The Gambler’s Heart

Part Three

by Setcheti

Disclaimer: Please see disclaimer on the series index page.

---

Josiah had been 'chaperoning' Ezra's weekly visits to the church garden for more than a month, and the preacher was beginning to feel the stirring of the demon known as Impatience. He was sitting in the saloon with the other six men and studying the Southerner over the rim of his whiskey glass while the demon whispered improbable plans for hurrying things along in his ears when one of the local drifters slipped through the batwing doors and approached the table, glancing around nervously. "Think someone's breakin' into Potter's store," he whispered. "He looked big…"

The crash as Ezra's and Josiah's chairs hit the floor startled the saloon into silence, and both men rushed outside, drawing their guns as they hit the still-swinging doors and rushing down the empty street towards the dry goods store. The other five men followed close behind them.

The sound of a high-pitched voice yelling out something in a language that wasn't English broke the night's silence, and the gambler and the preacher both quickened their pace. "Ezra, that sounds like…"

Another flow of language. "Good lord, she was Cajun after all!" the gambler exclaimed. "I didn't think…"

They came in sight of the scene and both skidded to a halt, frozen. A large, unkempt man stood in the street with one dirty arm wrapped around Mrs. Potter's daughter Cecily and a gun in his hand; the little girl was too frightened even to cry. Mrs. Potter herself stood on the boardwalk pale as death with one hand clutching a wooden support and the other keeping a tight hold on her son to prevent him from leaving her side. But it was the figure poised in the center of the scene that took the men's breath away. "She walks in beauty like the night," Ezra whispered. "Of cloudless climes and starry skies, and all that's best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes…"

Josiah found he couldn't fault the younger man's poetic assessment. Juliet had obviously been readying herself for bed when the break-in occurred; her dark hair was unbound, her too-large cotton nightgown slipping off one white shoulder and her small feet bare. The full moon's silver glow had transformed her into a glorious pagan idol carved in alabaster and ebony with glowing lapis eyes, her perfect, beautiful face filled with divine fury; the gun she held clutched in both hands was the only incongruous element. "Ezra, is that what I think it is?"

The gambler nodded unhappily. "If you think it's a Colt Peacemaker, then yes, it is – probably the one Mrs. Potter was orderin' for that idiot bank manager. Good lord, it'll be a miracle if she even manages to fire it."

"It'll be a miracle if it doesn't break her arm if she does," Josiah countered. "What's she saying? It's been a long time since I been to New Orleans…"

To his surprise, Ezra grinned. "Ah'm rather glad of that at the moment; let's just say that the young lady has a rather more…colorful vocabulary than might be expected.

"Elle permettre d'aller, vous le fils dégoûtant d'un bitch! Ou je soufflerai vos balles de dieu-damned de!"

Josiah's eyes widened. "I…see what you mean – guess it hasn't been as long as I thought."

By this time the other five lawmen had ranged themselves around the scene, guns at the ready; but everyone hesitated to break into the situation as long as Cissy and Juliet were in the middle of it – and Juliet didn't even seem to be aware of their presence at all. The outlaw, however, was a different story; seeing death in the hard faces surrounding him, he decided to attack where he thought the threat was weakest. "Foreign, huh?" he laughed. "Me, I like that. Now why don't you put down that big gun, little girl, and me I'll let this kid go and take you instead." Juliet didn't move, and he shook his head. "Now, that ain't no way to be; ain't like you could fire that big ol' gun anyway – ain't like you could hit the side of a barn if'n you did." He was slowly walking forward, grinning, dragging his hostage with him; so intent was he on the small woman in front of him that he didn't see the silent exchange going on between Cissy and her brother. The sudden pain in his arm was a shock, and he had jerked the injured appendage away instinctively, flinging the little girl from him like a rag doll. Looking down and seeing the neat curve of small teeth marks, he cursed and lifted his gun…

A single shot roared out loud as thunder, and the outlaw's body dropped twitching into the street; Cissy rushed into her mother's waiting arms.

Juliet had been thrown down hard by the huge weapon's explosive kick; to the amazement of the seven lawmen she caught the gun up in her right hand and kept it trained on the fallen man while climbing shakily to her feet, her left arm held tightly against her body. She took two staggering steps forward and looked down; her hand released the gun like it was red hot and flew to her mouth instead, an expression of the most abject horror flooding her face just seconds before she collapsed in a fluttering heap of white fabric.

Ezra reached Juliet's side a heartbeat later, barely sparing a glance at the nearly headless corpse beside her as he scooped the small woman's limp body up in his arms. "Mrs. Potter, is Miss Cecily unharmed?"

The wide-eyed woman nodded, hugging her now sobbing daughter tightly. "Just frightened, I think. Is Julie…"

He stood up, his normally controlled face tight with concern. "We need to get them inside and warm," he told her, already striding toward store. "I'll see to Miss Moore."

