Night and Day- the middle bit
By NotTasha... 

Back to the First Part

Part 11:

Chris headed toward South Bridge. He stopped his horse, Job, for the umpteenth time and dismounted. Crouching near the ground, he searched for a sign. The night was too dark to find the trail left by Buck's horse. The baked soil left little clue that anyone may have passed here. The best he could do for now was to continue on toward South Bridge and hope for the best.

He listened to the night, trying to catch the sound of someone moving about, hoping that at any moment he would run into the wayward gambler. Ezra had to have gotten away, Chris thought.

Chris stood beside his horse for a moment, laying his hand against the animal's soft muzzle. The men who had tried to kill JD, the men who were chasing after Ezra, were still out there. They were dangerous men, well-armed and with revenge on their minds. He should be cautious. His own life was in jeopardy. He should be silent.

Ah, screw that. "Ezra!" Chris shouted out and listened to the silence that followed. "Ezra!"

Come on you slippery son of a bitch, answer me.  Come on, you little weasel, you snake, you stubborn, southern bastard.

Silence still.

He shouted at the top of his lungs, "Ezra Standish, quit your lolly-gaggin' and get your gold-plated ass over here!"

A night bird took wing and something scuttled away in the blackness not far from him...and nothing else. Where the hell was Standish? 

Larabee sighed and mounted his horse and continued onward.

He listened, hearing only the crunch of rock under Job's feet, the horse's breathing, the jangle of the bit. An owl called from somewhere in the distance -- a lonely sound.

Damn it, Chris thought as they continued onward. What the hell am I doin' out here? Mary was right. I should have stayed put, should have let Buck sleep a piece and then haul him back out here. Instead I'm out here wandering pointlessly.

Chris was glad that he had come across Cal Stoker at least. The rancher had been heading toward town at this ungodly hour and Chris saw fit to use him to complete an errand. Something might turn out right in all of this.

Job suddenly lifted his head and snorted, looking off to the west.

"You hear somethin', boy?" Chris asked, as the horse pivoted his ears. "Let's go check it out."


Part 12:

Ezra watched the sky, waiting for dawn. He had tried to get comfortable, but that was an impossible task at this moment. He moved his right leg with trepidation, careful not to rustle the branch. He didn't want his leg to go to sleep.

Carefully, he watched for any sign of moment in the darkness. From his perch high up in the oak, he had a fairly good view of the surrounding area. He had seen the Hollowells stop for the night in a copse of trees. Ezra had moved off a short distance from them, finding a suitable stand of trees to hide his horse, and the tall oak to use as a perch.

The Hollowells' fire had burned all through the night. Ezra sighed, wishing he had the warmth of that fire at that moment. JD's jacket did little to protect him against the night chill. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them.  God, he hated being cold.

Ezra had noted that the fire had been tended from time to time and that at least one of the Hollowell brothers snored -- loudly. Other than that, the camp had been quiet.

He looked down to ensure that Chaucer was still below him, dozing beneath the tree. The horse would have to be well rested. He had to stay ahead of the brothers, had to keep the Hollowells in the chase, if his plan were to work. It would be more dangerous in the daylight of course, in full view.

The gambler had lost his pursuers more than once during the night ride. It grated against all his self-preservation skills to constantly draw attention back to himself, but the knowledge that he was bringing the Hollowells further and further from the injured sheriff -- and closer to his goal -- kept him going. Finally, realizing that he had gained a good distance from Buck and JD, and feeling his horse's weariness, Ezra let the Hollowells lose him in the dark. The five men, frustrated and tired, stopped the pursuit without any fuss.

Ezra hugged JD's coat against himself. He again wished that he had his wool jacket. Yes, it might look fancy, but it was made of the finest materials and provided him with ample warmth. This garment was a pale comparison. The torn shoulder didn't help matters and neither did the blood that had now dried and stiffened the jacket. Ezra fingered the bloody tear and again hoped that the young man was safe.

Standish was hungry. It would have been welcome to have something to eat at that moment. He remembered the biscuits and jam, the tinned fruit and the sandwiches that he had stashed in his saddlebags, and had left behind in the rocks. His stomach growled and he hoped that the noise wasn't as loud as it seemed. He would eventually have to find water, as his canteen was half-empty. He exhaled, wishing that he had his flask at least, but of course the alcohol had been put to a good use, to clean JD's gunshot wound. Still, rot-gut would have worked just as well as the fine Kentucky Bourbon that he gave up to the cause.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to force the weariness from them. He hadn't slept a wink all night as he kept his attention on that small camp in the distance. If the Hollowells showed any sign of movement, any sign that they were planning to start on the trail again...Ezra would have to get moving. He shook his head at his weariness... his own fault... shouldn't have been up all of the previous night... and most of the night before.

The sky was just taking on the first subtle shades of morning. The gambler sighed and carefully moved out of his seat and down the tree, doing his best to keep the rustling branches quiet.

Chaucer looked up at him as he came closer and nickered quietly when Ezra finally reached the ground.

"Sorry about this, old friend," Ezra said as he tightened the cinch on the saddle. "It's a pity that you could not have been more comfortable all night, but I'm afraid that I needed you ready." He patted the horse's neck before he led it out of the cover of the trees.

Chaucer snuffled at the man's jacket, still perplexed that his man could smell like himself and that young fella at the same time.  He curled his lip at the scent of blood, and had to reassure himself again that his owner was well.

Ezra stood in the open for a moment, gazing back at the Hollowell's camp and the lightening sky behind it. He mounted his horse and waited. Buck certainly has gotten JD home by now, Ezra thought. It would do no harm to attend to my own safety now. But what good would that do for JD?

The young man's life was too important. He shuddered to think how JD's death would affect the other lawmen. No, he would not allow that to happen. John Dunne brought such youthful exuberance to their little group. It seemed to be an act against nature to end his life so quickly, so violently and pointlessly.

Where would the Hollowells go if they gave up on this chase? They'd head to Four Corners ... directly to JD.  If JD's injuries delayed the arrival to safety, the Hollowells would catch up to Buck and JD on the trail, defenseless.

Of course, it was highly possible that the resourceful Mr. Wilmington was able to get JD to town by now. Certainly there had been enough time. Well then, the five Hollowell brothers would go on to Four Corners to complete their mission in town. Chris, Nathan and Buck would protect the young man... hopefully Vin and Josiah would be there as well by that time. Yes, the five lawmen could definitely defeat the five Hollowells... but at what cost. Someone could be injured... killed.

The thought of any one of the six being injured... murdered... by the Hollowells affected Ezra worse than he thought possible. How the hell did that happen? All his hard earned training... all the effort he had gone through to remain aloof, to be unaffected by such heavy weights such as friendship... all thrown out the window.

This, he thought, is exactly the sort of thing that happens when you start caring too much about other people. You end up terrified by the thought of harm coming to any one of them. You end up putting yourself in danger to protect them. You end up hungry and cold... discomforted. No gain. You end up in a tree all night. Exactly the sort of thing his mother had warned him about... well... except for the tree.

