The Gambler’s Heart

Part Four

by Setcheti

Disclaimer: Please see disclaimer on the series index page.

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Artemus Gordon wandered into the parlor of the railcar he called home and dropped absentmindedly into his favorite chair, shuffling a large bundle of mail through his hands. His partner, James West, glanced up from his own mail from where he lay sprawled on a comfortably worn chaise lounge. "It's hell being out of the country, huh?"

"Only on my correspondence." Gordon flashed the younger man a quick smile. "I thought you enjoyed our travels, James?"

"In the railcar, I do. When I have my own horse, I do. When it involves an extended stay in a tent in a very wet jungle, however…" He snorted and threw the missive he was holding on the floor before slicing open the next. "Had enough of that in the war."

Artemus kept his outward expression carefully neutral, but inwardly he flinched. Damn, I should have thought of that months ago, he chastised himself. Aloud he said casually, "Ah yes, Florida; my apologies. So I take it returning to our former campsite for our next vacation is out of the question?"

That earned him a wry smirk and a contemptuous snort. "Hell yes."

A half hour later and slightly more than halfway through his mail, Gordon found himself holding a coarse-grained beige envelope addressed in an unfamiliar female hand. "James, do we know anyone in a municipality called Four Corners?"

"Four Corners?" West roused himself from a very comfortable semi-sleeping state and frowned at the ceiling. "Not that I recall. Isn't that the town in Arizona that hired a bunch of gunslingers to keep the peace?"

"I believe so – but it's New Mexico, not Arizona." Artemus carefully slit open the envelope and extracted the two folded sheets inside; a shiny rectangle just slightly larger than a visiting card dropped into his lap and he retrieved it absently as he unfolded the letter and started to read. West saw one of his partner's eyebrows go up. "Well well, this is interesting. James, do you remember our friend Miguelito's little foray into the world of art?"

"How could I forget?" West countered, pushing himself up on one elbow. "I spent the better part of two days trapped in his little 'alternate world' – I almost died there! Don't tell me he's…"

"No, nothing like that," Gordon reassured him. He peered closely at the card in his hand and shook his head before tossing it to his partner. "There are certain similarities to this situation, though – both involve practical application of the scientific theory of alternate universes."

West took a good look at the card. It was coated in a light, semi-flexible substance that was clear as glass. He ran his finger over the slightly raised area that contained the photograph of a dark-haired young woman and then across the tiny, precise lines of type beside it.

Juliet Marie Moore
892 Sycamore Dr Apt 410
Denver, CO 80908

DOB 06/14/1978

He flipped the card over and read a signed statement of intent which frankly alarmed him, then went back to the front and read the last line again. "Artie, does this mean what I think it does?"

"According to her letter, Miss Moore was born in the year nineteen hundred and seventy-eight," Gordon confirmed. "I believe the acronym stands for 'date of birth'."

"Time travel?"

"No, an alternate universe." He waved the letter. "Miss Moore claims to have been transported against her will – I gather rather abruptly – into our world from one which exists in relative parallel to it. She does not know what method may have brought her here, but she believes that the two young women who arrived with her would know more. She is certain that they are up to no good and believes that you and I might be able to stop them before they can follow through on whatever plans they have."

West took the letter and skimmed through it, frowning. "So she knows of us from her own world and wants our help?" he mused, thoughtful but not surprised. "Do you think Loveless could be involved? Or this could be a trap, some sort of hoax?"

"That doesn't look like a hoax," Artemus said, gesturing to the card. "I'll do some tests to make sure, but I'd say that it's genuine. As to Loveless…it's possible."

"With him it always is," West observed dourly. "You know Artie, considering that Miss Moore claims to have been kidnapped, this letter certainly doesn't sound like she's looking to go home: If you would, Mr. Gordon, I would appreciate it if you introduced yourself as my Uncle in the event that you see your way clear to come here. I live in a small community now and must be mindful of my reputation. Sounds to me like she expects to stay put."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it," Gordon said thoughtfully. "Of course, that could be because she doesn't believe she can go home, but we also don't know what her own world was like. Ours may be the more desirable residence."

"Well, I guess the best way to find out is to ask the lady herself," West grunted, standing up and handing the letter and card back to his partner. "We should wire the sheriff at Four Corners to make sure she's still there – that letter is several months old, she might have given up on us. And I'll send word to Washington so they'll know what we're up to."

"I wouldn't tell them too much just yet," Gordon cautioned, pushing himself to his feet. "Miss Moore apparently trusts me, whatever the reason, and I don't want to betray that unnecessarily. I'll go get those tests started." Going into the laboratory, he sat on a convenient stool and studied the photograph intently for a moment before reaching for his notebook. "I certainly hope we're not too late, Juliet; Uncle Artemus can't wait to meet you."

Four Corners had been a little more lively since the night of the dance; more people could be seen out and about during the day or coming into town on one pretext or another. And in the early part of the warm, breezy evenings, it became not at all unusual to see hesitant young men, fresh from the bathhouse or a kitchen washtub, walking along the dusty streets with a few spring flowers in hand to meet an equally scrubbed and shy young woman with whom they would walk along the weathered boardwalk or sit in a dustless, well-lit parlor. As Buck observed rather resignedly, it was mating season.

In spite of the prevailing atmosphere of romance, when Gloria Potter answered her door that Monday evening it was all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping open in shock at the sight of the red-coated Southern gambler standing on her porch with a ribbon-bound bouquet of wildflowers in his hand and a hesitant expression on his handsome face. "Mr. Standish?"

He cleared his throat nervously. "Sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Potter, but…if ah could prevail upon you to give these to Miss Moore? We were discussin' a mutual fondness for flowers yesterday, and when ah happened upon these…well, ah thought she might like them. Would you…"

Gloria gently took the flowers from his ever-so-slightly shaking hand, doing her very best not to smile too brightly. "Of course I'll give them to Julie, Mr. Standish," she said pleasantly. "It was very thoughtful of you to gather them for her." She happened to know that some of the blossoms grew no closer than halfway to Eagle Bend, none of them all in the same spot – and the shiny indigo-blue ribbon hadn't come from her stock. "Or would you like to give them to her yourself?"

She could have sworn that the normally unflappable gambler was blushing. "Um, no; ah would not presume to impose. And ah have to go…"

"Of course." Gloria decided to let him off the hook; the poor man was obviously beside himself with nerves. "And thank you again for being so kind to Julie; these lovely blossoms are certain to make her smile."

His own sudden unguarded smile surprised her all over again. "Ah hope so," he said softly. He tipped his hat to her and vanished into the evening shadows.

The next morning the gambler very obviously had something on his mind. "Brother Ezra?" Josiah asked. "Son, is something the matter?"

What if she didn't like them? What if she doesn't like me? Did I overplay my hand? Ezra was doing his best to look everywhere but toward the kitchen. He vaguely heard the older man's question. "Nothing a'tall," he replied distractedly. If she would just come out here, if I could just see her…

Now the preacher knew something was wrong; the gambler never failed to correct what he called Josiah's 'paternal delusions'. His worries were interrupted by Vin's appearance at the table. "Mornin' Josiah, Ezra."

"Mornin', Vin," Josiah answered. Ezra nodded, sparing the tracker a glance before resuming his nervous survey of the room. "Anything going on?"