"What do you mean, you'll see to her?" Nathan interjected, moving to head the gambler off. "You a healer now? I'll…"

"You'll get out of my way," the smaller man told him firmly, not breaking stride. "I'll send for you if she needs you, until then stay away." He disappeared into the store, closely followed by the Potters.

Josiah caught Nathan's arm before he could follow. "You heard the man, Nate," the large man rumbled. "Come help us with this other fellow."

Nathan glared at his friend in disbelief. "That fellow don't need my services, Josiah! Now I don't know what that damned Southerner's up to, but…"

"You speak Creole, Nathan?"

The amused question brought the ranting healer up short. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Josiah continued to drag him away from the store, hiding his anger behind a practiced facade of amused condescension. "Miss Julie was speaking the language of Southern Louisiana, my friend, a dialect also understood by our resident gambler and, to a lesser extent, myself. Now, seeing as how the young lady reverted to her mother tongue during this horrific experience…"

Nathan dismissed the idea. "Don't make a damn bit of difference what language she's speakin'! What the hell would a con man know about treatin' shock? I've half a mind…"

"Obviously, Brother," the preacher interrupted dryly. "If your treatment for shock involves scarin' the hell out of your patient; somehow I don't think that a large black man would be the most reassurin' sight in the world for a frightened Cajun woman to wake up to – or did you forget which side of the line Louisiana was on? And Miss Julie is skittish around you on a good day…"

"All right, all right," the healer grumbled, giving in ungracefully. "You've made your point, I'll stay out. I'm sure Mrs. Potter will send for me if anythin's wrong – I don't trust Ezra to."

At that moment, sending for Nathan was the furthest thing from Gloria Potter's mind, and her own trust in the Southern gambler was unquestioning. She had trailed Ezra through the store and into the sitting room, settling into her rocking chair with her trembling daughter while he deposited his own precious burden on the chintz-covered couch and pulled a quilt down off a shelf to tuck in around her. He laid a gentle hand against Juliet's pale cheek, brushing back a strand of black hair, and then began gently feeling along her left arm. "Nothing feels broken," he said with relief. "Her wrist is swelling a little, though; we should probably wrap it up. Are you all right, Miss Cecily?"

The little girl's eyes were wide, but she nodded. "What did Miss Julie say to that bad man?"

Ezra smiled at her reassuringly. "She told him to let you go or else, darlin'," he said quietly, paraphrasing his translation for small ears. "He very foolishly chose 'or else'." He saw the storekeeper's questioning look and filled in the blank without being asked. "She was speakin' Creole, Mrs. Potter, a dialect from the southern part of Louisiana." He was removing the silk scarf from around his neck as he spoke and began expertly wrapping Juliet's sprained wrist. "Our little lost lamb must hail from that charmin' spot as the language is not spoken elsewhere."

"Is she going to be all right?" Gloria asked softly as he finished tying off the scarf and rubbed the cold little hand gently before replacing it under the quilt. "After what happened, I mean? I saw the look on her face…"

"As did I," the gambler replied, moving down to check the bottoms of the dainty bare feet. "This sort of shock must be handled quietly and gently in order to avoid incurrin' more damage."

She cocked her head at him. "Do I hear the voice of experience, Mr. Standish?"

"Unfortunately." He quickly changed the subject. "I will be needin' some clean water and cloth to take care of these abrasions – Miss Cecily probably has some as well from bein' out in the street."

Gloria motioned for Cedric to fetch the requested items and stood up, tucking her shawl in around her daughter. "Should I make some tea, Mr. Standish?"

He shook his head and busied himself poking up the fire in the small stove. "Warmed milk with honey would be bettah. Make enough for yourself and young Mister Potter as well; it will help you sleep after all this excitement."

She smiled down at the bent head fondly, hearing the unfortunate voice of experience again and deciding not to comment on it. "I'll be back directly, then."

Ezra had just finished cleaning the small cuts on Cecily's feet when Juliet began to stir restlessly, murmuring disjointed phrases in Creole; he was immediately by her side, one hand keeping her left arm still under the quilt and the other cupping her cheek. "Il va très bien, ma chere," he said softly. "Vous êtes sûr maintenant, tout est met à l'amende. Se réveiller pour moi?"

"Qui…" Her eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on his face; a delicately confused frown crossed her features. "Mr. Standish? Mais j'étais hors de…" Returning memory widened her indigo eyes and she jerked upright against his gently restraining hand. "Que l'homme…Cissy!"

"Elle est sûre, ma cher. Voit?" He shifted slightly so she could see the still wide-eyed little girl curled up in the chair. "See, she's fine, just fine. How are you feeling?"

Juliet blinked at him, scooting back against the sofa cushions. "My arm hurts, but not too much. What happened?"

