The Gambler’s Heart

Part 6

by Setcheti

Disclaimer: Please see disclaimer on the series index page.

Author’s Note: Part 6 contains adult language and situations, please read with discretion if such content disturbs you.

---

Eight men rode out of Four Corners united in purpose to save one woman; Vin led the pack, following the trail with skill and speed that frankly amazed the two secret service agents riding behind himself and Larabee. Josiah and Ezra came next, the older man watching the younger carefully, and Buck and JD brought up the rear, their attention also focused on the Southerner. Ezra was oblivious to the scrutiny, lost in his own private hell.

Almost forty-five minutes into the chase, Vin pulled up sharply and almost threw himself off Peso's back. Chris motioned the other six riders to stay mounted. "Vin?"

"Another struggle," the tracker said worriedly. "Looks like she slipped off the back of the horse, tried to run away – in her stockin' feet, no less, they must've took her shoes." He was following the track away from the main trail as he spoke; some twenty yards away he froze, dropping to one knee. "Chris!"

Larabee hurried to his side. "What?"

Vin held up a handful of brown rags, using his body to keep the other men from seeing his find. "Looks like they done found a better way to keep her from runnin'," he said in a tight, hard voice, his blue eyes cold as they read the sign in front of him. "She was fightin' like a damn wildcat, took two of 'em to hold her while the third…" He threw the remains of Juliet's brown dress back down in the dirt with a snarl and stood up. "God damned animals."

"I don't see any blood." Larabee's voice was a hiss, his eyes dark with fury. "Did they…"

"Not that I can see," Vin answered quickly. "Ain't no sign…and there would be, them were some pretty big guys." His own voice was bleak. "Looks like they was just tryin' to keep her from runnin' again; I'd say this time it'll work." He nudged the rags with his boot. "I don't think Ez needs to see this, Chris."

"Nope, he don't," Chris agreed through clenched teeth. He spun around and stalked back to his horse, swinging up into the saddle without looking at anyone; Vin did the same. "Let's ride; we need to catch up to these bastards quick."

The rawness of his voice brought Ezra's head up with a snap; suspicious green eyes went from the gunslinger to the tracker and then the gambler was off Orpheus’ back and racing to the spot the two had just investigated before anyone could stop him. He stood for a moment, staring down at the ground, and then dropped to his knees in the dirt with one hand covering his mouth. Vin cursed softly and made to go after him, but Chris stopped him with a tight shake of his head. No one else moved. They saw the gambler gather up something from the dusty ground before staggering back to his feet; he took one last, hard look at the ground and then strode back to the waiting men. Clutching the rags against his chest, his expressionless face as white as alabaster, he shot one meaningful look at the tracker; Vin shook his head and Ezra nodded once, then re-mounted his horse and waited, staring straight ahead. Without another word, they took up the trail again.

The sun was just beginning its graceful dip toward the horizon when they caught up with their quarry. Concealing their horses far enough away so as not to be heard, the eight men got as close as they could to the dusty depression where the kidnappers had stopped and took in the situation from behind a rocky ridge. There were, just as they'd thought, five outlaws – and two of them were the Baxter sisters. And then there was Juliet…

Buck and Josiah, luckily, had been ready; Ezra was flat on his back on the ground with his arms pinned up and away from his guns and the preacher's big hand clamped over his mouth before he'd done much more than think about leaping over the ridge with a gun in each hand and a Rebel yell on his lips. Chris leaned over the restrained Southerner and forced his eyes up with a firm hand on his forehead; those emerald eyes held a cold, hard glitter that the gunslinger recognized from his own mirror in years past, and he knew he was getting a glimpse of the monster Ezra's first wife had so feared. "Ezra," he said quietly but firmly. "Listen to me, that ain't the way; you go runnin' down there and you're gonna get her killed and most likely yourself too, you understand me?"

After a moment of tense hesitation, the cold glitter faded and reason returned to the emerald eyes; the gambler relaxed and nodded slightly. Buck and Josiah released him and he sat upright, rubbing his wrists. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said, not really looking at anybody. "It won't happen again."

"Wouldn't blame ya if it did," Buck told him. "An' we'll be ready if it does." Ezra nodded again, clapping the taller man on the arm as they turned back to the ridge.

Even dressed in marginally more appropriate boys' clothing, the two Baxter sisters still managed to look violently out of place – it wasn't apparent how, but they did. They appeared to be conferring about something only they could see, and several times they checked the position of the sun from different vantage points around the area of their camp. Finally, a conclusion seemed to be reached; Catie Baxter raised her voice, the shrill sound of it carrying clearly in the still air. "All right, we need to get ready; it could happen anytime after the next ten minutes, and we can't afford to miss the window. Hayes, get her up off the ground – and I want the little bitch up on her toes this time so she can't kick."

Juliet was huddled at the foot of a nearly leafless drought-ravaged tree, curled in on herself with her long black hair draped around her like a ragged veil, flashes of white skin showing between the tangled strands. Her hands were bound with her wrists together and the end of the rough, dirty rope trailed carelessly away across the dusty ground. The largest outlaw ambled over and gathered up the rope, tossing it over a convenient branch. "Up ya go, girl," he said, giving the free end of the rope a sharp yank that pulled Juliet's bound arms up over her head. Eight men gasped…and then sighed with relief; there wasn't enough of what she was still wearing to be proper underclothing, but the pale pink cloth it was made of did manage to cover the necessities – just barely. The outlaw gave another tug at the rope and ordered, "Come on, on yer feet. Don't be makin' me do all the work…"

He wasn't prepared for her to yank back; the rope came out of his hands and Juliet spilled backwards in a tangle, trying to pull the length of the rope down off the branch. The outlaw caught it before she could and looped it around his thick wrist before giving a vicious tug that jerked her off the ground and toward him. "Ya wanna play rough, huh?" he leered, grabbing a handful of black hair and forcing her face close to his. "I had time, I'd show you rough, little girl – and I promise ya'd like it."

Juliet spit on him. The sound of the resulting slap echoed like a gunshot against the rocks, and behind the ridge Buck and Josiah decided just to keep Ezra on the ground for a while.

Catie stepped in before Hayes could draw back his hand to hit the small woman a second time. "Enough," she said, sounding bored. "Just get the damn rope tied off, Hayes, and keep your fantasies about doing little girls to yourself – I swear, you guys are more fucking trouble than you're worth." The grumbling outlaw gave the rope another yank and Juliet squeaked as her feet all but left the ground. "Now that sounds more like it!" Catie laughed. "Who ever would've thought a frigid little nothing like you would have given us so much trouble, hmm? If we didn't need your precious little cherry intact to make this work, I might just be tempted to give you to Hayes and his buddy over there just to listen to you squeal when they pop it – but I doubt even they'll want you after watching me cut your heart out."

Juliet pulled against the ropes again, but couldn't get enough leverage to accomplish anything more than further tearing the skin on her wrists. "Ezra will come for me," she said. "He won't let you…"

"That gambler won't be doin' anything," Rissa interrupted, wandering over to stand next to Catie. "We know all about him, we watched the damn show back home before we came here; even if he did want your virgin little ass bad enough to track us down, ain't none of those other gunslingers he works with gonna stir one step for a two-bit lyin' thief like him 'less they need him for somethin' – an' he's too gutless to come by himself."

"Yeah, even his own mother disrespects him," Catie snickered. "Always looked to me like she was damned embarrassed to have a son too soft an' stupid to follow in her footsteps."