"Nope, purty quiet." Vin jerked his head toward the oblivious Southerner and raised a questioning eyebrow; Josiah shrugged. "Breakfast smells mighty fine this mornin'. That Miss Julie sure can cook."

"Indubitably," Ezra agreed softly, a small smile playing across his face. "The lady is a godsend to this uncivilized backwater." He missed the sudden look of understanding that passed between his two friends.

The tracker started to grin; he winked at Josiah. "Shore is," he said seriously. "Right pretty little thing, too."

"Beautiful beyond compare."

"And she's got those fine Southern manners," Josiah added, fighting to keep a straight face. "Miss Julie, she's a lady."

"Every inch," the smitten gambler sighed. "She is perfection." Sudden laughter from the other two pulled him back to reality and he blushed. "Ah mean to say…that is…"

"We know what you mean," Vin assured him with a wide grin. "Good Lord, Ezra, you've got it bad!"

"Mistah Tannah!"

Josiah patted his hand, chuckling. "Ain't nothing to be embarrassed about, son."

Ezra looked down at the table, pulling his hand away. "Unless the lady in question doesn't feel the same," he said softly.

The laughter stopped abruptly, replaced with a brief, concerned silence. Josiah finally cleared his throat. "Have you talked to her?"

A small shake of the brown head. "Not as yet. I gave her – through Mrs. Potter – a small token of my affections last evening, but I have yet to see…" Just then, the waitress bustled over with their breakfast. He stared at the single plate laid before him for a full minute before the discrepancy registered. "Excuse me, this isn't…"

The woman stopped and looked at him, frowning. "Are you sure? Julie said that that one was for you, but she's been a mite distracted this morning. If it's wrong I can…"

"Miss Moore said…" Ezra looked at the plate again, the significance of it's contents suddenly registering. "Yes, yes of course," he conceded happily. "This one is mine; forgive my error and," he looked up, eyes dancing, "thank Miss Moore for remembering."

She looked at him oddly but nodded before hurrying back to the kitchen. Josiah shook his head and reached for his coffee. "Brother Vin, I don't believe I saw sweet potato pie on the menu this morning."

"I believe you're right," Vin agreed, digging into his eggs. "Wonder what a body has to do to get some of that there pie?"

"Apparently something right," the preacher chuckled. "Feelin' better now, son?"

Ezra smiled rapturously, savoring every bite of Juliet's response to his first advance while joyfully plotting his second one. "I'm not your son, Josiah."

Wednesday morning dawned bright and clear, and Ezra was already in the livery when Juliet came in with Josiah. "Ezra?" the preacher said, more than a little surprised. "What has you up with the sun today, son?"

The gambler smiled brightly. "Why Mr. Sanchez, knowin' that you are expected in the village this mornin', I thought I might offer a ride to Miss Moore; I seem to recall you mentionin' yesterday that your trusty steed was not feelin' quite like himself."

Josiah held back a smile; the incident in question involved him calling Pharisee a cantankerous old crowbait after the horse tried to bite him while he was unsaddling it. Juliet looked worried. "That is very kind of you, Mr. Standish, but will your horse be all right carrying double on such a long ride?"

Ezra's eyes twinkled. "Your concern is appreciated, cherie, but unnecessary; Orpheus can easily bear us both – you may ask him yourself, if you like." He whistled once and the animal in question let himself out of his stall and came to stand by his owner like a well-trained dog. "Orpheus, would you have a problem carryin' an extra passenger on a short excursion this mornin'?" The horse snorted and shook his head. "So it would be acceptable to you to carry Miss Moore out to the village?" Orpheus nodded vigorously and the gambler grinned. "See? It's fine with him."

Juliet smiled delightedly, and Josiah shook his head; after two years of riding with Ezra, he still couldn't identify the commands that made his horse perform. "Much obliged to the both of you then," he told the younger man dryly, trying not to laugh.

He carefully stowed Juliet's books and other supplies in his saddlebags, watching out of the corner of his eye while the younger man helped her to mount; he saw Juliet's small white hand linger briefly in Ezra's slender gloved fingers, indigo eyes meeting emerald with a smile much warmer than courtesy required. The gambler swung up behind her with graceful ease and tipped his hat to Josiah with a dimpled grin. "Ready when you are, Mr. Sanchez."

Josiah simply nodded and mounted Pharisee, leading the way out of town. More ready than I thought, he mused. This promises to be an interesting day…

It was. The village children's joy knew no bounds when two of their favorite people rode in on what was hands down their favorite horse; Josiah laughed out loud as they clustered around the young couple, every child trying to gain their attention at once, and finally dragged them away amidst a cacophony of questions.

"I see that our fox has chosen a mate," Grey Owl observed, nodding toward the happy scene. "I am glad to see it."

"So am I," Josiah agreed. "'Bout time that boy settled back down."

"Some hearts take longer to mend than others," the old man said thoughtfully. He gave the preacher a meaningful look. "And a newly mended heart is a fragile thing, sometimes requiring protection."

Josiah glanced back toward the adobes and saw Rain standing off to one side, frowning at the red-coated Southerner's retreating back; he frowned as well. "Especially from the venom on a blind man's tongue, I expect," he said unhappily. "I should have known the poison would spread in this direction. How bad is it?"

Grey Owl shrugged. "Seeing Little Feather's happiness today should be cure enough – except for my goddaughter, of course; she will no doubt deny the evidence of her eyes."

"Understandable," the preacher sighed. "Nathan's been doin' that for a while now.

Juliet had left foolscap and writing implements behind on her last visit, and the children were tumbling all over themselves in their eagerness to show her what had been done in her absence. Little Osceola had claimed his usual spot on her lap and, cuddled warm and comfortable under her arm, was quickly falling asleep. Juliet, looking over the 'book' her students had made her, absently dropped a kiss on the top of his head as she felt him snuggle in closer to her side.

Ezra felt once again the sharp pain he'd felt the night of the dance, and was more than a little shocked by his own naiveté; it honestly hadn't occurred to him until that moment that the natural outcome of marrying again would also mean…an eventual return to parenthood as well. The idea shook him, and his hand of its own volition reached into his waistcoat pocket and fingered his watch before he caught himself and pulled it out again. If she agreed to marry him, then some day there would be another little voice calling him papa, another pair of tiny arms wrapping themselves around his neck of an evening as he tucked a small body into bed with a kiss. The thought very nearly brought tears to his eyes. Ah have missed bein' a father as well as a husband, it seems…

Feeling eyes on him snapped Ezra out of his reverie; Nishola was looking from him to Juliet and back with an odd expression on his young face. Abruptly, the boy nodded to himself and then gathered three of the older children off to the side for a quickly whispered conference. This time the scrutiny was for Ezra alone as four pairs of serious brown eyes appraised him thoughtfully and then turned back to whatever secret they had been sharing. A moment later they broke apart, and three of the conspirators scattered back out among the other children while Nishola approached Juliet. "Little Feather," he began. "We have a guest today; shouldn't we do something special since Red Fox is here?"

He immediately had her full attention. "Of course, Nishola, we certainly should. Where is Red Fox?"

The children erupted into a chorus of giggles, and Ezra turned almost as red as his jacket. "Um, that would be myself, Miss Moore."