"You fainted." She looked embarrassed and he shook his head. "No need to be ashamed, cherie; you've been through a very tryin' experience. But everything is all right now."

Those large eyes stayed locked on his, reading the honest reassurance there, and she made a visible effort to relax. Then the frown came back. "Wait, we were speaking…tu parle Creole?"

He smiled gently. "Luckily I'm the only one here that does; some of the terms you applied to that gentleman weren't exactly…ladylike, even though they were perfectly accurate." A faint blush colored her pale skin and he let his smile widen mischievously. "Personally, however, I would have added mère-aime bâtard as well just to be complete."

That made her giggle, and when she couldn't stop he pulled the quilt up around her and tucked her head in against his shoulder, holding her tightly until the hysterical spasms gave way to helpless, trembling sobs. "It's all right, my dear, it's all right. Just relax and let it go, it's all right."

"I killed him, I didn't mean to. I wasn't aiming for his head, I wasn't…"

"I know, my dear, I know. The gun was too big for you, it's not your fault." Ezra stroked her tangled hair and crooned soft reassurances in her ear until he felt the tremors ease somewhat, then fished out his silk handkerchief and gave it to her. When the hand holding the damp white square dropped back into her lap he carefully sat her back against the cushions and rearranged the quilt, then took the warm cup being offered by Mrs. Potter and wrapped Juliet's fingers around it before guiding it to her lips. "Drink this, my dear, it will help you get warm again."

She sipped the warm milk and slowly began to relax. Serious dark blue eyes framed by wet lashes suddenly looked up into his concerned green ones. "Mr. Standish, am I…do you need to arrest me now? I killed that man."

"Arrest you?" Ezra couldn't conceal his shock at the idea. "Miss Moore, that bon à rien bâtard broke into the store and laid hands on Miss Cecily; I am sorely tempted to go down to the undertaker's and vent my outrage on his craven remains." He wrapped his hands around hers, still holding the cup. "Far from arrestin' you, I should be givin' you my day's wages for bringin' the miscreant down." He shook his head. "Good lord, seven lawmen standin' around useless while one brave woman in her nightgown brings down a rabid specimen of the outlaw breed – it's the stuff dime novels are written of, cherie! I can see it now, The Heroine of Four Corners by Jock Steele…"

Juliet flushed rose and Cecily and Cedric were giggling helplessly as Ezra continued to expound on the contents of the imaginary novel. Mrs. Potter smiled, looking over the gambler's shoulder to the two men who stood in the doorway with expressions of utter amazement on their faces. The tall man in black slowly echoed her smile and held a finger to his lips, then firmly led the astonished young sheriff back toward the front door.

Once they were back outside, Chris headed for the jail with JD in tow. "I want you to go through the wanted posters, pick out anyone who could be a match – no way this fella wasn't wanted somewhere. I'll send Josiah down to help you, him and Ez were closest." The young sheriff frowned, and Larabee shook his head. "Not tonight, JD; you can ask Ezra when he's finished at the Potters', but I already know what he'll say. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough for Cissy and Miss Julie to have a look."

JD was still frowning. "Should be, but…I don't know, Chris; doesn't make sense to me that a guy like that would be workin' alone."

Larabee looked at the younger man with fresh respect, and a slight smile softened his hard features. "Good thinkin'," he said. "Vin mentioned last week that he thought we might have a pack of outlaws passin' through the area; it's been awful quiet lately, but maybe that's because they're still hangin' around."

"Don't like the sound of that," JD commented, pulling stacks of posters out of the desk. "You think we should double up on patrol?"

"Not yet; we'll have everyone keep a sharp eye out, though." Chris left JD to his task and headed back to the saloon, stopping off at the undertaker's to send Josiah down to the jail and asking the older man to come find him when he was finished. Exiting the undertaker's, Chris gave the dry goods store a long, considering look before continuing on his way.

It was several hours later when Josiah came back to the saloon, and Larabee kicked out a chair for him. "No luck?"

Josiah dropped into the chair with a discouraged sigh. "You ever notice that the outlaw breed all look a certain amount alike, Brother?"

The gunslinger snorted but didn't deny it. "How many possibles, then?"

"At least twenty or so." Snagging the bottle that sat in front of Chris, the preacher took a healthy swig. "Caught Ezra comin' out of the Potters', he went down to the jail to have a look for himself – says he'll show 'em to Miss Julie tomorrow morning."

"Expected that," Chris said with a small, wry smirk. He cocked an eyebrow at Josiah. "Mind tellin' me how long you've known?"