Ezra still had his plan -- an idea that would work. If everything went well, the Hollowells would have no reason to go on to Four Corners.  They would want to get as far from that town as possible... if his plan worked.

And of course, the plan called for the pursuit to continue. Ezra eyed the stand of trees that hid the Hollowells.

"Are you ready?" he asked the horse, who nickered in response.

Ezra shouted and the horse took off, again toward their destination, while sleepy-eyed Hollowell boys stumbled toward their mounts.


Part 13:

Nathan looked up as Vin Tanner and Josiah Sanchez burst into the clinic.

"What's goin' on?" Vin demanded, looking from Nathan to Buck to JD, only Nathan was awake to answer.

Nathan glanced at the clock as he set down his book. "You're early," he said. The sun was just up and the early morning light flooded into the small room.

"Chris sent Cal Stoker out to fetch us," Vin said as he and Josiah headed toward the bed. "We were camped out by Blue Creek."

Josiah smiled thinly. "The fool almost got his head shot off. Didn't think to hollar out ahead to let us know he was comin'. Think we scared a year or two off of his life."

Vin looked worriedly at JD. "He okay?" the tracker asked tentatively. Stoker hadn't been able to tell them anything about JD's condition other than that he had been shot and was now in Nathan's care.

Nathan nodded. "Should be. I'm gonna have to keep an eye on him though."

Josiah's glance fell on the sleeping Wilmington. "And Chris? Any word from him or Ezra?"  He tried to keep his voice even.  Ever since Stoker gave them the bare-bones version of what had happened, Josiah had been beside himself with worry.  Damn that fool, he’d thought.  Why in the world did he do this?

Nathan shook his head. "Ain't seen either of 'em yet."

"I 'spect we should head after 'em," Vin stated. "Dark as it was last night, there's no sayin' whether Chris was able to catch up with Ezra."

"Let's get goin'," Josiah responded. "I feel our brothers may need our assistance, and one of them has been gone too long."  He turned toward the door, itching to be underway.

Vin nodded and strode across to where Buck still slept. He drew back and gave the chair leg one tremendous kick, nearly knocking it sideways.

Wilmington woke with a start, his head banging against the window frame. He jerked upright, startled to find himself in the clinic and daylight streaming through the window behind him. He looked at Vin and Josiah standing over him.

"What the...?" he muttered. "Ah, hell," he added, remembering what had happened that night. He turned quickly to the bed. "JD! Nate, how is he?" Buck demanded.

Nathan nodded. "As long as I can keep the fever at bay, he should be all right. You did a good job with him, Buck. He'll make it just fine."

Buck nodded and smiled, but then his smile dropped.

"Ezra," Buck muttered, rubbing his eyes. "God, we gotta go after Ezra." He staggered to his feet and quickly grabbed his hat and his coat.  He realized that someone else was missing. “Chris?  Where is he?”

“Went out after Ezra,” Nathan reminded.

He swung a furious glance at Nathan. "Dammit, Nate, how could you let me fall asleep? I was 'spose to go back for him!"

"Couldn't do much for that, Buck," Nathan said with a shrug. "You were at the end of your rope."

Josiah grabbed Buck by the shoulder and propelled him to the door. "There isn't time to wonder about what could have or should have been done. No changing that. Right now, the three of us are going after Ezra and Chris. We'll get 'them home."   Lord, please, the preacher thought as he pushed Buck onward.


Part 14:

The damn hat was just too damn big! There was nothing worse than ill-fitting clothing, Ezra thought as he kept his head tipped in an effort to keep the hat in place. Well, he thought, there is one thing worse than ill-fitting clothing, and that is soiled clothing. Ezra glanced again at the blood-stiffened shoulder of his jacket. What he wouldn't give to get out of that coat, to get away from that overpowering scent of blood, JD's blood.

JD had better be all right. If the boy perished then... well... all of this would be for nothing. Ezra shook his head, almost dislodging the bowler. No, JD would be safe by now. Buck certainly would have brought him to Nathan's. If the young man were with Nathan, then he would be saved.

Ezra had no doubts about Jackson's skills. Yes, Nathan was a fine example of a human being. One of the finest Ezra had ever known... a far cry from himself.

Ezra sighed, thinking of the healer. They hadn't hit it off very well to begin with... his own fault entirely. Ezra had been trapped in that saloon, first by the sore losers in the shooting contest, and then by those gunslingers that had been trying to rope him into joining their impossible cause for a few measly dollars.

It was a purely fight or flight response. His entire being had been screaming to get the hell out of that saloon and there were those four men, holding a trump over his head -- they had known about the blanks! If they had divulged this fact to the other patrons of the bar, then Ezra P. Standish would have been as good as dead.

Ezra had done the only thing he could think of in order to escape... he had made disparaging remarks about one of the gunslingers -- they would leave him alone -- let him go -- want nothing to do with him -- and he'd escape.

The first law of the con was to start with something that the conned would believe. The southerner made bigoted comments about the black man and had been paying for it ever since. Ezra just wished he hadn't spoken those words... but there was nothing he could do about it now. Don't worry about it.

With any luck, Buck would have gotten JD to safety long ago -- to Nathan -- and everything would be fine.

Ezra kept just out of sight of his pursuers. They hadn't gained on him. They must be staying together, pacing themselves against their slowest horse. That gave him some advantage. The gambler slowed from time to time, to rest Chaucer and could catch sight of the five horsemen in the distance. Once he was certain they had seen him, he would take off again.

He did have to fire on them more than once to assure they kept their distance. He swore at every wasted bullet, knowing that he was growing closer to being defenseless when he ran out of ammunition. He had already emptied his Colt Richards Conversion... just the Remington and the derringer left. Of course the derringer would be of no use except at closer range and Ezra had no intention of letting it get to that.

"Not much further, Chaucer," he promised his horse as he continued onward. "Once we reach our goal, we shall put an end to this madness."


Part 15:

"Chris!" Vin shouted, and waved broadly at the figure in the distance. Through his spyglass he could make out the familiar dark coloring of the horse and rider.

Vin, Josiah and Buck continued as Chris closed the distance, leading a second horse behind him.

"You found Toby?" Buck asked, seeing JD's horse.

Chris grimaced.  "Damn horse! I was chasin' it for hours in the night. It was dawn by the time I figured out what I was trailin'. Here I am, tryin' to track down Ezra or those Hollowell boys and all I get is one damn horse."

"Still," Vin said, "JD'll be awful glad to have 'im back."

"Is JD doin' okay?" Chris asked, his gaze quickly flickering to each man, to try and read the answer before it was given.

“Good,” Buck responded.  “Doin’ real good.”

"Nathan seemed to think he’ll be all right," Josiah added. "Any sign of Ezra?"

Chris shook his head. "I haven't seen anything all night 'cept for JD's horse. There's been no sign of him."

He heard Josiah’s woeful sigh.

"Well," Vin said. "We'd best get a movin' then. We'll catch up with 'em."