"You, Mr. Standish?" She was at once puzzled and delighted by the idea. "The children gave you an Indian name too? Why didn't you tell me?"

He became even more embarrassed. "Well, it's more of a nickname, really…"

"We found him in a fox den," one of the little girls piped up.

Juliet started to smile and then saw that the children as well as the gambler were deadly serious. Nishola answered the question before she could ask it. "He was ambushed on the trail by many bad men, and they shot him! And his horse was gone but he still got away, and he hid in the desert until the men stopped looking, and then Bright Owl came back when we were playing hide and seek and kept saying 'fox' so we went to the old fox den she likes to hide in and found him there sleeping and we couldn't wake him up. Then Grandfather and the others came and they brought him back to the village because he was hurt and we were all helping to take care of him, and Bright Owl kept calling him Fox so we all started to call him Red Fox because of his coat, even Grandfather!"

Nishola was out of breath by the time he finished his enthusiastically told story, and Juliet's eyes were as wide and round as saucers. "Oh my goodness!" she gasped, turning a troubled face to the man beside her. "No wonder you didn't say anything – what a terrible experience that must have been!"

"It wasn't so bad as it sounds," Ezra tried to reassure her. Actually, from his point of view, that was true; his flight through the desert was mostly a confused blur, and his only memories of those first few days in the village were distant impressions of heat and a dull ache in his side and of being made to drink something that tasted like boiled grass. A series of torrential rainstorms had been sweeping the countryside at that time as well, forcing everyone to stay indoors, and as a result he had been pampered and cosseted to within an inch of his life by the bored women and children of the village while he recovered – not an altogether unpleasant experience by any means. "The possibility of bein' ambushed is an occupational hazard in my profession – both of them, actually," he explained further, hoping it was a fact she could accept. "So is bein' shot at and occasionally havin' the gunman fail to miss; it comes with the territory, ah'm afraid."

"Yes, I understand that," Juliet responded, much to his relief; but her next words made his mouth drop open. "But I thought that was why lawmen didn't go into such situations without backup; you apparently were alone…" She looked like she wanted to say something else and didn't think she should, but there was a little frown on her face that told him she wasn't letting whatever it was go just yet; then she turned her attention back to Nishola and the frown became a smile again. "So, what did all of you think we should do?"

The boy had been confused by the brief but serious exchange between the two adults, especially since his whole intention had been to impress Little Feather with what a great warrior Red Fox was so that she would want him as a husband; he had heard his grandfather and Mr. Sanchez talking about finding her one, and the card-playing lawman with the golden smile and the wise horse would be perfect. Nishola hoped his plan would work. "We thought we would tell you a new story, the story about how the seven lawmen saved our village."

Juliet's eyes widened again, but she shook her head; Ezra almost sighed out loud with relief. "Nishola, it is nice of you to want to do something special for Mr Standish, but it would be rude to…"

Another of Nishola's accomplices stepped forward. "But…we wanted you to write it down! So everyone can read it!"

"You told us that one reason for books it to keep from forgetting things," Nishola reminded her. "I was only seven summers old when it happened, and I am already forgetting; some of the others don't remember at all! And with Red Fox here, he can make sure we tell it right – right, Red Fox?"

This time Ezra did sigh out loud. "That might be debatable," he said slowly. Juliet looked troubled, and he smiled to reassure her. "It's all right, ma chere; but perhaps it might be advisable to have Mr. Sanchez and Grey Owl join us as well, for the sake of…accountability."

The young woman's frown came back, drawing a little line between her eyes, but she again kept her thoughts to herself. "Nishola, if you would go ask Mr. Sanchez and your grandfather to join us?" The boy raced off, beaming, and Juliet set the rest of the children to work readying a place for the older men to sit. "You're certain about this, Mr. Standish?" she asked quietly.

"He's right about writing it down," was Ezra's answer. "Jock Steele wrote a dime-novel about it, but his version was…significantly less than factual, and it almost entirely ignored these people who should have been its focus." He took a chance and reached over to pat her hand. "Ah believe you can do bettah."

To his surprise, the small hand turned and clasped his, squeezing a gentle reassurance. "Ah believe you've left me little choice, Mr. Standish; it appeahs that more than just my reputation may be affected by the outcome of this endeavor." Nishola returned with the two older men before Ezra had sufficiently recovered himself to respond, and Juliet squeezed his hand one final time before releasing him and taking up her writing materials.

Telling the story of the defense of the Seminole village against the Ghosts of the Confederacy took up the entire afternoon and caused Ezra more than one uncomfortable moment – and Josiah as well as he watched Juliet's frown come and go and her indigo eyes get wider and wider; several times she shot a horrified look at the discomfited gambler, and the big preacher could only imagine that his carefully laid matchmaking plans had all just been knocked into a cocked hat. Conversely, Grey Owl seemed to find something about the situation terribly amusing but refused to comment on it, instead favoring Josiah with a knowing smile and a quietly murmured request to be invited to the wedding as they prepared to take their leave.

Juliet was quiet when they first set out on the ride home, obviously thinking hard about something – but she didn't stay quiet for long. "Mr. Standish?" Her voice was low and slightly hesitant, but the underlying current of determination in it that told him she would expect an answer. "Did you know any of those men? The ones who attacked the village?"

Ezra started slightly, the question taking him by surprise; he saw Josiah's puzzled expression and raised eyebrow and wondered what the man had been expecting Juliet to ask him. "Perhaps," he answered slowly. "There was at least one man there ah thought ah recognized…and of course, ah knew Colonel Anderson by reputation." Josiah's mouth dropped open, and Ezra allowed himself a small, pleased smile. "You know, cherie, you are the first person who's evah thought to ask me that question."

He could hear the frown in her voice. "Ah would think it would have been obvious," was the answer. Then she stiffened with a little gasp and twisted around to look up into his face with an outraged expression. "You mean they all thought that you…"

"Just ran off like the self-servin' coward ah am? Ah'm afraid so, my dear." Ezra chuckled and tightened his arm around her waist on the pretense that she might lose her balance. "Although ah believe Mr. Larabee must have had an inkling of mah moral dilemma seein' as how he didn't shoot me on the spot when ah returned."

"He told you not to run out on him again," Josiah said slowly, suddenly understanding. "It didn't make any sense the more we got to know you, but at the time we all just thought you must've gone after the gold…"

The gambler's grin widened as Juliet turned shocked, indignant eyes on the preacher. She looks like a kitten gettin' ready to hiss, he thought. It seems that someone doesn't like to see injustice done; ah shall have to remember that… "Assumin' again, Josiah?" Ezra inquired casually, and felt the small woman relax as she heard the amusement in his voice. Hmm, but you don't let that protective streak cloud your reason or blind you to what's goin' on; my dear, you just stepped ahead of almost everyone ah know. "Ah did stop to have a look at the mine on my way out, out of curiosity." he admitted. "Considerin' the instability of the shaft, ah wouldn't be surprised if the original excavator was buried somewhere inside it – the first shot from that damnable cannon almost brought the ceiling down on top of me. But minin' as a vocation, me? Ah much prefer to pick mah gold up in a nice clean saloon, thank you very much, and let more foolhardy souls have the pleasure of wrestin' it from the bowels of the earth."

Josiah chuckled and shook his head. "That's my boy."