Josiah shrugged. "Not really too sure how it happened myself; I must admit I didn't think of my boy when I was considerin' potential suitors for the young lady, but apparently Mother Nature knew better than I did. He's become a regular fixture at the church on Sunday afternoons, helping out and then walking her home – started after she caught him out there on his own one day, digging up rocks in the garden." Larabee's eyebrows went up in disbelief and the preacher chuckled. "It was a sight to behold, that it was."

"Wish I would've seen that," Chris said, relaxing into a grin. "Anyone else sparkin' her?"

"Nope. And I'll warn off anyone that tries."

"Good." Larabee smiled into his whiskey. "So I guess now we're just waiting for Nature to take it's course?"

Josiah's blue eyes twinkled. "Or for the opportunity to help it along – although from the look on his face tonight when he saw her standin' there in the street, Nature might not require much help."

The rest of the night passed without incident, but the next morning Chris rose at dawn and took the day's first patrol with Vin to see if they could spot any sign of outlaw activity in the low hills outside of town. The two lawmen were thorough in their search, and it was nearing ten o'clock when they rode back into town with the disquieting discovery that a band of six individuals had apparently been watching the town and had only left the area the night before. "Don't like it, Chris," Vin observed grimly while the two men saw to their horses in the livery. "That hombre from last night weren't just some random thief; looks like they sent him in for somethin' and then watched to see if he pulled it off, rode away cool as you please when he didn't."

"Yeah, but what did they send him in for?" Larabee mused, patting Blackie's neck absently. "Why Potter's store, why not the bank? It doesn't make sense." He sighed and shook his head. "Maybe we'll be able to figure it out once Miss Julie tells us who he was."

"If he's on one of them posters," Vin reminded him, ducking out of the stall and brushing himself off. "I mean, we know it must be a new gang 'cause all the old ones steer clear of our territory now; hell, no outlaw in his right mind just waltzes into Four Corners after what happened to the last few that tried it – we got ourselves quite a reputation as a bad place to be these days."

"That makes it even worse," Chris said with a grimace. "Means this new bunch may be targeting us and not the town. I sure as hell hope that bastard from last night was wanted, give us something to start with, at least."

The two men exited the livery and headed toward the hotel for a late breakfast, both deep in thought over the incident from the night before and the possible meanings of the sign they'd seen that morning; crossing the street they almost ran into Ezra stalking toward the hotel with the wanted posters selected the night before rolled up and clenched in one fist. Larabee raised an eyebrow at the agitated man. "You don't look happy, Ez; what's goin' on?"

Ezra scowled. "Take a deep breath, gentlemen."

They did, looking at each other with puzzlement. "I smell breakfast," Vin observed unnecessarily.

"Exactly," the gambler snarled. "Last night that woman interrupted a robbery and possibly a kidnapping, held an armed outlaw a bay, ended by shootin' said outlaw with a weapon much too powerful for her use and injurin' herself in the process…and she is at this moment ensconced in that damnable kitchen," he shook the roll of papers at the hotel, "cookin' breakfast! Mrs. Potter said Juliet was up and dressed this mornin' before she could stop her, absolutely insisted on goin' to work."

"Who insisted on goin' to work?" Josiah wanted to know; then he, too, sniffed the air and scowled. "She isn't…"

"She is," Ezra confirmed. "And ah am guessin' that she hasn't even told Mrs. Abbott about last night's goin's on."

"Most likely not, son," the preacher agreed. "Mrs. Abbott would have sent her right back home. You think she's tryin' to keep busy, not think about it?"

Sympathy softened the gambler's expression slightly. "Undoubtedly – and ah'm not your son." He sighed. "Well, last night's unlamented villain is not gettin' identified by us standin' around in the street. Shall we, gentlemen?"

The four men entered the hotel and were met by a wide-eyed Mrs. Abbott in the dining room. "Mr. Larabee, is it true? Did someone try to rob the dry goods store last night?"

The men looked at each other. "Did Miss Julie tell you?" Chris wanted to know.

The woman's eyes widened even more, and she shook her head. "Pete Collins told me this morning when he brought in the wood; Julie hasn't said two words to anyone all…" She gasped suddenly, one hand going to her heart. "Oh dear, is that how she hurt her arm? Did it happen during the robbery?"

"Mr. Larabee!" Mary blew into the room and zeroed in on the man in black. "I was hoping I'd catch you here! I just came from talking to Mrs. Potter, and she said that last night some outlaw tried to…"

"Yes," Chris interrupted, talking to both women. He raised his hand to forestall any more questions. "Yes, last night someone tried to rob the dry goods store and yes, he was stopped."

"By Julie," Mary added, tight-lipped, her sharp eyes on the three lawmen. "Mrs. Potter said she saved Cissy and got hurt in the process."

"She did." Ezra confirmed quietly. "It was the weapon's recoil; she wasn't big enough to control the gun, and it actually knocked her down when she fired it." He looked toward the kitchen and his jaw tightened. "And then she got up this mornin' and decided to come to work like nothin' had happened!"