Juliet's face flushed and she drew herself up as much as her position allowed, absolutely radiating contempt. "You obviously don't know as much as you think," she spat back at them. "Maybe you shouldn't believe everything you see on television; my Ezra is a good man, brave and smart, and the men he rides with are like his family. You may kill me, but they will hunt you down like the animals you are!"

The two girls and the listening outlaws responded with raucous laughter. "Well, you got one thing right at lease; we are goin' to kill you!" Rissa chortled. She pulled a knife out of her belt and held it up for Juliet to see before running it lightly down one paling cheek to tap against the center of her chest, smirking when the small woman flinched away from the cold metal. "Aw, Catie, I think she's afraid to get cut!"

Catie smiled, plucking the knife out of Rissa's hand and testing the edge of the blade with an unpleasant smile. "Probably never been cut before," she said thoughtfully. "I've heard the anticipation is the worst…" Without warning, the blade flicked out and its point drew a thin red line across the white skin; Juliet shrieked, jerking violently against the rope, and Catie patted her cheek and crooned, "There ya go, no more anticipation – now you can't say I never did nothin' for you, huh?"

Back of the ridge, Vin was sighting down the barrel of his rifle. "Whatever it is they're waitin' for, Cowboy, I ain't too sure they're gonna wait much longer."

"Nope." Chris pulled back from his position and gestured to West; the secret service agent nodded and he and Gordon began making their way around the north side of the rocks. Another gesture, and Buck and JD began the same procedure on the south side. He then turned his attention to his other two men. "Josiah?"

The preacher had let the gambler up when they'd heard Juliet shriek, but was still maintaining a tight hold on his arm just in case; both men were staring down over the ridge. "Something's happening, Chris; see that shimmer? I think whatever gate they used to get here might be about to open again."

Larabee squinted down into the camp and saw what Josiah was talking about, a slight wavering in the air reminiscent of heat rising off the desert floor on a summer day. He shook his head, dismissing it. "Ezra, you with us?"

The gambler's Remington appeared in his hand with startling speed. "Ah'm ready," he growled.

Chris shared a look with Josiah over Ezra's head and then turned back to Vin. "Ready?" At the sharpshooter's nod he drew his own gun, took one more good look at the scene below and then jumped out of concealment and fired into the air. "All right, everyone freeze!"

For one startled instant, everyone did; then, with a scream of pure rage, Catie spun back around with the knife raised high just as Vin's rifle roared from the rocks beside Chris. The rope looped over the branch split as the bullet hit it and Juliet tumbled back to the ground, out of her reach. Bullets began to fly in all directions as the lawmen traded gunfire with the outlaws and both Baxter sisters dove for cover, cursing.

The shimmer intensified and a line of light like a crack in a china plate slowly began to form. Rissa clutched the knife that Catie had shoved back into her hand and peered cautiously around the listing tree trunk before darting back out to try to complete the sacrifice before it was too late. Juliet had curled into a defensive ball on the hard ground, arms protectively over her head; Rissa grabbed the rope around her wrists and yanked the small woman over onto her back, pinning her bound arms above her head and lifting the knife. "I am not going back!" she screamed at the struggling woman. "We brought you here to seal the gate and that's what you're going to…!" JD's bullet took her right below the collarbone, effectively stopping the knife's downward plunge as the force of the shot threw the girl backwards…into the widening crack.

The ground shuddered and there was a roar like that of a tornado. Ezra was already racing across the body-littered ground, only hesitating when he reached the sprawled body of Hayes, the large outlaw he vaguely remembered from the alley. He knew without a doubt that he had also been the one that had...it was all the normally controlled gambler could do not to spit on the man's corpse as he jumped over it. Juliet was already trying to scramble up and away from the now roaring crack, the hard wind that appeared to be blowing into it tugging at her dark hair. Ezra pulled her to her feet and tight against his chest, trying to put himself between her and whatever was happening, feeling the tug intensify even as he braced himself against it. The roar grew almost deafening, and he was peripherally aware of the other men drawing in close, ready to help if necessary.

Suddenly, there was silence; the wind died with a hiss. A rip opened in the fabric of reality, not a neat portal but a jagged, gaping tear, and that tear looked out on a vast, dirty city that sprawled in all directions under a brown-tinged sky. Massive buildings clustered together at its center, hundreds if not thousands of windows reflecting the orange light of the setting sun and the ragged teeth of the Rocky Mountains. Long gray roads covered with impossibly small and speeding vehicles covered almost every inch of ground not occupied by buildings, occasionally even rising up into the air to twist back around on themselves in great sweeping knots. Something small and metal and most improbably airborne flew insect-like over one of the most congested roads for a short way, circled twice around the largest knot, and then hovered for a moment over a cluster of flashing red and blue lights before darting off towards the far side of the city.

Juliet had taken one look at the open rift and then buried her face against Ezra's silk-embroidered waistcoat; the gambler tightened his arms around her shaking body and stared at the world she'd come to him from. "Denver?" he asked softly. A nod against his chest. "Good lord, what a terrible place."

"Amen to that, son," Josiah breathed. "No wonder they didn't want to go back. Look at that sky – what is that in the air?"

"Pollution, I believe," Artemus said disbelievingly. "But I've never seen it so thick – not even in New York."

"Don't see how anyone could live there," Vin muttered, scowling. "It's unnatural, that's what it is."

"I'll say," West agreed thoughtfully. "Easy to see how the Baxter sisters could happen in a place like that, though."

The edges of the rift trembled…and then slammed inward with a hard hollow pop that shook the ground again and had everyone fumbling for their balance. The four nearest sets of hands reached out to steady Ezra and Juliet, then suddenly realized they were touching bare skin and drew back abruptly; Chris got his coat off first and draped it around the small woman's shoulders. "Okay, let's comb the area, make sure we got 'em all," he ordered, turning to face the other men – and neatly blocking their view. "But don't anyone stray to far away followin' tracks, there could be more of 'em than what we saw already."

The men scattered, leaving Ezra to help Juliet shrug into Chris's duster in relative privacy. Vin and Buck found the outlaws' horses some distance away among the rocks and were beginning to string them together to lead back to their own camp when Vin, scanning the ground for sign, suddenly came upon a set of footprints that made his eyes narrow; tracks of small, bare feet, marked with dark sticky liquid. The tracker's sharp intake of breath brought Buck to his side; one look and the ladies' man swore and hurried back to the clearing, sweeping a very surprised Juliet off her feet with no warning whatsoever. "The difference between stubborn and stupid," he told her, using the same exasperated tone he usually reserved for JD, "is that red spot on the ground where you were just standin'."

Ezra looked at the ground and paled, then circled around Buck to gingerly lift one of his fiancée’s dangling bare feet; Josiah joined him, and both men just stared for a moment before glaring at Juliet…who cringed. "It can't be that bad," she ventured timidly. "It doesn't really hurt that much."

"No, not yet it doesn't," Josiah observed grimly. He walked back around Buck and reached for the small hand that was gripping the front of the cowboy's shirt, stopping abruptly when Juliet flinched away from him in spite of herself. "Oh, Little Sister," he said softly, the anger fading from his face. "We ain't angry at you, honey; we're angry none of us remembered you might be hurt." He ran a careful finger along the purpling bruise swelling on her pale cheek and then drew back the overlong sleeve of the black duster to reveal the raw, rope-torn skin on her wrist. Shaking his head, the preacher reached out and very gently pulled the small woman into his own arms. "You'd best go tell Chris, Buck – we won't be ridin' out of here tonight, not now."