Ezra sighed theatrically. "Do you hear that?" he asked Juliet in a long-suffering tone. "The man developed this indefensible delusion of paternity not long after ah met him; at first ah interpreted it as bein' a disparagin' comment on mah height." He aimed a mock glare at the preacher. "Of course, sometimes ah still wonder."

"Ah don't think so," Juliet observed seriously, looking an apology at the preacher. "Ah don't believe Mr. Sanchez would be so callous in his dealin's with a friend…and he doesn't speak of Sheriff Dunne that way."

"Quite right, Miss Julie," Josiah agreed, even more amused now that he saw what Grey Owl had been seeing: Juliet's little hand clasping Ezra's reassuringly and the bemused look on the gambler's face as he tried to process what was going on. Gotta be a whole new experience for you, son, he thought, watching the two young people out of the corner of his eye. She obviously ain't one to let anything slide if she can help it; I wonder what's gonna happen if Nathan ever lays into you in front of her? A shiver rippled up his spine at that thought, the chill wind of premonition, but Josiah shook it off. Naw, Nate ain't that lost to reason…

When Ezra left the saloon that night to make his habitual patrol of the dusty streets, he was still contemplating all the thoughts he'd had earlier that day. Marriage, parenthood, his reputation, the more unpleasant aspects of his job…and running through it all, Juliet. Throughout the whole surprising day they'd just had, the woman he'd fallen in love with had yet to react the way any other woman would have to a single one of the shocking things she'd heard about him; she'd been accepting, she'd been understanding, she'd thought things out…she'd been angry on his behalf because no one else had apparently accepted, understood or thought. And when she'd tried to smooth out one of the small contentions between himself and Josiah, it had been all Ezra could do not to throw himself off Orpheus' back and beg her to marry him on the spot.

And I might have, he reflected, walking silently around the bank to check the side door, had I a proper ring with me at the time. Juliet deserved a ring. And she deserves a husband who doesn't make his livin' spendin' every night behind a poker table, his conscience scolded him, sounding remarkably like Rosa May. Or who lives in 'bachelor lodgin's' above that same saloon. Ezra had to agree with that; Juliet deserved a home of her own, and – although he would never entirely give up his cards – it might be time to once again adopt a more respectable profession for her sake as well. Four Corners was growing, hanging up his shingle as a lawyer there could prove just profitable enough to provide the status he wanted for his wife while dovetailing neatly with his job as a peacekeeper. And as to poker…the gambler grinned, thinking of the high-stakes poker game he'd heard about taking place in Eagle Bend in two days. He needed a ring, a new set of lawbooks, and a little more working capital than he had at the moment to purchase a house in town and bring it up to his standards, but he wanted to reserve the valuable cache of liquid assets secreted in his room for another purpose; a few days in Eagle Bend should be enough to take care of everything to his satisfaction, assuming that Chris would give him the time off…

Light and a flash of white from an attic window caught his eye, and he looked up to see the object of his plans leaning on the windowsill of her room above the store and apparently watching the stars, completely oblivious to his presence. Ezra stopped in his tracks and smiled at the sight, claiming it for himself alone; and once again the soft silver-blue light of moon and star caressing alabaster skin and ebony hair moved him to poetry. "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? 'Tis the East; and Juliet, she is the sun." She started and blushed deeply and he hastened to make amends. "My sincere apologies, Miss Moore; I was carried away by the moment."

The affection in her shy smile warmed him through and through. "You needn't apologize, E…Mr. Standish, you just surprised me; I never expected to hear Romeo call to me from beneath my window." One slender hand pushed the fall of dark hair back over her shoulder. "It is such a lovely night. It must be a pleasure to do your duty on a night such as this."

Oh, lately it has been. Aloud he answered, "Most definitely, cherie. Ah already find myself lookin' forward to my next patrol – assumin' this fine weather holds, of course."

She laughed, a delicate, magical sound in the moonlight. "Of course." Her hand rose to the window sash, white skin glowing briefly golden as the lamplight touched it. "Good night, Mr. Standish. Be safe."

"Ah shall certainly endeavor to do so," he replied, tipping his hat as she pulled the window closed. "Good night, Miss Moore. Pleasant dreams." He waited until her light was extinguished before resuming his patrol, humming a waltz under his breath. He failed to notice the brooding figure that stood watching him from the shadows near the boarding house.

Nathan frowned when he saw Ezra, dressed for a long ride, walk purposefully into the saloon early the next morning. He quickened his pace to catch up. Damned Southerner, bet he's tryin' get out of duty again for some poker game somewhere. It'll be good to see Chris knock him down a peg or two – and I gotta remember to tell Chris about him botherin' little Miss Julie last night, too. Kinda surprised Mrs. Potter ain't put a stop to him hangin' around her…

The tall healer pushed open the saloon doors and was surprised not to hear Chris Larabee's angry voice chastising the gambler. He was even more surprised to see the black-clad gunslinger clasp Ezra's forearm in a warrior's grip. "Sure you can stay out of trouble?"

Ezra tipped his hat, grinning. "I have every intention of doing so, Chris – and my incentive to return unharmed is unimpeachable."

"See you in four days, then," Chris said with a smile as the gambler retreated. "Good luck, Ezra."

"Ah'm countin' on it," Ezra called back over his shoulder. He brushed past the stunned healer with a smile and a nod and vanished into the street.

Larabee lifted his coffee to his lips as Nathan approached; the healer failed to notice that his leader's smile had disappeared. "Something on your mind, Nathan?"

"Why'd you let him go, Chris? Man's got responsibilities here! You know he's just going to find some poker game somewhere…"

"So he told me," Chris agreed, pouring a shot of whiskey into the coffee.

"And you still let him go?"

Chris allowed a hint of the smile to creep back as he contemplated the steaming liquid in his cup. "Man is a gambler, Nathan."

The healer stared at him for a moment, started to say something, and then turned on his heel and walked back out of the saloon. Buck wandered over from where he'd been standing at the bar annoying Inez and dropped into a chair across from Chris. "Don't know about you, pard, but I'm gettin more than a mite tired of that."

Larabee slid the bottle over to him and slouched back in his chair. "Makes five of us, I think," he said grimly. "Never thought when all this started that the 'bigoted Southern bastard' would turn out to be Nathan. Vin's about ready to shoot him, and Josiah isn't far behind."

"That'll be me too, if the idiot upsets Miss Julie," Buck countered, taking a pull from the bottle. "That is, if'n I get to him before Ezra does."

"If'n you don't, won't be enough left of him to find," remarked Vin, pulling up a chair beside Chris. "Seen Ez already up and about – somethin' goin' on?"

"Big game in Eagle Bend," Larabee confirmed. "Raising a stake to do some 'important shopping', said he'd be back in four days."

"Shoppin'!" Buck plunked the bottle down and slid it across to the tracker. "Lookin to buy what I think?"

"Reckon so." Chris took the bottle from Vin and doctored his coffee again before handing it back. His smile had returned. "Always thought JD'd be the first one to get married off. Guess I was wrong."

"Guess there's a first time for everything," Buck teased, earning himself a mock glare from the gunslinger. But he sobered quickly. "When I was comin' back from Miss Annabelle's last night I saw Ezra out doin' his patrol, quoting Shakespeare under Miss Julie's window."