Both Mary and Mrs. Abbott shared a surprised look at the gambler's uncharacteristic outburst, and Josiah hid a smile. Chris just shook his head. "Mrs. Abbott, we need to have Miss Julie look over these wanted posters – gotta get that hombre from last night identified before we plant him."

She looked confused. "But why can't you…" The looks on the lawmen's faces made her suck in a sharp breath, a gasp echoed by Mary as realization dawned. "Oh my goodness."

"Miss Julie is the only one who got a good look at his face," Josiah explained softly.

Mrs. Abbott gathered herself back together. "You can use the sitting room upstairs," she said briskly. "I'll just go make sure it's clear while you fetch Julie out of the kitchen."

Ezra immediately handed the roll of wanted posters to Vin and stalked off toward the kitchen; Chris jerked his head at Josiah and the older man hurried after the gambler. The gunslinger turned back from watching them to be met with Mary's demanding gaze. He swallowed a sigh and offered his arm. "Mrs. Travis."

She smiled. "Why thank you, Mr. Larabee. Now, why don't you tell me exactly what went on last night – I wouldn't want to print anything in the paper that might be considered…less than factual."

Larabee's cool turquoise eyes warmed; he held out his hand for the wanted posters. "You go on with your breakfast, Vin; I'll take it from here."

The tracker grinned wickedly, passing over the rolled papers. "Reckon you will," he commented, and tipped his battered hat to Mary. "Ma'am."

"Mr. Tanner," she replied, and then headed up the stairs with Chris. Vin just shook his head and went into the dining room.

Ezra entered the kitchen after only the most perfunctory of knocks, but Josiah noticed that he was careful to announce his presence almost immediately. "Miss Moore?"

The young woman started noticeably but continued her work at the stove. "Mr. Standish…Mr. Sanchez! Do we have prisoners to feed over at the jail? How many? I'll get something ready directly…"

"No, Little Sister, no prisoners today," Josiah assured her. "We needed to talk to you about last night."

"And perhaps about your whereabouts this mornin'," Ezra added, frowning. "What, may ah ask, are you doin' here?"

She matched his frown but didn't look up. "Working," came the crisp answer. "This is my job, Mr. Standish; the world isn't going to stop for me just because I k-killed a man last night."

Josiah flinched; he was hearing quotes again, and he wondered if they came from the same source as the last set. Ezra noticed his reaction and gave him a look that said explanations would be demanded later, then turned his full attention back to Juliet. "That may be true, Miss Moore," he said firmly. "But that does not mean you haven't the right to let the world take care of itself until you regain your equilibrium – or at the very least, the full use of your arm."

Juliet's chin lifted and her lips set in a stubborn line. "Ah am not left-handed, Mr. Standish, therefore mah ability to work has not been impaired. And it would certainly not be acceptable for me to abandon mah responsibilities to Mrs. Abbott just because of a few sore muscles."

"A few sore…Miss Moore, ah should hardly liken a wrenched shoulder and a sprained wrist to somethin' as trivial as muscle soreness!" Ezra folded his arms across his chest and matched her expression with one equally determined. "And as to the proprietress of this establishment…"

"Oh!" Juliet's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no, you didn't tell her!"

"Someone else told her," Josiah soothed, moving closer to the young woman. "And she'd already noticed that you were hurt. I believe the question is, why didn't you tell her, Little Sister?"

Juliet shook her head. "I didn't want her to know what ah…about what ah…" She swallowed convulsively, the flush giving way to a sickly pallor again. "It was so much like when he…when ah…ah just didn't want to remember. And this time it was me that did…that."

The preacher put two and two together and got an answer that made him kick himself. Father Thomas, he thought unhappily. But now isn't the time. Later, he promised her silently. Later, we'll talk about it. Aloud he said gravely, "I understand; bad memories are the hardest to forget, aren't they, Little Sister?" She nodded, and he smiled gently at her. "We came to get you so you could look at some wanted posters, try to help us figure out who the robber was. Will the kitchen be all right without you for a little while?"

The distraction was obviously welcome and she looked around quickly, biting her lip in thought. "Ah could…" She began moving her cooking farther away from the hottest part of the stove, covering some and uncovering others. The oven was checked and a pan of biscuits pulled out and set on the worktable to cool. After a final critical look, the young woman pulled off her apron and hung it neatly on a nail beside the back door. "All right, things should be fine for a little while now. Are we goin' to the jail?"

"Upstairs to the sitting room," Ezra corrected, recovering himself; he would sort through his own surprising gamut of emotions later – and find out what it was Josiah knew that he didn't. He offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Juliet looked at his sleeve and then at her hands; she scrubbed her right hand against her skirt before taking the offered arm. "Thank you, Mr. Standish." She blushed again. "Please forgive me for being rude."