Juliet frowned up at him. "I feel fine, I could ride…"

"You won't be sayin' that an hour from now, darlin'," Ezra contradicted quietly, already dreading what was to come. "And ah dare say the horses could use a rest; we rode them hard through the day's heat, gettin' here." He saw the look on her face and shook his head. "If you are even considerin' apologizin' for any part of this situation, Juliet…"

"But ah should have…"

"Done what?! What more could you possibly have done, Juliet, against five armed outlaws?!" She cringed again, and Ezra mentally kicked himself. He took her face in his hands and looked directly into her eyes. "Now you listen to me," he said in a softer, but equally intense voice. "You fought them every inch of the way, we could see it – and you were still fightin' when we got here! Darlin' no one, nowhere could possibly ask more of you."

"And anyone that says different will answer to us," Josiah rumbled. "Ezra, you run on ahead to the horses, get what we'll need out of the saddlebags; I'll get Miss Julie settled and get a fire started, we need to take care of this quick as possible before infection settles in."

Gordon and West reappeared from their scouting while Josiah and Ezra were still rooting around for supplies, and between the four of them they soon had a comfortable camp set up and everything they might need close to hand. They had forbidden Juliet to move from the spot they'd placed her in, and so she sat there watching the preparations with growing apprehension, shifting around uncomfortably but not making a sound.

Finally, when they couldn't delay any longer, Ezra came back to the shaded spot beside a rounded outcropping of rock where he'd arranged his bedroll and sat down beside his fiancée. "They hurt now, don't they?" he asked quietly. His answer was another shift and a tight little nod; she obviously didn't trust her voice. Ezra sighed and reached into his jacket, pulling out his silver flask and uncapping it. "This is not the most effective analgesic, but it should help," he explained, handing her the flask. Juliet took it and sniffed cautiously, then made a face, wrinkling up her nose, before handing it back to him and shaking her head. Ezra sighed again. Ah should have guessed, he thought ruefully, recapping the flask and setting it aside. What ah would not give for a bottle of laudanum right now…

Josiah was thinking the same thing, fingering the small silver forceps that West had had in his kit as he looked at the swollen, lacerated skin on the soles of Juliet's feet, seeing the cactus spines and jagged splinters that had become deeply embedded in the tender flesh and knowing that if they couldn't be extracted intact he was going to have to cut them out. Oddly enough, that thought made him even more glad that Larabee had forced the healer to stay behind; his hands might not be as sure or as steady as Nathan's, but the preacher was certain in his own mind that the shaken, frightened young woman trying so hard to be brave and strong should not be touched for a while by anyone who didn't truly care for her. He took a deep breath and carefully picked up one dainty foot, feeling the heat of a burgeoning infection already radiating off of it. "Are you ready, Little Sister?"

Juliet swallowed hard and nodded, her hands gripping into the blanket she was sitting on, her indigo eyes dilated to black pools by the fear and pain she was trying not to give in to. Ezra moved himself behind her, and Josiah had to smile as he watched the gambler's hands insinuate themselves over the top of Juliet's and grip reassuringly. "We're ready," he said.

Gordon brought hot water from the fire and the two of them washed the packed dirt from the cuts and began pulling out the splinters; it was a laborious process, and by the time they had done all they could do everyone but Vin had come back from scouting the area and the lengthening shadows were beginning to merge into larger pools of coming night. Chris and JD lit every lantern they had with them to make more light for Josiah and Buck was grimly, unhappily honing his pocketknife to razor sharpness; five of the slender, needle-sharp spines were going to have to come out the hard way.

Ezra took out his flask again and handed it to Gordon before pulling his fiancée’s tense, trembling form into his lap, holding her tightly while the secret service agent forced her to take a mouthful of bourbon. The burning liquid made her cough and choke, but they both felt some of the tension leave her muscles and her tight-shut indigo eyes fluttered open to blink at the gambler in shock. "Bettah?" he asked softly.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder, closing her eyes again. "B-burns."

"Ah know." He began to stroke her hair soothingly while he watched his friends make the necessary preparations, suppressing a shudder of his own when Buck tested the newly-sharpened knife on a piece of leather before handing it to Josiah.

Gordon saw the shudder and patted the younger man's shoulder before returning to his place at the preacher's side. He wrapped a strong hand around Juliet's ankle and used the other to hold the already twitching foot still. "Juliet, we'll be as quick as we can, all right?" No answer, but Ezra nodded and pulled her in a little closer to his chest. Josiah closed his mind to everything but the task at hand and brought the blade down against the swollen skin that marked the hiding place of the first embedded spine.

Juliet never made a sound; her face stayed buried in Ezra's shoulder, her hands clenched in the fabric of his jacket. Ezra kept his arms tight around her, murmuring soft reassurances against her hair, his expression strained. When Josiah reached for the bottle of whiskey he stiffened and wrapped his hand over the top of hers, squeezing reassuringly. "Almost over," he whispered. "It's almost over, darlin', ah promise." No response; Josiah imagined it was taking everything she had to remain silent and still. He took a deep breath and tipped the bottle so that the amber liquid flowed across the already festering raw wounds.

The high-pitched keening moan that was torn from Juliet's throat brought the men sitting around the fire halfway to their feet and drained all the color from Ezra's face; the young woman shuddered once and went limp, and the gambler dropped his face into the soft tangles of her hair with what sounded suspiciously like a sob. Josiah swallowed hard and doggedly kept working, cleaning the wounds as thoroughly as he was able and then wrapping the small feet in soft bandages before pulling a pair socks scavenged from Ezra's saddlebags over all for added protection. Then he moved on to clean and wrap the raw, torn wrists, thanking god that none of the tears were deep enough to need stitching. "I think they'll heal without scars," he said, laying the limp little hand in Juliet's lap, smiling when Ezra immediately picked it back up. "She'll be fine, son. Walkin' won't be to pleasant for a few days…"

"Then ah'll make certain she does not do it." Ezra used his free hand to brush hair away from Juliet's pale, tear-streaked face, his fingers skirting the bruise on her cheek. "Ah think there's been enough unpleasantness for Juliet lately, don't you?"

"Yep," Josiah agreed with a sigh. "Think there's been more than enough, but it's all over now…"

"We hope," the gambler contradicted unhappily. "Ah noticed that Catie Baxter is not among the dead; ah certainly hope that does not mean..."

"She got away," Vin confirmed grimly, striding into the camp. "Must've slipped by when that rip opened up an' we was all distracted, got one of the horses and rode hell-bent for leather." He squatted down beside Ezra and pushed back his hat, running one hand through his sweat-damp hair. "I'm sorry, Ez, it's already gettin' too dark to track her." His gaze drifted to Juliet, pale and still in the gambler's arms. "She gonna be okay?"

"Should be," Josiah answered for him. "Just took a good bit out of her, gettin' those feet cleaned up."

"What about that other cut?" Both men just looked at him, and Vin shook his head. "Oh that's right, you two were…um, doin' somethin' else when that Catie cut her. It's right…" He reached for the neck of the black duster and then thought better of it, pulling his hand back. "Uh, Ez, maybe you better check this one."

Ezra fumbled with the buttons and pushed aside the heavy fabric…and grimaced. Fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket, he handed it to Josiah. "Soak that with whiskey, please," he requested. "It isn't too deep, but it's more than a scratch and it needs to be tended to."