Chris frowned, knowing from his friend's grim expression that there was something more. "And?"

"Nathan was watchin' them from the boardin' house with that pissed-off look on his face. Heard him mutter somethin' about havin' a talk with Mrs. Potter. Thought you might want to know."

"God damn him," Larabee growled, feeling a large part of his good mood evaporate. "God damned self-righteous bastard probably will, too."

Vin pushed the half-empty bottle away. He looked worried. "We gotta stop him, Chris! You didn't see Ezra in the restaurant that mornin', waitin' to see Miss Julie's response to his courtin' from the night before; it'll damn near kill him if he loses her now."

"Loses who?" Josiah was standing behind Vin's chair, looking down at the three younger men with a suspicious frown. The looks they gave him reminded him of his premonition from the night before and he groaned. "Oh Lord no! What happened?"

"Nothin' yet, but we think Nathan's plannin' to interfere." Buck stood up, needing to move. "He was spyin' on the two of 'em last night, mutterin' to himself about havin' a talk with Mrs. Potter…" To the ladies' man's utter shock, the ex-preacher grinned broadly and sat down at the table. "Josiah, this ain't funny! We gotta do somethin'…"

Josiah reached for the bottle. "It ain't funny yet, Brothers, but it's about to be," he chuckled, dismissing yesterday's chill as a product of his age and taking a swig of the whiskey. "Sit down, Buck, and let me tell you boys a story."

Buck sat slowly, seeing his confusion reflected by Chris and Vin. Josiah cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, my brothers, there was an honorable man who made his living convincing people that he was a low-down lying snake." His grin widened. "He wasn't, of course; he was a gentleman with a heart of purest gold who didn't have a mean bone in his entire body – although he would deny that characterization with his last breath, just for appearances sake. Well, one day this man saw a lady who was brave and beautiful and good, and from that moment on his heart belonged to her, and he began to act in the manner of those who have lost their hearts. And when through his heartfelt attentions he had gained the love of his gentle lady, he did what any other honorable gentleman would do and," his pale blue eyes sparkled with amusement, "asked her adopted mother for permission to marry her daughter – permission which, I might add, was wholeheartedly given along with the good woman's blessing."

Dead silence. Then Chris Larabee threw back his head and started to laugh, quickly joined by Buck and Vin. "Oh god, Nathan's never gonna know what hit him; Mrs. Potter'll nail him better than I ever could."

"And then she'll tell Miz Travis and Miz Abbott what he said and he'll catch double hell from them," Buck added, tears streaming from his eyes. "Oh, I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard, he doesn't stand a chance against them two."

"Not a chance in hell," Vin agreed, wiping at his own eyes. "Josiah, when exactly did this happen?"

The ex-preacher grinned wickedly. "Yesterday after we got back; he came to me as soon as he had Mrs. Potter's blessing to ask me to do the honors if the occasion arose. Ain't never seen the man that happy. Asked me to keep it a secret for a little while, afraid someone would find out and tell Miss Julie before he had his chance to ask her proper."

"That sly devil," Buck said, shaking his head. "I just bet he will do it proper, too. Hope he does it where we can all see the show."

"He'll almost have to, for propriety's sake," Chris mused. "Ezra's been very careful of Miss Julie's reputation, making sure he didn't start talk – he won't risk it now." He grinned at Josiah. "Bet you're sure proud of your boy, aren't you, Josiah?"

"Couldn't be prouder," the older man agreed. A small, worried thought crossed his mind, and he put it aside to bring up with Larabee alone later, not wanting to spoil the jubilant mood of his fellow peacekeepers. I just hope the boy's mother feels the same…

The men broke apart after a while, separating to pursue their various duties around the town; Josiah kept himself busy working on the church, the familiar chores taking on new significance as he thought about the ceremony that would be held there in the near future. It wouldn't be the first wedding he'd performed in Four Corners, but Ezra was a part of his family and he wanted everything to be perfect. The shuffling of plans and ideas in his head lent a happy rhythm to his work throughout the long, hot day and kept him company on his afternoon patrol.

The sun was lowering, shadows beginning to fall when he finally returned to town. Josiah again felt that shiver run down his spine and settle as a cold feeling deep in his gut when Mrs. Potter came hurrying up to him outside the saloon. "Mr. Sanchez, thank god," she said breathlessly, grabbing his arm in her agitation. "You've got to help me. It's Julie…"

The cold feeling sharpened into icy claws. "What about Miss Julie?"

"She's gone, I don't know where." The normally composed woman was almost sobbing. "Mr. Jackson stopped by to talk to me, made all kinds of ridiculous accusations – I didn't know she was there! Cissy said she turned as white as a ghost and ran out of the house, and no one has seen her since. Oh, Mr. Sanchez, I'm so worried! If she heard even half the horrible things he said, there's no telling…"

"Nothing will happen to Miss Julie," he interrupted firmly, mentally cursing Nathan. His hand clasped hers briefly. "You go on back home, I'll find her and make sure she's all right."

She looked relieved. "Do you know where she might have gone?"

"I think so. Don't you worry, Mrs. Potter, we'll take care of it."

Apparently reassured, she turned and hurried back to the store. Josiah looked over the saloon's batwing doors and caught Chris Larabee's eye; the gunslinger was at his side in an instant. "Trouble?"

The preacher let the anger he was feeling show. "I'm a fool," he spat. "I knew Mrs. Potter could handle Nathan, but it never occurred to me that Miss Julie might be there to hear him. Mrs. Potter says she took off. I'm guessing she's sought the sanctuary of the church garden."

"You're probably right," Chris growled, his jaw tight. "I'll send JD and Buck after Nathan and meet you there. This ends tonight."

"Amen to that, Brother," Josiah agreed grimly. The two men headed off in opposite directions without another word.

Nathan was surprised, to say the least, when JD and Buck dragged him from his clinic and over to the church, one of Buck's hands clamped firmly across his mouth to keep him from saying anything. The large bulk of Josiah stepped out of the shadows to meet them, and one heavy hand took a firm grip on the back of the healer's collar. "I do not want to hear a god-damned word from you, understand?" the preacher snarled quietly in his ear. "Got somethin' here we want you to see."

The three men walked their prisoner as quietly as possible around the corner of the church, keeping to the deepening shadows. The dusty golden rays of the setting sun were gently gilding the simple garden on the building's west side with a soft haze of ageless light. The brown-clad figure crumpled sobbing against the crude wooden bench seemed so much a part of the scene that Nathan didn't quite realize the significance of what he was seeing until he heard JD's sharp intake of breath and Buck's muttered curse. They let him look for a long moment before pulling him away, but the hand wasn't removed from his mouth until they had gone far enough away to be certain of not disturbing the weeping woman. Anger flowed over him in a hot wave. "I knew this would happen, tried to tell all of you but no, you wouldn't listen! That worthless conniving snake…"

Nathan never saw the fist that collided with his jaw, but he was dizzily aware of Buck yanking him ungently back to his feet. "That was for Miss Julie," Josiah's quiet, rage-filled voice rumbled. "You went over the line this time, Nathan."