He smiled down at her, covering her hand with his. "Only if you forgive me for being presumptuous, cherie – it is not mah place to chastise you ovah your handlin' of last night's crisis. Now, let us go get this unpleasantness over with; ah'm afraid bein' in here around your cookin' has made me desirous of havin' an ungentlemanly large late breakfast, somethin' ah cannot accomplish satisfactorily without you in the kitchen."

Josiah walked behind them up the stairs, hiding a very smug smile.

The fifth wanted poster turned out to be the correct one, and the faceless corpse at the undertaker's became Ronald Dodd, wanted in Tucson for kidnapping and murder. Juliet had paled even further when she saw the charges under the picture. "Ah…ah don't think we should tell anyone else about this part."

There was a murmur of agreement, and Mary nodded. "No we shouldn't; Mrs. Potter and the children were frightened enough." She gave the younger woman a stern look. "But I believe it's time for you to tell us exactly what happened last night."

Juliet flinched, and Josiah quickly moved to her side, going down on one knee beside her and catching her hands in his. "Little Sister," he said quietly. "We need to know; there might be more of them out there, and anything you recall could be of value."

Ezra leaned casually over the back of the couch, breaking off the reproving look he'd been giving Mary to smile reassuringly at Juliet. "You were gettin' ready for bed," he prompted gently. "What made you go downstairs?"

"A noise," she answered. "I'd heard Cissy go downstairs after a drink, and I was listening for her to come back up when I heard something that sounded…odd, so I went down to see what was going on." She took a deep breath. "I went into the kitchen first and she wasn't there, but then I heard her up front in the store and I heard her start to scream and then stop, so I ran…he was so big, and he had his hand over her mouth and he was laughing and telling her that she'd just have to be a quiet little girl because he wasn't leaving town without getting something out of the trip for himself." The three lawmen looked at each other in alarm, but Juliet didn't notice. "I remembered that Mrs. Potter had put Mr. Guffey's new gun up on a shelf behind the counter, so I grabbed it and pointed it at him and told him to let Cissy go." She shook her head. "He just kept backing up and I kept following him and I knew I had to keep pointing the gun at him or he'd get away and take Cissy with him, and he wouldn't listen to anything I said…"

"Um, ah believe that was the language barrier manifestin' itself, darlin'," Ezra observed. "He couldn't understand you; only Mr. Sanchez and myself could."

Juliet turned bright red, shooting a mortified look at Josiah; the preacher laughed and squeezed her hands. "That's what confession is for, Little Sister; I admit that I found your…observations of the man's character to be spot-on, but you should probably drop by the church on Saturday with your beads all the same."

The grateful look he didn't think he'd ever get used to made an appearance then, and Josiah heard Ezra catch his breath in surprise; it was all the preacher could do not to smirk. I may be hopin' to marry her to you, son, but so far that look is just for me; the day she looks at you that way, then I'll know she's yours. Aloud he continued, "Do you remember anything else, anything at all?"

Juliet started to shake her head and then stopped, dropping her eyes; the small shudder that ran through her body was clearly visible. "He…the way he looked at me, it was like he knew me."

A spark flared in Chris's eyes, but he kept his voice level. "Did you know him, Miss Julie?"

"No." Her indigo eyes were wide and troubled. "Ah would have remembered someone like that, ah'm certain of it."

"I dare say!" Mrs. Abbott snorted, frowning at the lawmen and Mary. "Like Julie would know an outlaw like that, Mr. Larabee!"

"No, Mrs. Abbott, it's all right," Juliet broke in, looking even more troubled. "A person may meet many types of individuals in their lifetime; and as a lawman, he was duty-bound to ask me."

"As a lawman, he knows exactly why that outlaw was looking at you like that," the older woman maintained. "And the fact that you didn't just proves my point. Now, gentlemen, if that's all then Julie and I have to get back down to the kitchen to finish the breakfast – and then I'm sending her home. If you need anything further, you'll have to go through Mrs. Potter." Juliet's mouth dropped open, but at a look from Mrs. Abbott she closed it again and nodded meekly, rising from the couch and following her to the stairs. The others just stared after them, stunned, and heard a further scold delivered. "And before you go, I'm having a look at that arm, young lady…"

Ezra cleared his throat, trying not to laugh. "Chris, ah believe the monetary recompense for Mr. Dodd's successful demise is set at no less than three hundred dollars – a reward which by right belongs to Miss Moore, although ah do not believe the lady is aware of that fact. With your permission, after breakfast ah shall set about observin' the necessary formalities required to obtain it for her."

Larabee handed over the wanted poster with a shrug, his own expression carefully neutral. "Suit yourself – but have JD send the telegram, make it official."