The preacher frowned. "You want me to take a look, son?"

"No, that won't be necessary." Taking back the handkerchief, Ezra pressed it carefully over the shallow slice, feeling the fluttering heartbeat under his fingertips. "Right over her heart," he murmured, more to himself than to the others. He touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, letting the faint rhythm reassure him as he fought back the tears of relief that wanted to fall. "Right over her heart."

They rode out the next morning just after dawn, leading two riderless horses and three more carrying a burden of blanket-wrapped dead outlaw and keeping a sharp watch on the surrounding countryside. Juliet rode sidesaddle in front of Ezra and drifted in and out of sleep for most of the journey home, looking small, pale and fragile in the oversized black duster; Josiah and Gordon took turns dropping back to check on her periodically, waking her enough each time to drink water from their canteens to stave off the light fever that was worrying Ezra more than he wanted to admit. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they finally rode into Four Corners early that afternoon.

Ezra reigned Orpheus in right in front of the dry goods store and then kicked himself off the horse's back with Juliet still held firmly in his arms, a procedure which startled a surprised squeal from the young woman. The squeal brought Mrs. Potter out of the store in an instant. "Julie! Mr. Standish, is she…"

"Ah'm fine, Mrs. Potter; Ezra, put me down." Juliet tried to wriggle out of his arms and Ezra tightened his hold. "Ezra!"

He looked down at her indignant expression, his mouth set in a stubborn line. "Those feet are not touchin' the ground," he told her firmly. "Not until day after tomorrow at least and definitely not without proper footgear." He stepped up onto the boardwalk and approached the store with obvious purpose. "Mrs. Potter, we need to draw a hot bath and fetch Juliet's nightgown – ah believe Mr. Larabee will be wantin' his coat back…"

"A night…Ezra! Ah am fine, ah do not need to go to…"

Ezra tightened his grip again against another determined wriggle. "Ah realize that you think you're fine," he interrupted. "But you will kindly allow the rest of us to reassure ourselves on that point, as we have spent varying parts of the past twenty-four hours worryin' that you might be dead or worse – and you yourself have been injured and are runnin' a temperature." She opened her mouth to argue and he stopped the words by capturing her lips with a passionate kiss, not pulling back until he felt the last of her resistance melt away in his arms. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "You are goin' to bed."

Indigo eyes looked dazedly up into determined emerald ones, then fluttered closed as Juliet dropped her head against his shoulder with a dreamily contented sigh. "J'sus parti au lit."

Nathan approached the other men in the saloon shortly after their return, not entirely sure of his welcome. Chris raised an eyebrow at him. "Anything happen while we were gone?"

"Nope, it was quiet." The healer pulled out a chair and sat down. "You find out what was goin' on when you caught up with them outlaws?"

"Shore did," Vin answered.

Nathan waited, but no further explanation was forthcoming. "I only seen three bodies, what happened to the Baxter sisters?"

Buck took a drink and slapped JD on the shoulder. "The kid here shot Rissa, kept her from killin' Miss Julie, but Catie got away – if she's smart, she won't stop ridin' till she's in Mexico."

Chris scowled at that. "I ain't sure she's smart."

"I'm not sure either," West agreed slowly, sharing a troubled look with his partner. "The gate is closed now, I think, but it wouldn't surprise me if she came back for revenge."

"Heaven help her, then," Josiah rumbled, remembering the wounded-animal sound Juliet had made the night before when the raw whiskey poured over the cuts on her feet – some of them cuts he'd had to make. The expressions on the other men's faces told him he wasn't the only one who remembered. "All I can say is, I don't know how long I can remember I'm a lawman if we ever catch her around these parts again."

"What about rememberin' you're a man of God?" Buck teased. "'Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord' and all that?"

The big preacher placidly sipped his whiskey. "He also said, 'an eye for an eye', Brother – and I ain't never known the Lord to demand penance for killin' snakes."

"Amen to that, Preacher," Vin agreed. "Lord might frown on skinnin' 'em alive, though – we'd best hope Ez don't never find her."

Nathan held back his snort, not thinking it would go over very well. "So that Baxter girl took her sister's body? Or did you all bury it?"

The men looked at each other. "It fell through the gate," Chris said quietly. "Don't know what happened to it after that – don't rightly care, either."

"And we're not going to discuss it in the middle of a busy saloon," Artemus told the healer firmly. "All that anyone needs to know is that we killed all but one of the outlaws and Juliet is safe and…well, she's safe."

Nathan jumped on the slip. "She got hurt?"

Chris grimaced and shot Gordon an irritated look; he pointedly did not look at Nathan. "She'll be fine – be back on her feet in a couple of days. Nothin' to worry about."

"Back on her…the girl can't walk and you say it's nothin' to worry about!" The healer was already halfway out of his seat. "Why the hell didn't you all override that damn stubborn Southerner and bring her to the clinic?"

Josiah's large hand pushed him back down into his chair. "She's a woman, not a girl, and there wasn't nothin' to override; Miss Julie's been taken care of and she's gonna be just fine. Ezra and Mrs. Potter'll let us know if they need anything."

Nathan's jaw set, remembering the last time Josiah had told him that, the last time that large hand had held him back. "Was it Ezra took care of her this time, too?" he spat.

Buck's glass came down on the scarred tabletop just a little harder than it needed to. "Would it matter if it was, Nate?"

"He ain't no doctor!"

"Neither are you." Larabee's icy growl effectively froze four men who were about to go off like gunpowder under a match – a match named Nathan Jackson. "Forget again, Jackson?"

The healer flinched. "Ain't no call to be bringin' that up," he said in a low voice. "I made a mistake that time with Miss Maude an' her hotel, an' I done apologized for it; ain't no call to be rubbin' my nose in it…"

"Why not? You do it to Ez," Vin commented, tossing back the rest of his whiskey. He stood up. "Reckon I better get on over to the jail, take a look at them wanted posters to see if those guys we brought in was on any of 'em."

"I'll go with ya, Vin," JD said, draining his glass as well. "It'll go quicker if both of us work at it, there's an awful lot of posters to go through." The tracker grinned and clapped the young sheriff on the shoulder, and the two men left together.

"I think you're forgettin' somethin' else, Nathan," Josiah rumbled once they were gone. "Only real city boy in this outfit is JD – and even he's comin' right along. Ain't a man here that hasn't done his bit of doctorin' beside the trail a time or two, and we're all still alive to tell the tale." His faded blue eyes lifted. "And it was me that took care of our little sister's injuries, with some help from everyone else. Still got a problem with it?"

Nathan looked away from his friend's level gaze. "Course I don't," he sighed. "It's just got to be a habit, I guess, bein' the one to handle things when someone gets hurt."

"Ain't a bad habit," Chris observed judiciously, refilling his glass and then settling back in his chair. "You're a damn fine healer, Nathan – you just aren't what Miss Julie needs right now."

Nathan relaxed a little; maybe that chasm would eventually get bridged after all. "She's okay?"

"Told you she was already," Josiah said. He smiled slightly. "I am wonderin' how long Ezra can keep her off those feet, though – our little sister doesn't like being idle."