"I went…what the hell are you talkin' about, Josiah?" Nathan stared at his friend in disbelief. "That no-good Southern bas…"

He missed seeing the second fist as well, but was pretty sure it belonged to Buck. "And that was for Ezra," the ladies' man hissed furiously. "God damn you make me sick, Jackson!"

This time it was JD who pulled him upright. "I can't believe you did it, Nathan," the young sheriff said disgustedly. "I thought you were a better person than that. Guess I was wrong."

"You weren't wrong, JD." The cold voice of the man in black startled them all. Chris was advancing purposefully from the direction of the church, his black hat shadowing his face and effectively hiding his expression. "He is a better person than that. But he's also a bigot, and a bigot can't think past his prejudice."

"Prejudice?!" Nathan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You know that ain't right, I ain't got no problem with white folks!"

"Nope, but you damn sure got a problem with Southerners – one in particular." The healer had never until that moment been a recipient of the Larabee glare, and he experienced a sudden epiphany that revealed Chris Larabee as a terrifyingly dangerous individual. Those intense turquoise eyes never left his as Larabee issued his orders. "JD, you go tell Mrs. Potter that Julie's okay; Josiah, you're in charge of seeing that she gets home – she's just about cried herself senseless, from the looks of it. Buck, go back to the jail and wait for Vin, he's due back from patrol soon and you'll need to fill him in." A cold smile flitted across the gunslinger's features. "Nathan and I are gonna have a little talk, and then I'll join you boys in the saloon."

Three angry men smiled every bit as coldly as their leader before walking away; Nathan suddenly felt very much alone and vulnerable. He didn't realize he'd been backing away from the menacing figure in front of him until his back collided with an unyielding wall. Maybe him doin' this to Ezra ain't so funny after all, the healer thought regretfully. "Chris…"

"Don't wanna hear it," Larabee hissed; he was less than a foot away now. "I'm gonna talk, you're gonna listen; and when I'm done either your problem will be finished or you will, got it?" The healer nodded, swallowing hard. "You better, Jackson, 'cause we're only gonna do this once."

Chris got right to the point. "You stepped over the line this time, Nathan, and you are damned lucky Ezra ain't here or he'd have probably called you out – and he might still do it, and don't think any of us will try to stop him 'cause he's got the right." He grabbed the front of the healer's shirt and shook him when he saw denial flash across the dark face. "Did it ever occur to you that you might not know exactly what was going on? If you'd been paying attention to something besides your own opinion, you might have noticed that Ezra is head over heels in love with that little woman! We all knew he was courtin' her, and a damn fine job he's made of it, too; he's been a perfect gentleman and had a care for her reputation, done his best not to start talk. Hell, Mrs. Potter gave him her blessing just yesterday to ask for Julie's hand!"

Nathan's mouth dropped open in shock. "She did?" He shook his head. "Well why didn't he just tell me that? Damn fool never wants to explain himself…"

"He doesn't have to explain himself to you, you arrogant bastard!" Chris exploded. "And god damn it, Nathan, you do not have the right to second-guess every move he makes, either! We've all seen you pulling this self-righteous crap for the past two years and no one called you on it because he didn't – not because he's guilty, you idiot, but because he doesn't want to fight."

The healer's mouth twisted. "Cause he knows I'm right. Look at the way he acted when Miz Parker was here, would barely let me get close enough to her to say hello! Man don't want to face…"

"Son of a bitch!" Chris shook him again. "God damn it, Nathan, are you listening to yourself? There you go again, passing judgment when you don't know what's going on; Ezra was protecting you from Rosa May, not the other way around! Woman ain't got no use for what she calls a 'Union Negro' and I can't say I blame her, not after she told us what'd happened to her during the war." He leaned in close, his face inches from Nathan's. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "You know, she's damned proud of Ez for even bein' able to ride with you; apparently it was men like you that killed his family and burned his home. She says he kept his promise right well."

Men like…killed his…! "P-promise? What promise?"

Larabee smiled coldly. "Ever notice the wedding ring he wears, the one he never takes off? 'Course, I'm sure you did and just wrote it off as bein' part of some con he was runnin'. Well, it seems that before Ezra went off to war his wife made him promise not to 'harbor a desire for vengeance in his heart' if anything happened while he was gone. Man takes that promise damn serious, too; told Rosa May he had to come West to keep it." He backed off abruptly, and Nathan would have fallen if the wall hadn't been at his back. "I don't know if I could've done it, Nathan, and I'm pretty damn sure I couldn't have been civil to a smug bastard like you after those 'Union Negroes' murdered my wife and three year old daughter and the infant son I'd yet to lay eyes on and then kidnapped the housekeeper that treated me like her own son. I have to say that, in that respect, Ezra's a better man than almost any I've ever known."

Nathan's response was horrified silence, the picture Larabee had painted making him feel sick. How had he made such a mistake? Except for that first day in the saloon, the Southerner had never shown a hint of prejudice toward him, never once hesitated to ride beside him or share his company – yet he could see now that he had yet to return the favor. He had treated Ezra the way the gambler had refused to treat him, had accused an honorable man of the bigotry that he himself had displayed. He had spent his life claiming to be better than those who had enslaved him, only to mirror their vices once free. "Oh lord, what have I done?" he whispered. "How could I have been so blind?"

"That's what we've all been wondering," Chris said unsympathetically. "I reckon you'd better stay home to figure it out tonight; saloon might not be too healthy a place for you until the boys cool off some. And I'd recommend you steer clear of Vin for a spell; one thing about them Rebs, they stick together."

"But Vin ain't no…"

A harsh chuckle passed Larabee's lips. "The hell he ain't – why'd you think he'd been livin' with the Indians, Jackson? Little bastard didn't want to give up his guns, holed up in the Nation until the worst of it blew over then popped back out and started huntin' bounties. So if I were you, I'd be prepared to hear 'Dixie' played on that harmonica of his every time he thinks of it for a while – just be glad Ez won't sing it with him when you're around to hear, he's too much of a gentleman for that." His eyes narrowed, and Nathan felt like the black-clad gunslinger was looking straight into his suddenly unworthy soul. Chris nodded once, apparently seeing what he was looking for. "Get your ass on back to the clinic. We'll talk about what we're goin' to do about this mess tomorrow morning, bright and early. You come straight to the jail, you hear? Don't make me come looking for you."

Larabee turned on his heel without waiting for a response and headed back toward the saloon, his black duster flapping in his wake. Nathan sagged against the wall, shaking. "Wouldn't want that," he whispered. "Pretty sure I know what would happen once you found me."

After a long, mostly sleepless night, Nathan left the safety of his clinic and made his way to the jail, consumed by a sense of fearful anticipation he hadn't known since his days as a slave. But there was anger simmering inside him as well, feeding off his fear; anger spawned from the familiar, hated feeling of being powerless and at the mercy of others – and once again because of Southerners, at that. Just like one of them fluttery Southern belles, get all hysterical over nothin' and get everyone all worked up, he thought bitterly, remembering some of the young white women that had been at the plantation so long ago. That's all we need 'round here, some helpless little female tryin' to get attention from all the menfolk an' causin' trouble left and right. 'Course Ezra's gonna like that, though, he likes to cause trouble his own self – an' she's what he's used to, I'll bet. I'll bet he done seen somethin' he can use, there…

Josiah took one look at him when he walked into the jail and shook his head. "I knew it; been workin' yourself up all night, haven't you? Managed to find a way to blame it on my boy yet?"