Chris frowned. "I've wasted hours now. Would've been better off stayin' put.  I could have gotten a wink or two of sleep."

"Yeah, if he's got any sense, he'll lie low and let those boys go on past him," Vin said reassuringly. "We'll catch up to 'im in a minute. You'll see."

Chris nodded, hoping it was true, but having an awful feeling that it wasn't. He spoke his suspicion aloud. "If Ezra escaped, shouldn't I 'ave met up to him by now on his way home?"

Vin laughed lightly. "Knowin' 'im, he's probably holed up somewhere takin' some shut-eye. Probably doesn't even realize that we'd be out here lookin' fer 'im."

Chris looked at the tracker and was satisfied with the answer. That had to be the reason. Had to be.

The four men continued on the path toward South Bridge, back to where things had started goin' to hell.

Part 16:

"Buck?" JD called with a start.

"It's okay, JD," Nathan soothed.

"Buck?" JD asked again, turning his head toward the window and not seeing Wilmington any longer.

"He'll be back," Nathan assured as JD turned his brown eyes toward him.

"Where'd he go?"

"Gone to fetch that fool southerner," Nathan said with an easy smile.

JD nodded, accepting this response.

"I'm gonna want to change the bandage. It's bled through a bit. You ready for that?"

Again JD nodded and Nathan sat down beside him. "Won't take but a minute," Nathan promised. JD turned his head, pressing his face into the pillow as Nathan began to loosen the dressing.

"Hang in there, JD, I'll get it done right quick." The healer looked worriedly at the sheriff's pale face. "Gotta make certain you got no infection here."

JD clenched his teeth and breathed heavily.

"I'm sorry," Jackson apologized. He finished his work as quickly as he could, wincing when JD gasped.  Finally, he finished and settled the young man again. Nathan sighed as he washed his hands. He hated that. Hating hurting people when he was trying to heal them.

"I'm gonna want you to get some rest now," Nathan said calmly. "You need some time to heal."

JD shook his head slowly. "Need to stay awake. Wait for Buck to come back. Him and the others will find Ezra, won't they?"

"They'll do the lookin', JD. No need for you to worry yourself. What I need is for you to get some rest and start feelin' better."

"Gotta wait up for Ezra," JD said tiredly.

"You bein' awake or asleep won't hurry him none. You know how that man can dawdle. How 'bout this. I promise to wake ya the second we know what’s gone on with him."

JD looked skeptical but finally agreed. Nathan settled the young man in the bed and waited until JD drifted off to sleep. The healer remained for several minutes, listening to the even breathing of the sleeping sheriff before he exited the room to stand on the balcony for a breath of fresh air.

Outside the clinic, people moved easily down the street as if nothing was wrong. They laughed as if nothing was out of place. They chatted as if no one was missing and in danger. They walked along as if no one had gone off on some damned perilous ride and may be dead or alive -- no tellin' which. They went on with their lives as if all was right in the world.

Nathan scuffed his foot against the plank floor. He was worried about that gambler. If anything's happened to him, he thought... and paused, not knowing how to complete the thought.

Damn fool! 

Nathan leaned against the door to his clinic and sighed.


Part 17:

Ezra guided his horse along the lip of the precipice. He felt rather pleased with himself. He had reached his goal -- Banyon Cliff.

The cliff was formidable, steep and unforgiving. Seventy feet below, the Banyon River raged, furious with white water. People spoke of this area with a note of respect, knowing that a misstep would bring death. Natives of the area steered clear of Banyon Cliff. Travelers with any sense whatsoever never strayed anywhere near the sheer drop-off to the river below.

Ezra guided Chaucer close to the edge, looking downward as they traveled, trusting the horse to find adequate footing. He held onto the narrow brim of the too-large hat with one hand, and his gun with the other. The wind, gusting up the cliff side, threatened to blow the hat away, and he couldn't allow that to happen just yet... no the disguise must be complete.

Ezra glanced behind him, checking to see if the Hollowells had caught up with him yet, and then returned his gaze to the cliff below him. He spotted what he was looking for and the horse came to a halt.

"I knew this would come in handy someday," he said out loud, remembering the day that he had traveled along this route with Vin. The tracker had admonished him for coming so close to the edge, spouting no end of sage advice. Ezra had listened to the tracker of course, as he always did -- and pretended not to. Tanner, although a rustic in the most obvious sense of the word, was no fool, and was a veritable wealth of information when it came to things pertaining to the outdoor life -- and information was always a valuable commodity.

Funny, Standish thought, as he gazed down the vertigo-inducing descent, he never would have considered Tanner to be the type of person worth listening to. Yes, the two of them were as different as different could be, and yet, Ezra found a strange kinship with the reticent Tanner, almost a brotherhood.

Ezra laughed, wondering if Vin would appreciate that thought. Yes, what a strange family that would have made. He imagined Vin growing up in the pool halls and saloons alongside himself, under Maude's tutelage. He smiled sadly, realizing that it might have been a pleasant thing -- less lonely. Even the endless parade of reluctant relatives might have been more acceptable.  Some of the more pleasant ones would have liked Vin.

He sighed, thinking that he wouldn't want to have subjected Vin to some of that.  No, it would be best not involve Vin in that.  He grimaced slightly, reminding himself not to dwell on such things.

He’d have to be a half-brother if they were related at all.  He smiled. Yes, that would work.  Somehow, he couldn’t quite place the quiet and decent tracker as any son of his father.  He laughed, trying to imagine Maude as Vin’s mother.

A movement in the distance caught his attention, drawing it away from his thoughts. "I see that I made it here just in time," he said as he dismounted and stood calmly beside his horse, at the edge of the long fall.

The five riders on blue roans stopped in their tracks. The men regarded Ezra from a distance. The gambler swallowed and jammed the bowler tighter to his head.

"Come on," Ezra said under his breath, maneuvering Chaucer until he was pointed vaguely in the direction of home, and then Ezra made his way back to the edge. "I know you are aching to finish me. Come on then. Now's your chance."

One of the men shouted, but they were too far away to clearly hear what was being said.

"Someone must have an itchy trigger-finger. I doubt that patience was much of a virtue in the Hollowell home," Ezra watched the Hollowells and then frowned when they started coming closer. "Not too close now." He aimed his Remington in their direction and fired.

He smiled nervously when he saw their weapons come to bear on him. The smile became more nervous as they came closer. "No, we don't want you in range," he said as he fired again. Chaucer cringed and looked over his shoulder at his owner. Ezra pulled the trigger and clicked on an empty chamber. Damnation, out of ammunition. The derringer was still loaded, but it would do no good at this distance.

"Wait for it..." Ezra thought to himself as he holstered the empty gun. He watched the five matching horses come dangerously close. His concentration on the men, Ezra accidentally released his hold on the bowler and a gust of wind carried it away. He made a quick reach for it, but the hat fluttered out of his grasp.

He turned in time to see one of the Hollowells give in. The shot fell short, but the second the sound reached him, Ezra lurched violently, flinging himself backward and bringing an open hand against his horse's rump.