Ezra had known that…but at the moment he had other concerns. He had watched the store for Mrs. Potter while she helped Juliet to get cleaned up, abandoning his post behind the counter as soon as his fiancée was dressed in her nightgown so he could carry her up to her room. She had balked at being carried at first, but after her first attempt to put her bare feet on the floor and stand Ezra was able to scoop her up without a single protest – she was in far too much pain to complain. Climbing the stairs and entering Juliet's bedroom, he carefully lowered her onto her bed and took a good look at her, not liking what he saw; her renewed pallor had served to highlight the faint blush of fever that spotted her cheeks, and the pain-narrowed indigo eyes looking up at him were just a trifle glassy. A glance at Mrs. Potter showed that she had seen it too. "What should we do first, Mr. Standish?" the older woman asked, her slight emphasis on the pronoun letting him know that she had no intention of calling for the town's resident healer.

Ezra smiled at her. "If I might have Cedric and Cecily fetch and carry for me, I had thought to ask you if you would mind lettin' Josiah know we'll be needin' some of that horrid black tea Mr. Jackson makes as well as a modicum of carbolic acid. I believe the children and I can have everything else we'll require assembled by the time you return."

Gloria smiled back at him, knowing he was sending her instead of one of the children so he could be sure that Nathan wouldn't insist on coming with the needed supplies. "I don't mind at all, Mr. Standish; I'll send the children up on my way out."

She quickly headed out of the small room and down the stairs, and Ezra turned back to Juliet – who was pushing herself upright against the bed's headboard. Ezra quickly adjusted the pillow behind her, frowning. "You're just goin' to be layin' down again…"

"Only if ah have to." The pain was starting to fade again, and she sighed with relief as she settled back against the soft pillow. "Ezra, ah'm fine," she insisted softly. "My feet hurt, but they'll get bettah."

His frown didn't go away. "You're runnin' a fever, darlin'; you're not as fine as you think."

Juliet gave him an odd look and put a hand up to her forehead. Then she shook her head and laughed. "Ezra, ah've gone to school sicker than this – to work, too. This little bit of fever isn't enough even to worry about."

The gambler's mouth dropped open. "Little bit of…Juliet, how can you say that?! That 'little bit of fever' means infection has set in somewhere…" His voice trailed off; she was looking at him like she had no idea why he was so upset…and he suddenly realized that she didn't. The words on the back of her 'drivers license' came back to him – organ donor – and the reality of the vast difference between their two worlds hit Ezra like a bolt of lightning, settling in in a way it hadn't when she was just telling them about it. To someone who takes replacement of a damaged heart or reattachment of a severed limb for granted, what would fever and infection mean? It would mean you take a pill and get on with your day…

…Because the world won't stop for you. Probably, it won't even slow down.

But this wasn't that world. Ezra stroked a tendril of damp hair away from her flushed cheek, wondering how to make her understand. His epiphany came when Ceddy and Cissy came bouncing up the stairs and poked their heads into the room, and he waved them in the rest of the way with a serious expression. "Children, ah need your help."

"Mama said we were supposed to help you," Cissy said solemnly.

"Fetchin' and carryin'," Cedric confirmed.

"Yes, ah will need your help with that," Ezra agreed. "But first, ah need a second medical opinion – and ah believe the two of you are old enough to give it to me." He had to smile at the way the twins puffed up with pride at his words. "Now, why don't you come over here and tell me if you think Juliet is sick or not – just don't touch her feet, you don't want to hurt her."

He received two outraged looks for the suggestion and then the children went to work. First they looked at the soles of Juliet's feet, careful not to touch but each holding a hand close before conferring in whispers about it. Then the two of them went to the head of the bed to look at the bruise on her cheek; Cissy touched it gently and then leaned forward to kiss it. "Mama always gives me a kiss when I get hurt," she told Juliet seriously. "She says love makes it better."

Juliet pulled the little girl into a tight hug. "Mama's right, Cissy," she whispered. "It feels better already, thank you."

"Cissy!" Cedric had just discovered the rope burns and torn skin on Juliet's wrists. He tugged his sister out of the young woman's embrace and they captured one hand at a time to assess the damage, frowning unhappily. "Does it hurt?" the little boy wanted to know.

Juliet shook her head. "Not very much, Ceddy."

He cocked his head at her. "That means yes, right?"

"Yes, it does," Ezra said helpfully. Juliet made a face at him, and he hid a grin. "So, do you have an opinion for me? Is she sick?"

The twins looked at each other. Cissy moved close to Juliet again and looked hard into her eyes, then reached out a small hand to touch her forehead. She nodded at her brother, who traded places with her and did the same thing. He gave Juliet a very careful hug when he was done. "Aw, Miss Julie, don't worry; we'll take really good care of you until you're all better."

"I'll bring you flowers every day," Cissy vowed with equal seriousness. "Mr. Ezra, you and Mama can make her better, can't you?"

"Yes," Ezra assured her. "We'll make her all bettah – and ah know you'll both help us. Now, why don't you go fetch somethin' soft we can use for bandages and the ointment your mother uses on your scrapes; Cedric, I need you to get some hot water and some clean rags, all right?" The two children hurried off immediately, leaving him alone with his puzzled fiancée. "Darlin'?"

She cocked her head at him, plainly confused. "Ah don't understand why you're all so worried, Ezra; it's just a little fever…"

"Ah know." He put one hand on her slender shoulder and brushed the other across her forehead and down her cheek, smiling when she leaned into the caress. "Ah know that where you're from an infection is apparently nothin' to get excited about, but here it can be the death of a person if not carefully attended to – and ah intend to attend to it very carefully, cherie, very carefully indeed. Do you understand now?" Wide-eyed, she nodded, and Ezra leaned in to steal a kiss before pulling back again and snagging Juliet's hairbrush off the small table by her bed. "Good. Now sit forward and let me indulge mahself tendin' to those beautiful tresses of yours until the children get back, and then we'll see to those rope burns…"

The four peacekeepers and two secret service agents were still sitting around the table in the saloon when someone from outside came in to tell Josiah that Mrs. Potter wanted to speak with him; the preacher quickly got up and went out to her, returning moments later but not resuming his seat. "Told ya they'd let us know if they needed anything," he said. "Nathan, could you…"

The healer was already on his feet. "I'll just go get my bag…"

"Whoa, Brother," Josiah rumbled. "Gettin' ahead of yourself, there; they wanted some carbolic and some of your 'horrid black tea', as Ezra calls it. Didn't say nothin' about needin' an extra set of hands." Nathan just stared at him, and Josiah decided to put it plainly. "You're not comin' with me, Nate."

"That tea is the strongest medicine I've got for fever and pain," was the slow response. The healer's brown eyes didn't look away from Josiah's this time. "Infection ain't nothin' to mess with, Josiah."

"Never said it was." The preacher didn't break eye contact either. "Now do you want to come measure out that tea for me, make sure we get the dose just right?"

Nathan took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest. "You ain't gettin' it unless I get to come up there to see what's goin' on. I'll let ya have the carbolic, but not the tea." A small, smug smile crept across his face. "'Course, you don't have to have that tea; ya'll can just listen to her scream while you do whatever it is your doin'."

It took Nathan only seconds to realize that the 'suggestion' had been a mistake – as had the smile that accompanied it. As one, the men at the table rose to their feet and silence fell over the saloon. It was Buck who spoke first. "And you wonder why we won't let you anywhere near Miss Julie," he said disgustedly. "Can't believe I was startin' to think maybe we should let you take a look at her later." He shook his head and stalked away. "I'll be at the jail."

"Hold up, Buck; I'll go with you." West's eyes were grave. "Artie, you familiar with this 'horrid black tea'?"