Ezra saluted with a grin and tipped his hat to Mary before hurrying off, clattering down the stairs with more haste than dignity. Mary raised a questioning eyebrow at the man in black. "Chris? Is that about what I think it is?"

Chris shrugged again. "I just caught on myself after last night; Josiah's the one that knew." He smiled slightly at the older man. "He's been playin' matchmaker, it seems, and then a certain Southerner wandered into it and messed up his plans right proper."

"I wouldn't say that," the preacher demurred with a smile of his own. "I just didn't expect him to be the one, is all." He shifted his feet. "Um, Miz Travis, I find I need to have a word with Chris for a moment; will you excuse us?"

Mary nodded and left after a bare moment's hesitation; Chris locked eyes with Josiah and didn't like what he saw there. "What is it?"

In response, Josiah handed him a letter; the gunslinger took it, read it…and swore. "You just got this this morning?"

"Yep," the preacher said heavily. "I was on my way to tell you about it when we met up outside the hotel. Apparently the Baxter sisters escaped the confines of the mission about a month ago."

"Dammit." Chris scanned the letter one more time and then handed it back to Josiah. "So their last name was Baxter, huh?"

"So they said." Josiah's shrug said he didn't know whether to believe it or not. "Don't see that it matters much if it's not – at least the Sisters got that much out of 'em, which is more that we were able to do. I'm wonderin', though, if maybe they're part of the problem that's been hangin' around outside of town; Mother Esther says that they were always makin' reference to something they needed to 'finish', but she never could find out what it was."

"Couldn't be anything good," the gunslinger mused unhappily. Shaking his head, he slapped the larger man on the arm. "Come on, let's go run this past Ezra and Vin – maybe we can get some breakfast at the same time." He stopped halfway through the door and frowned. "How'd it go downstairs, anyway?"

Josiah smiled. "That is one tough little woman, Chris," he said admiringly. "I think she only fainted last night because the manner of Ronald Dobbs' demise brought back some bad memories – may have been the ones that drove her West, at that. Ezra went to light into her for comin' to work, and she told him that 'the world wouldn't stop for her' just because she killed a man last night."

Larabee's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "God damn," he whistled softly. "I sure wouldn't have expected that."

"Neither did my boy," the older man observed, chuckling. "Should've seen his expression, Chris; Miss Julie sure does give his poker face a run for its money."

Chris just snorted. "About damned time, if you ask me – and I don't think Ez has realized it yet, either, or he'd be avoidin' her like the plague. Hope you know what you're doin', Preacher, tryin' to help Mother Nature out."

"Ain't been too successful so far," Josiah admitted, but he was still grinning. "But then, maybe I ain't had proper opportunity."

Josiah's next opportunity to give Mother Nature a helping hand came more quickly than expected when the town decided to hold a dance in honor of May Day, and he found himself more than a little upset when the young man he thought of as a son volunteered for patrol duty that night so that 'troublemakers wouldn't spoil the festivities.' Josiah stationed himself as doorwarden at the meeting hall and watched the moon rise unhappily, wondering why God was letting him down yet again; Juliet hadn't come to the dance either.

He was thinking longingly of a bottle of the wrong spirits to drown his disappointment when movement in the street caught his eye; a small figure in brown approaching hesitantly, appearing drawn by the music but unwilling to come any closer. The preacher felt a tingle go up his spine; something was going to happen, he just knew it.

A second figure joined the first, a man wearing a brilliant red jacket. He came up behind the young woman and apparently startled her; a solicitous hand shot out to ensure that she maintained her balance. Josiah retreated back into the shadows and listened hard while praying harder.

"Miss Moore, whyevah aren't you inside enjoyin' this little fais do-do? Isn't the music to your liking?"

"It is, very much so." She looked away, embarrassed. "But I can't…I thought I'd come out here and listen, it's such a lovely night."

"That it is, but it appeahs to me that your education has been sadly lackin'," the Southerner said kindly, correctly divining the problem. "It is unforgivable that no one has evah taught so graceful a lady how to dance." She blushed rather obviously at the compliment and he chuckled. His gaze wandered to the quiet, empty street and a frown crossed his face as one duty warred with another; chivalry won out. He removed his hat and offered her his hand. "If I might be so bold as to offer my services…?"

Josiah almost cheered when Juliet turned a shy, wondering look up to the gallant man before her and, with a nod, placed her small hand in his. Ezra swept her into the cheerful rhythm of the music with a pleased smile.

Footsteps approaching behind him told Josiah that it was time to take full advantage of his position. He turned away from the door and headed the tall cowboy off. "Leavin' so soon?"

"Not for long, jest got to use the…" Over the older man's shoulder, Buck caught a glimpse of the dancing couple outside. The ladies' man grinned widely, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Well lookee there," he chuckled. "If that ain't just the sweetest thing I've laid eyes on all night. I think I'd better go cut in…"

Buck was surprised when a large hand firmly clamped down on his shoulder and kept him from going any farther. "I think it best that you stay inside for now, Brother Buck."