Chaucer bolted and Ezra fell.


Part 18:

And Ezra was airborne, falling toward the white water below. He reached out frantically, grabbing for the stunted bushes that grew from the steep sides of the cliff. Dead branches snapped at his touch as he hurtled past them. He hung for a second on a dried root before he finally dropped to the ledge below.

He landed with a 'whump' on the small surface and unfortunately started to roll.

He lashed out his arms, desperate to grab hold of something and managed to entangle his arms in the dry remains of some unfortunate plant life. His body continued to roll and his legs were suddenly flung out over the distant rapids. Frantically he pulled himself upward, back onto the narrow ledge. He tucked his legs up under him and scuttled to the overhang of rock. He wedged himself tightly under it as he heard the approach of horses.

He gasped for breath, trying to force himself into silence as he heard the voices of the Hollowells above him.

"Hot damn!"

"Jesus! Look at the drop-off!"

They were directly above him. Ezra scrunched himself into the tiny hiding place, hoping they didn't stay long, hoping they didn't think that the ledge was attainable.

"I got 'im!"

"Sure did, Matt. Didn't think you had that kinda range."

"Where the hell is the little bastard?"

"See 'im anywhere, Gus?"

"Looks like he fell right through them bushes there."

"Musta gone all the way down. Musta hit the river."

"Shot an' drown an' smashed up on the rocks."

"Yeah, smashed 'im on the rocks. Think he bounced? That musta been somethin' to see."

"Think his head split open when he hit?"

Laughter 

"Geez, I wished we coulda been closer when it happened. I woulda loved to see that son of a bitch die."

More laughter.

"Bastard deserved it!"

"Yeah!"

"I wanna see the body!"

"River's got it."

"Damn!"

"Sure was tired of followin' that piece of shit all night."

"The little guy shocked me, huh? Who would'a thought that the bastard could'a hung on that long after you got 'im the first time, Fred."

"We done our duty. Justice is served."

Ezra relaxed, smiling. The Hollowells thought they had killed JD. They would leave now and never haunt Dunne again. Certainly the brothers would realize that the other lawmen of Four Corners would come after them for the murder of their beloved sheriff. If they knew what was good for them, the Hollowells would high-tail it out of the territory immediately.

Then another voice said, "Hey, there's his hat."

The gambler's heart beat faster...where?

"I want it...a souvenir."

"Dammit, Dale!"

"Come on, gimmie a hand, Earl."

Ezra could hear them scrabbling around now. A litter of rocks cascaded down onto the ledge a short distance from him. The con man sucked in his breath and pulled himself as close to the rocks as he could manage.

"Almost got it!"

"Dale, yer gonna make me fall."

"Almost got it!"

"Knock it off, you two. We gotta go."

"Hang on, Fred, I want it."

"Forget it."

"Look just give me a rope and I can reach it. I want it."

Ezra fought with the urge to peek out and see exactly where the bowler was. He hoped it was nowhere near his position. He kept his head tucked in and waited, willing a gust of wind to blow away the damnable thing away.

"Shit, Dale! It's a fuckin' hat. We got the bastard who killed Rick and got Frank thrown in jail. You screw up and get yourself killed trying to get a crappy hat and then where will we be? That damn sheriff will have gotten three of the Hollowell boys. Hell, you'll probably pull Earl in with ya and then what will I tell Ma?"

"Screw it, Dale, let's forget about it."

"Aw, come on! You guys get everything! I called that hat. I want it."

"Shut up, Dale."

"Yeah, shut up, Dale."

Yes, Ezra thought...shut up, Dale.

Ezra heard Dale's sigh of resignation as Earl pulled him back up. "Dang it, I sure wanted that hat."


Part 19:

The four lawmen hurried along the path that Buck had taken through the night. Buck said nothing as he rode, remembering the ride to Four Corners, remembering how gravely wounded JD had been.

JD had lost consciousness, and it was all Buck could do to hold the young man in the saddle and spur his horse on to Four Corners. He had to save the kid, had to get him to Nathan and safety. Had to leave Ezra to whatever fate he had thrown himself into.

Buck sighed, wondering what had happened. So many hours had passed. The night had been dark and Ezra should have been able to put some distance between himself and the Hollowells. If the gambler's luck held, he could have escaped into the darkness. He could be perfectly safe now. Buck smiled, hoping they encountered Ezra ambling toward them with his usual over-confident smirk.

Then again, if the Hollowells caught up to him... then Ezra would be dead. Buck remembered gunshots in the distance as he had held onto JD, heading homeward. It would only take one bullet to kill a man.

Chris looked over to his old friend and said, "We'll find him."

"Why did he do it?" Buck asked, not even knowing that he spoke the words out loud.

"Probably thought it would work," Chris replied. He inclined his head as he looked at Buck. "And it did. You got JD home, safe."

"Yeah, but it probably got him killed," Buck responded bitterly.

"Don't give up hope, brother," Josiah said encouragingly. "We all know that Ezra is as slick as they come, and if there is a way out of this, he'll find it."  Josiah’s were growing tired at clenching his reins – the leather would be strangled by now if it were possible.  He kept searching the land before him, hoping to see the gambler.  He had to be okay.  “He’ll find a way out,” Josiah reiterated.

"There were five of 'em," Buck declared darkly. "How's he gonna get away from five."

"Oh, he'll cheat," Vin assured.


Part 20: 

Ezra waited.

He heard the sound of retreating hoofbeats and waited. If any of the men had stayed behind, if any of them were examining the cliff, if he moved too soon, he would be discovered.

If they had rode off slowly, and then paused for one last look along the cliff wall, and if he chose that moment to climb out of his scant cover, it would all be over. So he waited... waited long enough for the Hollowells to be long gone.

He wrapped his arms around himself and listened to the sound of the water rushing below him, feeling the wind gusting past him. It was chilly here, too cool for comfort.  His side hurt from the fall, detailing bruises. He glanced at his hands, noting that he had managed to acquire a few scratches from the bushes. The jacket and his trousers were torn.

He felt along his right arm. He already knew that he had lost the derringer, felt it pop out as he scrambled to pull himself onto the ledge, saw it fly past his hand (which was rather busy at the time), watched it bounce off the stone ledge and plummet to the river below. He had just hoped that maybe he was wrong and that the small gun was still in its rigging. No...it was gone. He was unarmed now.

But… he had succeeded. He smiled at the thought. The Hollowells should be putting distance between themselves and Four Corners now. JD was safe.

At least Chris wouldn't fault him for that. He had provided the distraction that saved the sheriff. Larabee would probably be rather unhappy about this entire incident, about how he had allowed JD to become injured in the first place.

I should have figured that something like this would've come from the encounter with Frank Hollowell in the saloon, Ezra thought. Well, Mr. Larabee, what do you expect? You knew what you were getting into when you gave me that second chance. Can't count on me to provide sufficient protection to the other members of this company of peacekeepers.