Gordon nodded slowly. "Not by that name, but I believe I'd be familiar with the ingredients – enough to determine the proper dosage for a woman Juliet's size. If you could take me to it, Josiah, I'll help you get what's needed." He gave Nathan a dark look when he saw the healer start to object. "Mr. Jackson, I am certain your callous 'threat' was simply a poorly conceived ploy to get you in to see my niece…but you are an absolute fool if you think we would even chance such a slip happening in her presence when she is doubtless still traumatized by recent events."

Nathan muttered something under his breath and Gordon, who had been turning away, spun back around with the speed of a striking snake. "Repeat that so everyone can hear it, Mr. Jackson," he ordered.

West had come back to his partner's side and had his hand on his gun; he hadn't heard Artemus use that tone of voice since the last time he'd impersonated an officer – he had a feeling it was the voice he'd used in the war to command his men, but Artemus Gordon didn't talk about the war, not even with him. "Artie?"

Gordon didn't move. "Now, Mr. Jackson."

Nathan had involuntarily straightened almost to attention – as had half the other men in the saloon. "I just said that some folks ain't cut out to live out here," he said. "Ain't nothin' against Miss Julie, but you gotta be tough to make it in the West."

Gordon stared at him for a moment and then threw back his head with a bark of laughter; West joined him, and after a moment so did the other three lawmen. "Oh, Nate, that was a good one," Buck chortled. "I think you're funnier than JD sometimes!"

The healer-and most of the saloon's other patrons-were staring at them in complete confusion, so Josiah reigned in his bitter amusement and lifted a large hand for quiet. "All right, maybe we'd best straighten this out right here and now so it don't come up again. Nathan, do you know what happened after Miss Julie was kidnapped?" The healer shook his head reluctantly. "That's right, you didn't, so I guess we'd better tell you-tell everyone, I guess, let them know just what kind of woman it is Brother Ezra is taking to wife. Because all of us sure found out yesterday."

Once he saw he had the entire saloon's attention, the preacher cleared his throat and began his story. "Miss Julie was abducted from Four Corners early yesterday morning, in case anyone didn't already know that. The sign found in the alley where it happened showed that the two outlaws who did it were about the size of myself and Brother Buck and that she put up quite a fight before they managed to subdue her. We rode out after them several hours later and found more sign about an hour out of town where she'd apparently jumped off the back of the horse they had her on and tried to escape – in her stocking feet, since they'd taken her shoes to prevent her from running. They ran her down, of course, and then two of them held her while a third removed the rest of her clothing with his knife to keep her from running again."

You could have heard a pin drop in the saloon. "Madre de Dios," Inez whispered, crossing herself. "They didn't…"

"No," Gordon said quickly. "They didn't; they wanted her for a sacrifice, so they couldn't..."

"They needed a virgin sacrifice," Josiah clarified. "When we finally caught up with them, they had her tied up and were getting ready to cut her heart out." Even some of the hardened trailhands drinking at the bar gasped at that one.

"She spit in the face of the man that pulled her up off the ground and then tried to get away again," Buck said admiringly. "Didn't even yell when he hit her. And then she told off those Baxter sisters after they made her mad by talkin' bad about Ez; she told 'em that even if they killed her all of us would hunt 'em down 'like the animals they were'."

"No need, seein' as how all but one of 'em's dead," Chris grunted. "And after last night, I don't lay odds to that one survivin' long if she shows up around here."

"It was Catie Baxter that got away when we rescued Miss Julie," Josiah explained. "Slipped away in the confusion, used her sister as a decoy and got her killed in the process. We didn't realize Miss Julie was hurt until Brother Vin found bloody footprints by the horses, and that's when we found out that the soles of her feet were near cut to ribbons and full of cactus needles to boot. Took her uncle and I quite a while to clean it all up, and then we had to cut out five of the spines that were buried too deep." He shot a dark look at Nathan. "She never made a sound, either – not until I poured whiskey in those cuts to try to stop the infection."

The healer flinched in spite of himself. "I didn't know."

"Nope, you didn't," Buck agreed quietly. "So you should've kept your mouth shut until you did."

Gordon stared at Nathan a moment longer without saying anything and then turned back to Josiah. "We need to go get that tea."

Josiah nodded, and the two men left without another word; no one else moved. Finally Nathan sat back down with a sigh and reached for the bottle sitting on the table. The other three men shared a smile before Buck and West headed for the doors and Chris resumed his seat, and after a few moments of nothing happening the rest of the saloon's patrons turned their attention elsewhere. Chris let the silence drag on for a few moments before breaking it. "Well?"

"Well what?" the healer replied sullenly, staring into his whiskey. The bridge he'd had hopes for had just crumbled again – no, he realized, he'd knocked it down himself. He wondered if Chris was going to tell him to leave town, tell him that they couldn't afford this kind of dissent in their little band of peacekeepers. "What is it you expect me to say? That I'm sorry?"

"Nope." The gunslinger's turquoise eyes studied him thoughtfully. "Ez was right about that the other night; it's too early for an apology. There'll be plenty of time for that later."

Nathan started to take another drink…and froze. Don't ever run out on me again, he heard, whispering out of the past. He lifted stunned eyes to his leader and was surprised to see a small smile soften the hard features before the man in black rose silently to his feet and left the saloon without a backward glance.

Josiah and Artemus found everything they needed fairly quickly in the well-organized clinic. "Nathan ain't a bad man," Josiah rumbled quietly, watching Gordon's experienced hands measure out the herbs that comprised Nathan's bitter fever tea. "And he is a damn fine healer."

"I know." The secret service agent didn't look up from what he was doing. "He was a stretcher-bearer in my regiment – boy had the healing touch." He grimaced. "He also had a damn loud mouth, even then; I'm personally surprised it hasn't gotten him killed yet."

To say that Josiah was shocked was an understatement. "You think he remembers you?"

Gordon snorted. "Apparently not, or we would have heard about it already – not all of those lash marks on his back came from an overseer, you know."

"Regimental discipline? On an escaped slave?"

"He didn't give me much choice." Artemus carefully rolled up the tea in a paper and looked around the clinic. "He's done well for himself and I'm glad, but it looks like my original assessment of him was correct; Nathan Jackson is one of those people who has to learn the hard way that being opinionated doesn't make him right."

The preacher nodded slowly. "That is our stubborn brother's cross to bear, unfortunately; he tends to see things in black and white with no gray in between." He cocked an eyebrow at Gordon. "You know, in Miss Julie's world the way he treats certain folks would be called discrimination."

Artemus chuckled. "Mr. Standish could sue him for it there, too – we'd best not suggest it to him, he might try to get the law passed here just for fun."

Josiah slapped him on the shoulder. "Trust me, Artemus; when that boy of mine turns his attention back to the law he might enjoy it…but he won't be doin' it for fun."

They carefully re-locked the clinic and took their supplies over to the dry-goods store. Mrs. Potter led them into the kitchen and helped Gordon fix a heavily honeyed cup of tea which she then took upstairs. Ezra came down a moment later and dropped into a seat at the kitchen table next to Josiah. "I'm surprised he let you have it; I expected him to insist on coming along with the noxious concoction just on general principles."

"You expected right," Josiah confirmed. "But it didn't do him any good; we left him in the saloon with Chris. How's she doin', son?"