The ladies' man jerked out from under the offending hand with an annoyed frown, alcohol and the brushoff he 'd just gotten from one of the young ladies shortening his fuse. "And why the hell should I? It's a free country. Do him good to have a little competition, keep him sharp for next time."

Josiah gave Buck a look he'd never seen before, disappointment mingled with disgust. "You ain't the first person to say that about Ezra," he reminded the younger man, and was rewarded with a guilty flinch; the memory of Maude's all too efficient destruction of her son's saloon was still a sore spot, thank god. Then he sighed. "I've never preached to you regarding your lifestyle, Brother, but your current attitude smacks of the wealthy man stealing the poor man's lamb, and I'm goin' to insist that you feast on your own flock tonight." The strong hand was suddenly back on his shoulder, its grip now offering reassurance instead of restraint. "You're a good man, Buck, but we all have our weaknesses and I ain't gonna let you do something you'll regret later. Why don't you go have a dance with Miss Inez?"

Buck's head came up at the emphasis on the bar manager's name. "I never asked him to back off Inez," he snapped defensively.

"No, but he did," Josiah chided gently. "And now you're returning the favor. While you're at it, you might ask them to play something slower. A waltz might be nice."

Buck's grin came back. "Good idea, Preacher; my lovely senorita will think I did it just for her."

"No one says you ain't." Josiah shook his head as the man romped off to find Inez and turned his attention back to the moonlit scene outside with a relieved sigh. Looks like I've done my part; now lets see if Nature takes its course…

Juliet swept back into a gracefully sweeping curtsey as the reel ended, looking up hopefully for her instructor's approval. Ezra finished off his own equally graceful bow and nodded, extending his hand to her. "Beautiful," he complimented. "Terpsichore herself would be proud of you, my dear."

Her eyes sparkled as she took the offered hand and allowed herself to be drawn back into position. "Are you then my Apollo, Mr. Standish?"

His green eyes lit up with pleasure; he wasn't used to his literary references being understood, much less responded to in kind. "This is hardly Olympus," he chuckled. "Not a marble pillah in sight." The first strains of the next dance floated out to them on the gentle evening breeze, and he automatically pulled her closer and captured her other hand before freezing in place as the familiar notes coupled with the feminine warmth in his arms woke a dark and unpleasant memory.

Juliet had frozen, too, but with dismay. "Oh dear, this sounds like a waltz. Ah don't know if ah can..." Her wide indigo eyes became even wider with concern when she looked up and saw his face. "Mr. Standish, is somethin' the mattah?"

He just stared at her, for an instant seeing a different partner; an amber-eyed golden Valkyrie instead of a diminutive moon-kissed Artemis. Then he shook himself, pushing aside the line of fire that ran from his left ring finger to his heart and tightening his grip on the small hands that were politely extricating themselves from his own suddenly cold fingers. "Nothin' at all," he smiled reassuringly. "Merely rememberin' the last time ah waltzed; it was a long time ago. Now, this one will be easier still for you to learn; you need only let me guide your steps so." He led her without hesitation into the first available measure, at the same time relocating her left hand to his shoulder and dropping his right to her slender waist. Within moments she had relaxed into the pattern, gliding along with him effortlessly over the hard-packed earth, and he allowed himself to be carried away by it as well.

When the waltz ended – far too soon – Ezra looked down at the woman in his arms as though waking from a dream. It had been years, years since he had allowed himself to indulge in what had once been one of his greatest and most frequently sought-out pleasures, and he suddenly realized that he had been mourning the loss of the dance itself almost as much as the loss of the cherished partner he had so often shared it with.

He stepped back to bow, matching Juliet's curtsey perfectly once again, and took a deep breath. "That was lovely, Miss Moore."

"Exhilarating, Mr. Standish," she agreed breathlessly. "Oh my, that was wonderful! Ah didn't know dancing could be like that – thank you evah so much!"

"It was mah pleasure," he replied, surprising himself with how much he meant it. "Ah regret to say that ah really must go back on duty now, but…might ah have the honor of escortin' you home?"

She took his arm with a sweet, shy smile. "Ah would appreciate that, Mr. Standish."

And there it was, that special look, shining up at Ezra out of those innocently lovely indigo eyes. The gambler melted, and Josiah smiled broadly and abandoned his post in the shadowed doorway; he'd offer up apologies for his doubt later and think up a suitable penance – preferably one that involved looking after precocious green-eyed, black-haired children while their parents waltzed in the moonlight.

End of Part 3 / On to Part 4

Back to the Gambler's Heart Series Index Page (Disclaimer and Acknowledgments posted here)