Yes, Ezra thought with a sigh, Chris should be much more careful about such things in the future. Larabee and the others deserved better than a self-involved con artist who didn't even notice the danger his compatriots were in.

Ezra waited until he was certain before he stiffly crawled out from under the outcrop and out onto the ledge. He looked up to ensure that no one was standing there, waiting for him. Only blue sky above the cliff -- sheer and steep. He looked straight up at the featureless sides of the rock. The bushes he had used to slow his fall were out of reach, and rather devastated by his plunge through them. They would not provide a means out. This was not going to be easy.

He walked along the narrow ledge, scrutinizing the cliff, looking for a means of escape. There had to be a way out.

His gaze fell upon the bowler hat that had ended up snagged in a scraggly bush halfway up the rock-face. If Dale had made it to that point, he may have been able to spy Ezra in his rather insignificant cover. Damn that hat!

He continued his search. No, it definitely was not going to be easy. He switched his attention to the river below. There was nothing between this meager ledge and the rapids. A mistake, a miscalculation now, would be the end of him.  His body would be carried all the way to Mexico.

The gambler sighed. "You definitely should've considered this in your little plan," he said to himself.

He tried to find a handhold to pull himself up, but the rock was almost smooth. He continued his attempts and was able to gain several feet off the ledge, but ended up dropping back when the ascent proved impossible.

He looked in irritation at his hands. He was obviously ruining his perfectly manicured nails. "Damnation," he muttered.

He moved further down the ledge, looking for a place where he could actually gain some purchase, finally ended up below the bowler hat that bounced in the wind, trapped in the bush.

The bush was growing from a crack that started at the ledge and continued upward. Now that crack... he would be able to climb it if he could get his hands into it. He tested the fissure, finding he could wedge his fingers in at least. It just might work. He looked up at the bowler that bobbed in the branches of the bush.

"Why thank you, Mr. Dunne," Ezra said, "for your helpful observation."


Part 21:

"It was here," Buck said, pointing to the group of rocks. They dismounted to examine the scene, the horses ready to rest after the hard ride. Buck sighed, seeing the saddlebags and the scattered boxes of ammunition that still remained. Damn!  Ezra didn't have any food with him, no blankets, hardly any ammo. Buck shook away that thought and looked up at the others who were waiting for him.

"He headed off that way," Buck said reluctantly as he pointed.

"Where were these Hollowell boys?" Chris asked.

Buck led them to the rocks where their pursuers had found cover.

"Left in a hurry, I see," Josiah said, noting the bedrolls, coffeepot, cooking pans, saddlebags and other camp goods that were left scattered in the area. Were they planning to spend the night here or were they just stupid? the preacher thought. He was beginning to think it was the latter.  He just prayed that they were stupid enough to let Ezra get away.

"They'll be comin' back for it," Vin suggested. "Would'a been back for it by now if they could'a."

Buck smiled for the first time since they had started this journey. "If they haven't come back, then they never caught up to Ezra! I bet they're still lookin' for that slippery devil."

Chris nodded in agreement. Damn, he hoped that was true.

Buck was about to retrieve Ezra's saddlebags when Vin suddenly grabbed him, forcing Buck to the ground.

"Down! Everybody down!" Vin hissed and the group dove for cover. "Someone's comin'!"

Josiah crawled to the horses, ensuring that they were hidden while the others took positions to see what was coming toward them.

Buck peered out at the two horsemen. "It's them!" he whispered. "Blue roans. The whole damn bunch of 'em had blue roans."

"Shit," Vin muttered, aiming his mare’s leg.

"Only two of them," Chris considered. "Why?"

Buck watched the two horsemen approach slowly. "Maybe they sent these two back to get their stuff 'cause the others are still trying to find Ezra," he said hopefully. "They ain't got 'im."

The riders were within range when they came to a halt. Chris could see the taller of the two (both of them little more than boys) hold out his hand to stop the other. They pulled their weapons and aimed into the rocks.

"Uh-uh-uh," Chris chided. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The two youths changed their aim, trying to find a target.

"Think about it boys," Chris continued. "You're sittin' pretty -- easy targets. Give it up and you'll live to see another day."

"I'd listen to 'im," Buck put in.

"Yup," Vin added.  "Won't be no sense to put up a fight."

Josiah added his own voice, "It'd be for the best, boys."

Realizing that they were outnumbered, the shorter of the two threw down his weapon. The taller gave the other an ugly look and tossed his gun as well. Chris and the others ran out to secure them. The riders were the youngest of the Hollowells, only teenagers.

"I could'a told ya this would happen," the taller said.

"Shut up, Dale," said the shorter.

"Yeah, the only reason Fred sent us was 'cause he knew this would happen," Dale glowered at the lawmen that approached him. "He sold us out, Gus."

"Shut up, Dale," Gus muttered again, holding his hands up as Vin reached him. He watched the tracker fearfully. "Fred didn't know nuthin'."

"We could'a put up a hell of a fight," Dale shot out angrily. "Could'a took 'em, too."

"Boys," Josiah said with an air of menace. "I believe that it's time to give up."

Gus was obviously frightened, but the elder, Dale, had a cockiness that sent a chill through Buck. Something about Dale's attitude told Wilmington that the worst had come to pass.

"Where is he?" Buck demanded, pulling Dale roughly from his horse. "Where the hell is he?"

Dale smiled, either too brave or too stupid to be frightened by Wilmington's aggression. "The sheriff? We did what we set out to do."

Chris' eyes went cold as he turned his gaze on Dale. "What do you mean?"

Vin pulled Gus to the ground and demanded of the quaking younger sibling, "What did you do? Where is he?"

Josiah found he couldn’t move.  He could hardly breathe.

Gus looked to his brother. "Don't say nuttin', Dale."

Dale just shook his head. "Eye for an eye! He killed Rick."

"Eye for an eye..." Josiah muttered, remembering the last time that he had heard that phrase.  No, dear God, no!

"He didn't do nothin' to your brother!" Buck growled. "You brother took his own life."

"Wouldn't 'a happened if it weren't for yer sheriff," Dale said, smiling.

Buck increased his hold on the young man. "What did you do?"

"Drown 'im," Dale said happily. "Shot 'im. Sent him offa cliff. Killed 'im three times over."

Buck felt his blood run cold... No! Oh no.

"It weren't us that shot him," Gus cried, trying to lessen their crime. "It were Fred that got 'im first. Then it were Matt."

“Where!” Chris barked at the youngest Hollowell who looked about ready to piss his pants.

"Banyon Cliff," Gus answered quickly. "It were Banyon! He fell all the way."

"Shit," Buck said, flinging Dale groundward. "Ah, shit."

Josiah hadn’t moved.   His eyes focused on nothing as he listened.

"Banyon," Vin echoed hollowly. He turned to Chris. "My God, Chris... Banyon." The cliff was well known by all the men. The tracker turned his gaze from one of his friends to the other, seeing the same horrified look. No one could survive that fall into that rocky, wild river.