The gambler smiled tiredly. "Still insistin' she's fine, but the children and I did manage to convince her of the need to treat infection seriously." His smile disappeared. "Ah think we may have missed somethin' last night, gentlemen; the lacerations look clean, but there's too much swellin' present for my peace of mind. Perhaps we'd best go back upstairs and see to it." He stood up…too quickly, and the room spun sickeningly around him. He felt Josiah's strong hands push him back down into the hard chair. "Ah'm fine…just stood up too fast."

"Yep," the big preacher agreed-but his hand stayed on Ezra's shoulder. "You also got knocked out yesterday, took a long hard ride in the heat, had a couple of nasty shocks, got involved in a shootout and then followed it all up with a mostly sleepless night and another hard ride – and Miss Julie ain't the only one who hasn't eaten in two days, is she?"

Tired green eyes looked up at him. "To be honest, ah can't remembah."

"I'd be surprised if you could," Gordon commiserated. He placed a steaming cup of tea on the table in front of the Southerner. "That might clear out some of the cobwebs, though."

Ezra picked up the cup and sipped, making a face at the amount of sugar in it but not voicing a complaint. "Much appreciated, Mr. Gordon."

The secret service agent shrugged. "I do this for Jim all the time, he can be very…singleminded." He watched the younger man drink, then casually walked around the table and stopped just beside him…just in time to catch him when he slumped sideways. "Where should we put him, Josiah?"

The preacher closed his mouth, which had fallen open. "Mrs. Potter's sitting room would do, there's a couch in there." He knelt across from Gordon and carefully gathered the limp gambler into his arms. "You do this to your partner all the time, huh?"

Artemus helped steady him as he stood up. "Jim often complains that he falls asleep more quickly at his desk than he does in his bed," he said with a smile. "He blames it on the paperwork; I've never seen fit to tell him about the knockout drops."

Together they settled the now soundly sleeping gambler on the couch and Josiah loosened his collar and covered him with a quilt, running an affectionate hand across the thick brown hair before turning down the lamp and following Gordon back to the kitchen. "How long will it last?"

"Oh, he'll sleep until tomorrow," the agent shrugged. "The drops will only keep a healthy, alert man out for about an hour, but I've found that their initial effect will encourage an exhausted body to get the rest it needs." He saw the questioning look and shook his head. "I wouldn't dare use them on Juliet – she's too small, and an overdose can be deadly. The amount I used on Mr. Standish was the same dosage I've calibrated to use on Jim."

Josiah nodded. "Yeah, they are about the same size, aren't they." Mrs. Potter came back down the stairs at that point and both men turned to her. "Did she drink it?"

Gloria smiled. "Of course – and she was asleep almost before she set the cup down. Where did Mr. Standish get to?"

"Um, about that…" Artemus took her elbow and led her to the sitting room door so she could see the gambler. "My apologies for appropriating your sitting room in this manner, but we decided that he needed his rest, too."

"I'd say he did, poor man," the storekeeper sighed, moving quietly into the room to check on the sleeping man and tucking the quilt in tighter around him before moving back out just as quietly and pulling Gordon away from the door. "Juliet was worrying about him, asked me to try to get him to eat something before he came back up from talking with you. She also wanted someone to go tell Jenny Abbott that she'd be at work tomorrow morning."

The secret service agent made a face. "I should have expected that, I suppose," he said, shaking his head. "Rest assured, Mrs. Potter, that girl is not going anywhere tomorrow – even if we have to tie her to that bed to keep her in it."

"If Ezra was right and we missed a splinter somewhere, that probably won't be necessary," Josiah observed.

Ezra had been right and they'd ended up cutting out a splinter buried deep enough to require stitching, but more than once over the next three days Juliet tried to prove Josiah wrong – it finally took he and Gordon actually bringing a coil of rope into the room to convince her to stop trying to get out of bed to prove she was 'fine'. She had managed to use the argument to get her fiancé to resume his normal patrol schedule, though, telling him quite firmly that to the best of her knowledge no one had ever died of the only thing that was truly wrong with her…boredom. "I don't know what to do with myself," she'd pouted at him. "Mrs. Potter won't even give me back my dress so I can try to fix it…"

"Not enough left to fix, darlin'," had been his strained reply, remembering the horrified look that had crossed the storekeeper's face when she'd seen the slashed and torn remains of the brown dress – and the way his own heat had nearly stopped when he'd seen it lying there in the dust beside the trail. "Ah'm afraid you'll have to have Mrs. Potter locate a suitable replacement – and some proper underclothing while she's at it."

The slightly disparaging tone that had crept into the last comment had made her recoil. "Ah'd wondered why you wouldn't give them back," she'd whispered, mortification evident on her face. "Ah…hate to tell you this, Ezra but…where ah'm from those would be considered modest to the point of insipidity."

It was another lightning bolt – for both of them, apparently. He'd apologized profusely and reassured his worried fiancée…and had then spent most of his day worrying over the problem himself, not sure what he was going to do about it. For one of the few times in his life, Ezra felt completely out of his depth.

Buck had drawn patrol with him that day, and it didn't take the ladies' man long to notice that something was wrong; conversely, it didn't take Ezra more than half a dozen of Buck's blunt attempts to draw him out before he realized that he might just be riding alongside the one man who he could talk with about his problem.

The explanation took a while, and when it was done Buck whistled and shook his head. "Damn, that is a problem," he said. "And I'm sorry to say it, pard, but it's a bigger one than you think; it sounds to me like Miss Julie needs someone to educate her on how to be a modern woman."

Ezra stiffened. "Juliet is every inch a lady."

"Yeah, that she is, and I'd bet she would be no matter where she was," Buck agreed seriously. "But it ain't the same thing, Ez. Bein' a woman is somethin' a girl learns from her mama and sisters and such – and from other girls. She's probably picked up some already from Miz Potter and Miz Abbott, but that ain't gonna be enough." He thought for a while and they rode in silence until he spoke again. "Okay, how's this; I'll have a talk with Inez and Meg, tell 'em that Miss Julie is havin' problems with all this stuff because she had kind of a strange upbringin', and I'll tell 'em that she don't like to talk about it so they won't ask too many questions. Then we'll just let them go over there and handle it the way they want to."

Ezra considered it and then nodded slowly. "Ah believe that would work. And of all the women in town, those are the ones who actually would refrain from pryin' into her past." He sighed. "Ah'll have a talk with Mrs. Potter…"

"Not a good idea," Buck countered quickly. "Best let the girls handle it all. It'll all work out right, you just wait and see."

Gloria was surprised, to say the least, when Inez and not one but three of the local 'working girls' showed up at the store and asked to see Juliet, but it was what they brought with them that won her over. She looked over the clothes that Becky and Molly had filled their arms with in astonishment. "You have everything here and it's all just about the right size…but where did you get it? I've been almost beside myself trying to figure out where to find things for Julie on such short notice, seeing as how none of my ready-made stock will fit because she's so small."

"They was Emma's," Meg informed her gravely; Emma, another one of their number, had died the year before from consumption. "She was little too, an' we kept all her clothes 'cause it just didn't seem right to throw 'em away. And when Buck told us what happened to Miss Julie, we was right glad we hadn't."

"The way Buck tells it makes it sound like a dime novel story," Becky added shyly. "But we would have brought the clothes anyways if we'd known she needed 'em – Miss Julie's always been right nice to us."

"She come by last month when we all had that summer cold and brought us soup and things – she fixed up that nasty tea Mr. Jackson give us, too, and made it fit to drink." Molly grinned. "Miss Julie is right smart; she said there weren't no sense in givin' a body medicine that's just gonna make 'em feel sicker from takin' it."

