Pity the attempt couldn't have succeeded better."

"Ah'd say it was a rousin' success," he replied seriously. "Your objective of keepin' the peace within our little circle was admirably met – and Mr. Jackson is not holdin' any feelin's toward me that he did not already posses. So again, ah thank you; it was a lovely dinner. And thank you for makin' Rosa May feel so welcome here."

"Thank you for sharing your family with me," the newspaper woman emphasized, seeing him to the door where the older woman was waiting patiently. "Rosa May, thank you so much for all your help."

"It were a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Travis," the older woman said. "If'n ah don't see you 'fore ah leave tomorrow, jus' wanted you to know."

"The feeling is mutual." Impulsively, Mary pulled the older woman into a warm hug and whispered in her ear, "I'll do my best to look out for him."

"You send for me if'n anything happens."

"I will, I promise." They broke apart and Rosa May took Ezra's offered arm. "Have a safe trip, Rosa May."

"Thank you, Miss Mary." Brown eyes twinkled mischievously, and Rosa May raised her voice just enough to carry. "You get Mr. Chris to help you with them dishes now; he bin idle all day, it'll do him good."

Mary just laughed at that and waved goodbye from the porch before heading back inside – where, to her surprise, she found the most dangerous gunslinger in the territory rolling up his black sleeves over a basin full of dirty dishes. His look dared her to say anything about it, but she couldn't help thinking as she rolled up her own sleeves that maybe Rosa May had a secret after all.

* * *

Ezra drew out his leisurely ride with JD for as long as he could without making the young man suspicious, but eventually he gave in to the inevitable and turned them back toward home. He then took his time brushing Orpheus, sat in the saloon for a short time, and took a walk around the quiet streets of Four Corners. Finally he was too tired to think of anything else to do to stay awake and wandered up to his room. The soft, comfortable bed that usually was his haven from a long day tonight looked like a trap waiting to be sprung. And as he lay down, he shuddered; he knew what was waiting for him as soon as he dared to close his eyes…

…He had felt it, like a weight in his stomach, long before he came in sight of the quiet little neighborhood he had once called home; he hadn't needed to see the harsh wounds the fires had wrought to know that there was no home to come back to. But he came anyway, leading Michael's horse – his horse, now – and wishing that the fever had taken him as it had taken his best friend.

All the houses were gone. The once smooth lane that had wound among them, now trampled into jagged ruts by the violent passage of boots and hooves, was littered with debris and stained by ash, its ditches choked with refuse and sullen, scummy water. He kept walking. The gardens were gone, as well as the young trees he himself had helped his neighbors to plant along the lane. Here and there, where a bed of flowers or a kitchen garden had once grown, swelled bare gray mounds that sprouted crude wooden crosses instead of roses and pumpkins.

Four such growths stretched their lifeless branches above the barren ground where once he had erected a trellis to support his wife's wisteria vines. The house was a broken, blackened skeleton; but closing his eyes he could still see fresh white walls and Christina's cheery yellow curtains blowing in the upstairs windows, smell the rich fragrance of Rosa May's cooking and hear little Emily's giggle as she chased her white kitten – a gift from him – up and down the clean-swept paths. As he dropped Orpheus' reins and walked slowly toward the graves, he wondered idly what had become of the kitten.

The mound with two crosses had to be Christina's; obviously whatever compassionate souls had buried the dead had seen fit to leave the infant son he had never seen in his mother's keeping, for which Ezra was profoundly grateful. The grave on the end must therefore be Rosa May's, and Emily Rose's resting place lay between the two larger graves as though for safekeeping. He hoped whoever it was had remembered to tuck his daughter's doll in with her; his little girl just couldn't go to sleep without her doll.

He didn't know how long he stood there, but a drop of rain hitting his boot shook him out of his bleak thoughts. Another drop hit his cheek, but on reaching to wipe it away he discovered that his face was already much wetter than a single raindrop could make it and so dropped his hand again. It did not seem odd to him that the rain seemed only to be falling on himself; in fact, he found it fitting. He waited for the warm, salty rain to stop, and once it had he saluted his wife's grave with a hand that trembled only partly because of weakness, the gold band on his finger shining softly in the fitful light. "Ah'll keep mah promise, Christina; you have mah word."

And as he hauled himself back into the saddle and rode away, never to return, Ezra could have sworn he heard his wife sigh, Ah nevah doubted you, mah love…

Chris and Buck shared knowing looks with each other when they saw the gambler the next morning at breakfast; they both knew all too well the signs of a night's rest disrupted by old memories. Rosa May had obviously seen it too, and after the meal was finished she firmly took Ezra by the arm and hauled him off to her hotel room for the rest of the morning. When the two of them reappeared several hours later, some of the shadows had left the Southerner's eyes and the black woman's face reflected less concern than it had before.

The five men had all gathered to bid Rosa May goodbye, and both she and Ezra appeared genuinely touched by the attention. Even the usually standoffish tracker didn't resist the warm hug she gave him, and JD failed to complain when she ruffled a motherly hand through his long, dark hair. Into Chris' ear she whispered, "Y'all take care of him for me, y'hear?"

"We'll do our best," the gunslinger murmured in reply, and then pulled back with a smile. "You take care, Rosa May."

"Got real good reason to now," she told him. "You boys do the same. Now come on with you, Mr. Ezra; that there stage driver ain't gonna wait all day." Taking Ezra's red-jacketed arm again, she allowed him to escort her across the street to the waiting stage.

Nathan appeared just as they reached the boardwalk, and the other men couldn't help but notice the way Rosa May stiffened when the dark healer approached her, or how quickly Ezra jumped in to prevent a confrontation. Nathan was still grumbling when he passed them on his way to the clinic. "Man acts like he's afraid to let me talk to her. Bet I know what he's afraid of; 'fraid I'll open her eyes to the truth, he won't be the master no more."

Only Josiah's hand on JD's arm kept the young sheriff from exploding. "Can't make a blind man see," he rumbled quietly, nodding toward the stage; Ezra was hugging Rosa May like he couldn't bear the thought of letting her go and receiving the same emotion in return – it was an embrace he would never, ever receive from Maude. Then the older woman patted his cheek and told him something that made him smile, and he kissed her forehead before helping her into the stage. He carefully shut the door and then thumped the side to let the driver know they were ready. They could see her gloved hand waving as the stage pulled away, and then Ezra was alone, staring into the cloud of dust that remained behind.

A loud shout startled everyone. "Hey, Ezra!" It was Chris, waving his arm. "C'mon, or we ain't gonna wait for you!"

The gambler looked up in surprise, then sauntered across the street with a grin on his face. "Should I take that to mean you're buying, M…Chris?"

Larabee looked down at him and did his best to frown; his best wasn't very good at that moment. "Only the first round; you'll have to play me for the rest."

Some of the sparkle returned to Ezra's green eyes. "Ah believe ah can accommodate you, sir; indeed, ah believe Lady Luck may even be with you today."

"Been with me since the day you started ridin' with us," the gunslinger countered placidly. He slapped the smaller man on the back in comradely fashion, enjoying the uncharacteristic startled expression that his words had caused. "Don't expect nothin' to change now."

Fin

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