Yeah," Dale said with a smirk. "I seen him bouncin' off the rocks below. Done split 'im open. Tossed his brains like candy. Then the river done carried 'im off. Looked like sack a feed on the water."

"Shut up, Dale," Gus yelled urgently, seeing the rage growing in the men around them.

"You bastard!" Buck growled, lurching forward. He hauled Dale back to his feet. "When?" Wilmington demanded, his face red with rage.

Vin increased his hold on Gus.  Josiah couldn’t quite move yet.  Chris laid a hand on his gun, his eyes darting between the brothers.

Gus tried to break away from Vin to get to his brother. "Hours ago... it was like four or so hours ago. Don't go hurtin' him!"

Josiah felt a cold sorrow reach him as he laid a hand on Buck's shoulder. He could see the anger and pain in Wilmington's visage. He had seen anger like that before. He had known such anger himself -- had seen the consequences. Buck would kill Dale if he had the chance.

"Don't do anythin' foolish," Josiah said quietly. The preacher felt numb after hearing Dale's words. His mind couldn't quite wrap around the image presented, couldn't quite fathom it. "It won't do any good to hurt 'im."  Only the cold pain that gripped him kept him from throttling the boy himself.

"Yeah," Buck replied, grabbing the young Hollowell by his shirt and lifting him off his feet, shaking him violently. "Sure would feel good though."

Dale's eyes went huge with fright as he suddenly gained a modicum of intelligence.

Gus' voice continued, "Please, don't hurt 'im. Please, he's my brother. He dinnet do it neither. He weren't the one that killed that sheriff. Please don't hurt 'im!"

Buck's gaze went from Dale's terrified face to Gus' frightened eyes. "Please," Gus begged again, falling to his knees, with Vin still gripping his forearm. "Please! I'll do anythin' you want. Please just don't hurt 'im!"

Buck stared at Gus, watching the frantic young man reach toward him, pleading. He could easily see the fear in the boy, the pain that filled him at the thought of harm coming to his brother. Did anyone plead for Ezra when the Hollowells descended on him?

Buck dropped Dale with a groan of disgust and stalked away. He rubbed his hands against his face as he tried to get away from the Hollowell brothers.

He felt Chris beside him and turned to his old friend. "I can't..." Buck started. "I just can't..." He lifted his hands in frustration and tried again. "I just can't believe it."

Chris didn't speak as he laid his hand on Buck's arm. Buck's gaze drifted to Vin and Josiah who stood guard over the Hollowells with the same haunted, distracted look on their faces.

"He can't be dead," Buck whispered.

"I know," Chris said, not knowing what else to say.

"I should'a gone back," Buck tried. "Shouldn't 'a fallen asleep."

"Can't go thinkin' that," Chris reminded.

"We shouldn't 'a left him to it alone!" Buck shouted, pulling his arm out from Chris' grasp. "I should'a gone after 'im!" He walked a few steps away and turned back. Buck shook his head hopelessly. He moved his hands restlessly at his sides, not knowing what to do with them.

Chris watched Wilmington, feeling the same despair. He had never really believed that Ezra would end up... dead.  He turned and headed back to Josiah. He met the big man's gaze, seeing the incredible sadness held in those eyes. There was more hurt in that glance than Chris cared to see at that time.  He averted his gaze and said, "I need you and Buck to take these boys to town. Vin and me are goin' to find 'im."

"I'm comin' with you," Buck declared.

Chris looked sadly upon his friend, seeing the desperation in his eyes. He wished that this could be easier. Chris wanted Vin with him to search for ... the body. He needed the sharp eyes and the knowledge of the tracker. Vin would know where to look.

Chris glanced at Vin, seeing the tracker gazing in the direction of the Banyon River. He knew that Vin was already calculating how to get down the river and figuring how long they would follow it in search of a dead man.

Long as it takes, Chris thought.

"Buck, I need you to go back to town with Josiah and the prisoners. Me and Vin will look for Ezra."

Buck opened his mouth to put up an argument, but Chris silenced him with a look.

"Who's Ezra?" Dale asked, confused, as Josiah secured him with handcuffs.

Josiah met the boy's gaze and said quietly, "A good friend."

"Your brothers," Chris barked, snatching Gus' collar and hauling him off his knees. "Where are they?"

"They sent us to get the stuff and then meet up with 'em back at Falling Cross," the prisoner responded quickly.

Chris sighed. "Buck, you and Josiah bring in these boys. Then, get Nathan and head to Falling Cross."

"JD might still need 'im," Buck responded numbly.

"JD should be doin' a lot better by now. Have Mary watch over 'im. We gotta get these bastards."  He continued in a low voice, "They're gonna pay for killin' one of our own."

"Maybe you should go with 'em, Chris. They'll need a hand," Vin suggested softly, looking downward. "I'll find Ezra. Won't take two of us."

Chris looked to Tanner, seeing the sadness in his expression. Damn, they were all going to be a mess, weren’t they?  Ezra….aw, Ezra.  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

"You shouldn't go alone," Chris responded. "Buck and the others will handle the Hollowells." He owed it to the gambler in any case, for not finding him in time, for wasting the night away.

"Yer gonna need every gun you can get to take down my brothers," Dale crowed happily.

"Shut up, Dale!" Gus cried. "What are you sayin'? Jeez, are you an idiot? Yer gonna get 'em all killed."

Dale frowned at the realization. "Oh, yeah," he said.

"Let's get goin'," Chris said wearily, knowing that it would take the better part of the day to follow that river. He sighed, thinking of the long journey.


Part 22:

Ezra rested...or at least tried to. His hands were crammed into the stone crack, as were the toes of his boots. He leaned into the wall of the cliff. He was almost there. Just a few more feet and he would be out of here, off of this cliff-face, back to the relative safety of level ground. He looked at the remaining distance, and knew that it may as well be miles. He was utterly exhausted.

He gazed carefully downward, noting how far he had been able to climb. Quite the accomplishment, he thought. Reaching the bush had taken more time than he cared to remember. The crack was so narrow at the start that he could hardly get any more than his fingers and the tips of his boots into it. His fingers were bloody and bruised from the abuse; his carefully manicured nails were in a wretched state.

He had managed to rip JD's jacket nearly to shreds during his attempt to climb through the center of the scrubby bush that grew from the crack in the wall. At least he had been able to retrieve the hat, which was now jammed under his gun belt.

He sighed and held on, trying to rest. The wind blowing across him was refreshing, but would grow cold again if he paused too long. He wished he had his canteen, wished the canteen was full -- he had only an inch or so left in the bottom before he took his plunge -- should have remembered to bring it along. Left on his saddle, it was long gone.  He was so tired and thirsty, hungry and sore, and he was still several formidable feet from safety.

He flexed one hand, preparing to move it again, to continue up the crack in the cliff wall. Then he heard it.

He sucked in his breath and listened... yes, he was certain this time. He could hear a horse moving above. Good Lord, he swore to himself and pulled close to the wall. The Hollowells had returned! He looked over his shoulder again, wondering if he should release his hold. He was a sitting duck here. His arms trembled as he thought about letting go. He had worked so hard to get this far...how could he return to the beginning?