"I'd have to agree with her," Gloria said slowly. She hadn't known about the visit, but the fact that Juliet had done it without letting anyone know didn't surprise her. "I suppose you girls can go on up; Mr. Standish is up there with her now. Just remember that she isn't supposed to stand up on those feet for at least another day or two."

"Senor Willmington already told us," Inez replied with a smile. "He was also hoping that we could keep her occupied so she would stop trying to get out of bed."

The bar manager and the three girls went upstairs, and moments later Ezra came back down with an expression that was equal parts surprise and amusement. "They evicted me, Mrs. Potter," he told the smiling woman. "Ran me right out of the room, said they had 'female matters' to talk about and why didn't I just get back to the saloon and keep an eye on things." He grinned and tipped his hat to her. "Ah'll be goin' then, ah guess, but ah'll be back when Inez comes back to the saloon and gives me leave to return."

Gloria laughed at him, wishing she'd been upstairs to see Inez and the three girls 'evict' the stubborn gambler, but still wondering if she'd done the right thing by allowing the 'working girls' their visit. She kept one ear tuned to the sounds from upstairs, and after about half an hour a cascade of giggles – one of which she was surprised to recognize as Juliet's – convinced her she that she had. It's about time I heard her laugh again, she thought to herself, relieved. Maybe all she needed was someone her own age to talk to.

The girls stayed until that evening and then came back the next afternoon, and the afternoon after that; the giggling was louder on the third day, and was this time accompanied by the occasional indignant exclamation and once by a quickly cut off flood of Cajun that couldn't have been anything but swearing. "Ah'd say that was the boots," Ezra commented to Mrs. Potter with a grin; he was waiting downstairs with Josiah to take Juliet to supper at the hotel, eager to see his fiancée back on her feet again. "Just how long does it take you ladies to ready one woman for supper?" he called up the stairs.

"Impatience!" he heard Inez reply. "We are coming now, Senor Standish; do not try to rush us!"

Meg, Molly and Becky came down first and Inez followed behind, trying to help Juliet make the descent on her still-sore feet; by the time they'd reached the bottom of the stairs, every mouth in the room had fallen open. Juliet took in the silently staring men and the astonished storekeeper and sighed, looking mournfully up at Inez. "See, I told you I looked silly."

The bar manager muttered an imprecation in Spanish and the working girls laughed. "Honey, that ain't why they're starin'," Molly reassured her. "You gotta remember, they ain't never seen you in anything but that old brown dress that didn't fit you too good or with your hair fixed up right – just give 'em a minute, they'll start comin' out of it."

"Might take longer than that," Josiah observed, recovering himself. "Those were Emma's clothes, weren't they, girls?"

"Emma don't need 'em no more," Meg shrugged practically. "'Sides, we had too much fun helpin' Julie get fixed up right – just like dressin' a great big china doll."

"Mah thoughts exactly," Ezra murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from his blushing fiancée. Emma's violet blue dress, taken in to be a proper fit by the girls, revealed a slender but gracefully rounded figure molded to perfection by the soft, lacy corset he knew was underneath – and the color made her eyes look twice as large as usual and her fair skin seem as flawless as fine porcelain. A tiny frill of lace at the end of each long sleeve blended in with the bandages that still wrapped her wrists, camouflaging them nicely, and they had pulled her ebony hair back with a blue ribbon but left curling tendrils free to frame her face, softening the still-livid bruise on her cheek. Ezra stepped forward like a man sleepwalking and took her hands in his, feeling the narrow band of cool metal on her ring finger. "You look too beautiful to be real, darlin'; ah'm afraid ah shall be called upon to defend mah claim to your affections on a regular basis once the other men of this town get a good look at you."

Juliet looked up at him through lowered lashes, her blush deepening. "Ezra…"

The gambler smiled and leaned closer. "Best be gettin used to compliments, darlin'…because ah'll call on the good lord to strike me down if a single day passes when ah neglect to shower you with them." He gave her a quick, gentle kiss and then turned to let her take his arm. "Shall we be on our way to supper, then? Ah believe there are quite a few individuals awaitin' our arrival at the hotel – all desirous of seein' you, if ah'm not mistaken."

She smiled and wrapped her slender fingers around his arm, the dainty gold ring gleaming softly against the indigo velvet. "We'd best be going then; ah wouldn't want to disappoint anyone."

Ezra sighed and shook his head, covering her hand with his own, the worn metal of his own ring appearing to pick up part of the gleam from hers. "Ah don't see how you evah could, Juliet."

Things gradually went back to normal in the town of Four Corners as summer shaded down into an even hotter autumn. Trouble came and went like it always had, hastened on its way out of the townsfolk's quiet lives by the seven peacekeepers sworn to protect the town – men much more dedicated than a dollar a day should have made them. They walked the dusty streets and patrolled the rutted trails with guns at the ready, and it was a very brave or very stupid outlaw that dared to ride into their territory, or even through it.

Ezra had been heard to observe more than once that 'stupid' was obviously the middle name of most outlaws.

The setting sun stretched long purple shadows across the seven tired men and their seven equally tired horses as they settled camp for the night, heading for home after three days spent pursuing the latest pack of troublemakers all the way into the jail at Jasper. Buck looked around at the silent men sprawled around the small fire. Vin was staring up at the sky; Chris, out into the deepening twilight. JD was half asleep and Nathan was watching him. Ezra was gazing into the fire, worrying at the gold band on his left ring finger. Josiah was looking at Ezra with a slight smile on his face.

Buck slapped his hat down on his knee, startling all of them. "Dang it, boys, would you look at us? What's happened to us?" He answered his own question. "I'll tell you what, we've been whipped, that's what! Lyin' around the fire, lickin' our wounds – Ezra, leave that danged ring alone before your finger falls off! Chris, what were you thinkin' about just now?"

Larabee smiled. "French toast with powdered sugar."

"An' orange sauce, don't ferget the orange sauce," Vin added dreamily. "Just ain't the same without it."

"You got that right, Brother," Josiah rumbled. "But strawberries would be almost as good. I'm mighty fond of strawberries."

Nathan just stared at them. "How many of you all is she marryin'?"

"Flapjacks would be better," JD muttered, not opening his eyes. "A big stack with butter and cinnamon and sugar."

"She's marryin' me," Ezra drawled smugly. "And that is why there will be a pie waitin' when ah get home. There is nothin' bettah than my Juliet's sweet potato pie."

"Amen to that, son," Josiah sighed.

"Totally and completely whipped," Buck said disgustedly. "JD, what would Casey say if she could hear you right now?"

"She'd say I have to share them flapjacks with her." The young man opened one brown eye, twinkling with amusement. "Buck, don't I recall you waxin' poetic about a batch of blueberry muffins the other day?"

"Blueberry gingerbread," the ladies' man corrected, licking his lips. "My lord that was good…" Then he caught himself and scowled, his broad shoulders slumping. "God damn it, kid, that was low."

Ezra winked at JD and stretched lazily. "All in favor of ridin' out early in the mornin' in pursuit of my wife-to-be's cookin' say aye." Five enthusiastic 'ayes' were echoed by a defeated one from Buck. The southerner laughed and pulled his hat down over his eyes. "Goodnight then, gentlemen; dawn comes early , ah believe-or so ah've been told, at any rate."

The End

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