Nathan's mouth dropped open. "Looks like," Vin commented without humor. "You shore called that one, Preacher."

"Wish I hadn't," was the unhappy reply. "This ain't gonna be easy."

"Didn't think it was," Chris sighed, leaning back in the battered chair behind the desk and looking up at Nathan. "Was kind of hoping that a little of the sense he saw last night would stick, though; thought I made more of an impression than that, must be losin' my touch."

"I just had time to think is all," Nathan said, pushing back his anger in the hopes of getting them to see his point. "Time to reason things out. Now I don't know about all those things you told me last night, 'bout his wife an' all, but if they're true then that would explain some things."

"But you don't think they're true." Larabee's voice was very even. "So, you think Rosa May was lying?"

Nathan nodded, feeling relief; Chris was listening to him, listening to reason now that everyone had calmed down some. "He was her master, sounds like he must've treated her pretty decent for a slave; 'course she'd back him up. Ain't her fault. That was why I wanted a chance to talk to her alone like while she was here, try to make her see the truth."

"Remember hearin' you say that," Josiah rumbled quietly. "But that don't explain what happened last night. Why'd you go over and talk to Mrs. Potter?"

"Had to be done," the healer answered gravely. "Couldn't let him go on like that, hangin' around Miss Julie, it was indecent. 'Course Miz Potter didn't see it that way, but she'll thank me later."

"Wouldn't count on that," Vin said. "See now why you sent Buck an' JD out on patrol, Chris; this would've done gotten ugly if Buck was here."

"Didn't need Buck to make it ugly," was Larabee's reply. "It got that way last night, and now we've gotta deal with it. Any ideas?"

"Miss Julie ain't gonna get over this any time soon," Josiah told him. "She was so upset last night that Mrs. Potter and I couldn't hardly get two words out of her before she ran upstairs and hid in her room, heard her start cryin' again as soon as the door was closed."

Nathan shook his head. Yep, just like those girls on the plantation; hysterics at the drop of a hat. "I'll go have a talk with her…" he began.

"You go anywhere near her," Vin spat. "An' I'll take you apart with my bare hands."

The healer's self-righteous anger bubbled up again. "Oh yeah, that's right; you Rebs all stick together, I forgot."

Vin's blue eyes went flat and cold. "Ain't got nothin' to do with Ez an' I bein' Confederates," the tracker told him with obvious disgust. "Got everythin' to do with him bein' my friend – an' since my friend ain't here, you just stay the hell away from his woman or you'll answer to me."

"Vin." It wasn't quite a warning.

Tanner shook his head. "I ain't keepin' my mouth shut no more, Chris; hell, I ain't sure now that we were right to stay outta this as long as we did."

"Didn't think he'd take it to anyone else," Josiah rumbled. "And I knew my boy would stop him if he tried. Never anticipated this." And ignored the sign that told me to, won't make that mistake again…

"None of us did," Chris said grimly, frowning at Nathan. "Don't see how we could have – but you may be right, Vin, maybe we should've let him know sooner that we were gettin' tired of it."

"Don't talk about me like I ain't here!" Nathan exploded. "I'm standin' right here, you all can damn well talk to me and not around me!" He scowled at them all, but saved his deepest scorn for the man he'd thought was his best friend. "And dammit, he ain't your son."

The preacher's big body stiffened all over and his pale blue eyes turned icy. Chris and Vin exchanged a worried look; although Josiah would just smile when Ezra corrected his 'paternal delusions', none of the others had ever made the mistake of trespassing too far into what they realized was some very personal ground between the preacher and the gambler. Josiah didn't often allow himself to get mad, but when he did it tended to be very…Old Testament, and both men feared that the wrath of god might be about to visit itself upon the stubborn healer.

But to everyone's surprise, it didn't; the preacher just sat there, waiting. Nathan didn't make him wait long. "You can glare at me all you want, Josiah, but that ain't gonna change what Ezra Standish is, and what he is ain't good enough to be a good man's son; he's a troublemakin', lyin', cheatin' conman an' while I'd expect that silly little girl over at the Potters' to be fool enough to fall for whatever game he's playin' with her, I can't believe all of you fell for it too! You all know that his kind don't marry no decent woman 'cause no decent woman would have him…"

His voice trailed off when Chris turned a turquoise glare in his direction. "That what you told Mrs. Potter yesterday?" he asked tightly.

Nathan found himself feeling confused; he'd been certain that once he showed the others what was going on… "Yeah, that's pretty much what I told her. It's the truth!" But there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. "It's gotta all be a con, just some big cheat."

"'Course it does – else you'd be wrong, and that can't happen, can it, Nate?" Josiah sighed. "Well, that explains it," he said heavily. "Explains the look I saw in her eyes last night, explains why she told Mrs. Potter she was sorry."

"Explains why Miz Abbott stopped me in the street this mornin'," Vin said in a low, controlled voice. "She wanted to know what had gone on, said Miss Julie was as pale as a ghost an' not talkin' – just like after she shot that outlaw." He gave the healer a decidedly unfriendly look. "I told her not to worry about it, we'd be takin' care of it this mornin'."

"And we are," Chris said grimly. "Jackson, I don't want to see you anywhere near the hotel or the dry goods store until I say otherwise; you need somethin', you ask one of us. And I don't want you out walkin' around town too much, either…"

"Why don't you just confine me to the clinic like you did last night?" the healer asked bitterly.

"I'd like to." The answer surprised him; looking up, he saw a look of disgust in Larbee's eyes that rivaled his anger from the night before. "But that would start talk, and we don't need that right now; there's gonna be enough talk as it is, and god help you if any of it gets back to Eagle Bend in the next couple days. All we can do now is try to keep a handle on this thing and hope that Ezra's in such a good mood when he gets home that he won't want to spoil it by killin' you."

True to his word, Ezra rode back into Four Corners four days after he had left, sporting heavily loaded saddlebags and a smile that rivaled the sun for brightness. He pulled Orpheus up short in front of the jail and saluted Chris with a flourish. "How fared this town in my absence, Mr. Larabee?"

"I reckon we did okay," Chris drawled from his comfortable sprawl on the tipped-back chair. "Did you get what you went after?"

"Indeed I did," the gambler said happily. "And more besides. Now if you'll excuse me, Orpheus requires my attention. Am I on patrol tonight?"

"Only if you want to be."

Ezra winked. "Then I'll be seein' you in the saloon later, sir; put me down for tomorrow mornin's rounds instead."

"Can do, Ez." Chris grinned at the retreating form, watching him dismount in front of the livery stable and lead his tired horse inside. The grin disappeared as soon as the gambler was out of sight. Shit, how are we ever gonna tell him? He's gonna kill Nathan outright once he sees Miss Julie…

It had been a long three days. Nathan had remained stubbornly defiant for most of that first day, and then Mary Travis had stopped in to the store to talk to Gloria; Chris had seen her storming up the stairs to the clinic a little later and had smiled in a way that made several people cross the street to get away from him. He was waiting when she came back down almost an hour later, meeting her at the foot of the stairs to offer his arm and walk her back to the newspaper office. Chris ate dinner at Mary's house that night, and Nathan showed up at the saloon once the gunslinger returned and apologized to five of the six men he rode with. There were still some hard feelings, but the healer's shame and regret had been sincere and the bond between the men was still intact; Nathan had spent a lot of time since that night talking to Josiah.