Don't move, he thought, as he heard the horse draw closer. If you let go, they'd hear you landing below... they'd shoot you just as easily down there as here. Hold on, maybe they'll go on. Maybe they won't see you here, like a fly on a wall, like a bug ready to be squashed.

He pressed his head close to the stone surface, looking upward, waiting for whatever would follow. He considered pulling out one of his empty weapons, to use it to threaten whoever was about to discover his position. But, his tired arms just weren't strong enough to hold him with one hand anymore... he doubted he could aim at all if it came to that.

He could easily hear the movement, just above him now. The clatter of hooves on stone, as someone searched above.

Please, he thought, just move on now. Nothing to see here. The sound was so close now, directly above him, and a spray of gravel rained down on him. Ezra ducked his head. Damn, they got me.

Part 23:

Ezra clung to the cliff-face, willing himself into invisibility. Above him, a horse snorted. Ezra frowned --is it? he thought, before looking upward. He smiled when he saw the familiar head peering at him.

"Chaucer, either you truly are a fool, or you are a true friend," Ezra said to his horse that stared at him with a perplexed look on his long face. Chaucer didn't see his owner from this angle very often.  The horse whickered in recognition and shifted back and forth.

Ezra released one hand from the crack and moved it up to a new handhold. "Any horse with half an ounce of sense would be home by now. You have a more than acceptable stall awaiting you. Hay, oats, fresh water..." he grunted, struggling upward another few inches. "And yet you remained here. Don't tell me that you couldn't find your way...I've taught you better than that. You must look out for yourself for I am not always able to do so."

Lord, it was hard. His arms shook, trying to hold is weight. Every time he released his grasp to find another, he could almost feel himself peel away from the rock-face. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Chaucer whinnied happily, watching his owner slowly make his way up the last few feet. The horse lowered his head and tried to nibble on the fingers that just came into reach.

"HEY!" Ezra shouted.  The horse jerked back his head for a moment, only to return to his task.

The horse's reins fell forward and were quickly grabbed by Standish. Chaucer looked expectantly at his man, as he felt the pressure applied strangely to his bridle.

"Chaucer, dear friend, would you do me the personal favor of backing up?" Ezra asked smoothly. The horse pivoted its ears and Ezra repeated, "Back up."

The horse shifted his weight and started to back away from the cliff edge, dragging its owner along with him. Ezra helped as best he could, trying not to pull the bit from the horse’s mouth.  He walked up the cliff-face as his horse pulled him.

It wasn't until Standish was fully on the level surface that he halted the horse, released the reins and lay on his stomach on the rocky ground.

"Thank you," Ezra muttered into his arms. "Emphatically, my dear Chaucer, I thank you." It felt so good to not be hanging from his fingertips. To just be able to lay here and breath deeply. Good Lord, he was tired.

When was the last time he’d slept? He had been up all night... and the night before...the previous night was interrupted far too early by the unnecessary job in South Bridge. He closed his eyes. Maybe just a minute or two of sleep.

"Hey!" Ezra shouted as he felt his hair being bitten at. He swatted vaguely at the horse's head. "In a moment." The horse tugged at his collar. He groaned and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Chaucer looked at him with interest.

Ezra winced when he put pressure on one hand. "Look at my hands," he said, presenting them to the horse for inspection.

Chaucer snuffled at his palms for treats but found none.

Ezra seemed to find Chaucer's inspection satisfactory.  He withdrew his hands and briefly inspected JD's ruined jacket, his torn shirt and tattered vest, realizing that the rents in the material matched scratches in his skin. He was rather bruised on one side from when he had landed on the ledge. His appearance was, in a word, wretched.

He sighed miserably when he saw the condition of his boots. "Do you know how difficult it will be to replace them?" he asked the horse, who cocked its head at him. "First, I will have to send a special order to Amarillo. Undoubtedly it'll take weeks for the order itself to be completed, and then there's the shipping time. If the local delivery service holds true to its recent form, it will be a months before I can receive proper replacements." Ezra shook his head. "And then of course, I would have no idea of if the shipped product would actually meet my strict requirements."

He rubbed his thumb against the scarred toe of one boot and muttered, "A travesty, a sheer travesty."

Chaucer nickered again and tossed his head.

Ezra gave up trying to repair the damage done and pulled the bowler out of his gun belt. He slapped it against his knee as he smiled at the horse. "Haven't lost it yet," he said.

Part 24:

Chris and Vin silently followed Banyon River up toward Banyon Cliff. Their gaze stayed mainly on the river and its banks as they searched. From time to time they would stop when they sighted a dark shape under the surface of the water and one of them would dismount to investigate. They had silently reached an agreement that whomever spotted the shape would be the one who inspected it. Vin's quick eyes subjected him to the majority of the searches.

Here, the Banyon was shallow and wide.  It would narrow at the cliff, becoming faster and more dangerous.  They would wade out into the water and feel under the surface. So far they had only found sunken logs, dark rocks, hollow spaces and tricks of shadow.

They inspected shapes on the river's bank, crossing the shallow and quick moving river from time to time to check something on the opposite bank. So far, their search brought up nothing.

Chris could see the cliff in the distance, and as they slowly approached it, he could feel a great weight come to bear on him. The cliff was so high. He grimaced as he imagined the scene...Ezra shot and falling off the cliff...to the Banyon River below...falling so far. Dale's description haunted him. Chris knew that Ezra didn't have a chance.

Damn you, Ezra, Chris thought as he silently rode beside Vin. Damn you for taking a fool chance. Damn you for not bein' careful enough. Damn you for gettin' trapped up against that cliff. Damn you for getting yourself killed. Damn you for making us come out here lookin' for ya. Damn the cliff, damn the river, and damn all the damn rocks in it. Damn it all.

He watched as Vin slowed his horse, gazing out into the water. The tracker looked up to Chris and smiled grimly before dismounting, and wordlessly entering the fast moving water again.

Vin waded toward a darkness under the water. The gunslinger held his jaw tight, waiting, hoping that Vin had found Ezra this time. Please, let this all be over with, Chris thought. I can't stand this searching anymore. Let it be him this time.

If it's Ezra... we can stop this search. Bundle him up and bring him home. We won't have go keep goin' out into the cold water, checking...looking... for a body. 

A dark shape beneath the water...Ezra...just a dark shape under the water. Damn Vin and me for not finding him yet. Damn myself for wastin' so much damn time chasin' after a damn loose horse. Chris grumbled, remembering again that he should have brought Toby with them instead of sending JD's horse back with Buck. They could have used the spare horse to bring Ezra home. Damn it all to hell.

The Hollowells...Dale and Gus and Matt and Fred and whoever else they might be... damn them most of all. 

Chris watched as Vin reached into the water, feeling around beside a large stone.

Chris looked away, up the river toward the cliff. He silently prayed that JD was okay, that Nathan was right, and the young sheriff would be just fine. At least that, let the kid be all right.