Juliet, however, still wasn't talking to anyone – and according to Mrs. Potter she hadn't been eating, either. That much was obvious to anyone who saw her; the small woman had taken on a frail, fragile appearance and her wide eyes had shadows in and around them that refused to lift. She had become a ghostly echo of the person who had been there before, slowly fading away. And only Ezra would be able to bring her back.

They spent two hours trying to tell him. The normally reserved gambler was almost beside himself with nervous anticipation, barely able to sit still in his chair while he waited for Juliet to leave the hotel kitchen for the evening. Trying to distract himself, he told them all about his trip to Eagle Bend and the poker game in great detail and asked endless questions about the goings on in town during his absence, completely missing the uncomfortable silences and half-finished sentences that normally would have alerted him to a problem within minutes of sitting down. Chris finally signaled the rest of the men to stop trying and just hoped for the best.

Ezra checked his watch one last time, smiled and stood up, straightening his jacket and cuffs fussily. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me…I believe I have an appointment to keep."

The sun was collapsing into a wondrous array of colors as he left the saloon and headed nervously across the darkening street toward the hotel. Right on time, the slender figure he was expecting stepped into the street as well, head down, tiredly hurrying toward the dry goods store. "Miss Moore," he called softly.

The dark head snapped up, indigo eyes wide. "Mr. Standish! You're back!"

"I believe I did say four days," he said, drawing closer. He bit back a gasp when he saw her more clearly and closed the distance between them in two frightened steps, catching hold of her arms to look down into her face. "Juliet! Whatevah has been going on in my absence? Have you been ill?"

Slender, trembling fingers closed almost convulsively on the velvet sleeves of his red jacket, but the young woman made a valiant attempt to maintain her composure. "It's nothing, Ezra, nothing." She managed a small but genuine smile and tried to keep her voice light. "I am so glad you're back! Was your trip enjoyable?"

"Not as enjoyable as coming home was," he said softly, disengaging one hand to brush a glittering drop of moisture from her pale cheek. "Are these for me? Did you miss me so much, my dear?"

She dropped her overflowing eyes guiltily. "I know I'm silly, Ezra," she whispered. "I'm sorry…but I did miss you. Four days was…"

"…an eternity," he finished for her, lifting her chin and gently forcing her to look at him. "And you're not silly, Juliet – whatevah could have given you that idea? Ah missed you, too." He blinked back the tears from his own eyes and smiled down at her. "And…ah brought you something, if you would care to have it. May I?" He had the satisfaction of seeing curiosity replace some of the sadness in her glorious eyes as she nodded. His smile widened, and the butterflies in his stomach began to stampede as he pulled the small box out of his pocket. "You must promise to tell me if this is not to your liking," he cautioned, receiving another nod in answer. With a sigh, he put the box in her hands and waited until she had opened it before dropping to one knee and removing his hat with a flourish worthy of a musketeer. "Juliet, would you do me the very great honor of becomin' my wife?"

Juliet's breath caught in her throat as she looked from the dainty gold ring in her hands into the hopeful emerald eyes of the man kneeling before her. "You're sure?" she whispered. "You want to marry…me?"

He took her hands in his, the disbelief in her shadowed eyes tearing at his heart. "I've never been more certain of anything in my entire misbegotten life," he assured her. He pulled the ring from its nest of silk and slid it onto her finger. "Will you, dearest? Will you marry me?"

The smile he loved to see was back in all its glory, along with the charming rosy blush. "Of course, Ezra. I would be honored to become your wife."

"The honor is mine, I assure you," he declared, pressing a gentle kiss to the hand bearing his ring. Regaining his feet, he enfolded her in his arms and lowered his face to within inches of hers. "Oh, Juliet, you have just made me the happiest man alive."

An explosion of cheers and applause from the doorway of the saloon startled them both before the kiss could become interesting; in fact, Juliet started so violently that Ezra became concerned all over again. Something had obviously happened in his absence…he abruptly realized that his friends had been trying to tell him something the entire time he'd been waiting in the saloon, something that was too disturbing to all of them for anyone to just come right out and say it. He kept one arm around the small woman's slender shoulders and gave an 'I'll be back later' wave to his friends with the other, noticing abruptly that one face had been conspicuously absent since his arrival in town. Mrs. Potter will tell me, he thought, suspicion already growing inside of him. Oh Lord, don't let it be what I think; the man cannot possibly have become that lost to reason… To Juliet he said warmly, "Cherie, ah believe we should go inform Mrs. Potter of what has transpired; she and the children will doubtless be lookin' for you to be comin' home, and she'll have my hide if she sees us standin' around outside in the street like this. Shall we?"

She took his offered arm with another smile and a nod, but he could feel her trembling and had to resist the urge to just scoop her up in his arms and carry her. Instead he clasped his warm hand over her cold one and headed purposefully toward the dry goods store. Oh please don't let it be what I think…

When Ezra returned to the saloon almost an hour later, an uncomfortable silence fell over the room; no one in Four Corners had ever seen the normally easygoing gambler looking so dangerously angry. He stalked past his friends with a scant nod and advanced on the dark-skinned man sitting alone near the back of the room. Nathan stood when he saw him coming, but was still unprepared for the force that shoved him painfully against the wall and pinned him there. For the second time in four days, Nathan came to the unpleasant realization that he had vastly underestimated how dangerous one of his friends actually was. "Ezra, I…"

"Ah don't want to hear it!" the gambler growled, his accent thickened by rage. "Ah've let you play this little game for the past two years, Jackson, and ah've nevah said a word, NOT ONE WORD! Not because ah felt guilty for my upbringin' or the color of the uniform ah once wore and not because ah am ashamed of mah chosen vocation, but because ah understood your need to vent yourself at someone and you nevah turned that venomous tongue against anyone but me – until now." His hand twisted in Nathan's collar and he shook the larger man roughly. "The woman ah love has been pinin' herself sick for three days because you cannot let go of the GOD DAMNED WAR!"

He let go and stepped back so abruptly that Nathan fell to his knees, staring up in speechless shock at the enraged Southerner. "Ah accepted you, suh," Ezra hissed down at him. "In spite of the fact that it was 'upright Union men' of your race that murdered mah family, ah accepted you and rode beside you for two years. You have repaid my friendship with endless slurs on mah character that culminated in this current atrocity, and it will be some time before ah am able to hear your apology without needin' to resort to either violence or profanity. Until that time, howevah, ah shall endeavor to put my feelin's aside in the interest of our workin' relationship – and ah shall expect you to do the same."

And with that he spun on his heel and walked back to the table the other five lawmen were sitting at, dropped down in a chair and poured himself a drink. Making a visible – and surprisingly successful – effort to regain his composure, he forced a smile and raised his glass. "Gentlemen, I believe we are celebratin' my imminent return to marital bliss?"

Buck raised his glass, grinning widely. "To luckiest man on earth," he toasted.

"No," Josiah countered, a slow, proud smile crossing his face. "To the luckiest woman on earth – to Juliet."

Six glasses clinked together. "To Juliet."

End of Part Four / On to Part Five

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