He returned his gaze to Vin as the tracker stood. He saw the relief in Vin's face and knew that they hadn't found the body yet. So they would keep searching, as long as it took.

Vin hurried back through the water and back to his horse. The two men said nothing as Vin mounted and they continued upriver, toward Banyon Cliff.

The men road side-by-side, keeping an eye on the river. A few minutes later, Vin stopped, wordlessly dismounted and reentered the river.

Chris sighed as he watched his friend slog hopeless to another dark shape in the water.

Damn, Chris thought.

Part 25:

Nathan sat beside the young sheriff, and carefully wiped his sweating face.

"Come back...come back," JD muttered. "Don't..."

"Quiet now," Nathan shushed. "It's gonna be all right. Just hang in there." JD's fever had increased during the day, but it had leveled out a few hours back, and appeared to be lessening now. The healer checked the wound again to ensure that infection hadn't set in. He nodded to himself, pleased that all looked well.

JD moaned and tried to struggle away from him. "No," he murmured.

"Easy, JD," Nathan said as he replaced the bandage. "It's gonna be fine." He carefully sat the young man up and pressed a glass of water to his mouth. "Drink this," he commanded.

JD did as he was told, opening his eyes to fix on the glass as Nathan held it for him. The healer gently settled him back in the bed.

"Buck?' JD looked around briefly, gazing toward the chair where Wilmington had been sleeping. "Buck?"

"He'll be back soon," Jackson promised. "Get some sleep."

JD's gaze traveled to Nathan's face. "Where?"

"They're still lookin'," Jackson told him.

JD's eyes turned sad. "Haven't found 'im yet?"

"They'll be back any minute now," Jackson said confidently. "I'm sure."

JD turned his head toward the door and blinked slowly. "Why ain't they back yet?"

Jackson wanted to say something reassuring but all he could say was, "Dunno." He laid his hand on JD's forehead and ordered, "Rest now."

JD's eyelids fluttered closed and he sighed as he fell back to a troubled sleep.

Nathan watched the young man's face relax and then glanced at the clock. Where?... that was a good question. Where were Chris, Buck and the others? What was taking so much time? He sighed, hoping that no one was hurt, that they didn't need his healing skills. Where were they?

He was ready, in any case. He had made the proper preparations. The longer they took to return, the worse his suspicions became. Something must have gone wrong.

He turned to the door, thinking that Ezra would saunter in any moment, asking where everyone had gone off to, checking on JD but pretending not to care one way or the other. Nathan smiled at the thought, almost able to see the enigmatic con man, grinning as he strode through the door.

Ezra always tries so hard to make everyone believe he doesn't give a damn, Nathan thought. Yet he probably frets worse than any of the others when someone was hurt. He works awful hard at keepin' people at arms-length. What's he so afraid of? 

JD muttered and Nathan returned his attention again to the sheriff. If he could just keep the fever down, Dunne would be all right. He wrung out the cloth in the basin before returning it to JD's warm brow.

Jackson startled at the sound of the door opening and looked up expectantly as Buck and Josiah entered. He didn't move, watching their expressions.

Oh no, Nathan thought, seeing the hopelessness in Buck's face, seeing the depth of the sorrow etched into Josiah’s… No!  

Buck paused, and then moved to the bed. "How is he?" he asked.

"Fever's still in 'im," Jackson replied. "Hasn't gone up none lately. He should be okay." Nathan's gaze switched from Buck to Josiah. "Didja find Ezra?"

Josiah did not meet Jackson's glance, looking instead at the pale easterner in the bed. He had noted on his entrance that Nathan had already prepared the room for another patient. The cot was set up, and bandages ready.

"Chris and Vin are lookin' for 'im now," Josiah replied softly.

Nathan waited a beat and then asked, "Should I catch up with 'em?" 

Neither man replied immediately. Buck sat beside his young friend, laying his hand on top of JD's and watching the kid toss his head.

Josiah finally spoke. "Went off Banyon Cliff."

Nathan sucked in his breath, letting it out with a strangled, "No!" He was silent for a moment and then said... "You think maybe... maybe...." 

"The boys who were there said they saw..." Josiah trailed off, unable to speak the next words.

Buck looked up from JD when the preacher fell silent. "The bastards said they saw him busted up...floatin' off... down the river."

"Chris and Vin are looking for 'im now," Josiah repeated solemnly. "They'll bring 'im home."

Nathan looked to the cot he had prepared. "Oh God, no."

"Nathan, will JD be all right if we left him in Mary's care?" Josiah asked.

The healer replied, "I think he's on the downside of the fever."

"We got two of the men who did this. They're in the jail now with Cal Stoker keepin' an eye on them," Josiah continued, watching Buck who silently held onto JD's hand. "There's three more out there. They're out at Falling Cross. We could use you."

Nathan didn't want to leave JD, but Buck and Josiah needed help. They had to bring in the men who hurt JD...who killed Ezra. Damn it, Nathan startled at the thought, not ready to accept that fact. Ezra couldn't be dead.

Nathan glanced again at the doorway, and wasn't able to picture Ezra appearing there anymore... grinning and asking about the others.

Jackson nodded. "I'll get Mary to watch 'im," he said. "He'll be alright for a bit." Nathan stood stiffly, and made a move to walk around the cot to head to the door. Instead, he plowed through it, kicking the small bed aside in frustration and then went to find Mary Travis. 

Part 26:

Vin scanned the steep sides of Banyon Cliff while Chris continued to search rocky banks of the river. They had made it all the way to the cliff without a sign of their lost friend.

The tracker noted the narrow ledges that dotted the sides of the cliff. He looked hopefully, wishing to see the gambler perched on one of those tiny ledges, giving them his usual two-fingered salute, calling down to them to complain about how long it took them to reach him.  He noted a place where something had recently fallen through the bushes, confirming the boys’ story.  He winced at the thought.

He scanned the ledges for Ezra...for a body... and saw nothing.

The little outcrops were so narrow, so widely spaced. Not much of a chance, he thought. He sighed, remembering the day that he and Ezra had ridden along the top of that cliff. How he had lectured the southerner about the dangers of the location and how the obstinate gambler had ignored him and traveled all the closer to the edge.

Vin rubbed the bridge of his nose and thought, why didn't cha listen to me? How could ya go and get yerself trapped atop that cliff. I told ya it was dangerous there! I told ya! Why didn't cha just listen? Actually thought you understood what I was goin' for. What happened? Why didn't cha just listen ta me fer once?

He sighed. If I had just warned ya about gettin' trapped up against this damn cliff, maybe you'd still be alive. I was spendin' all my time tryin' ta keep ya from ridin' so close. Dinnent think on tellin' ya not to get yerself trapped there. I should'a warned ya about that. Dinnent think on it. Should'a.  Damn sorry, Ezra. 

Chris had made his way to the top of a large pile of rock to get a better view. The area beneath the cliff was littered with stone that had fallen from the heights. Chris looked carefully, needing to find that body. If he could just bring this journey to an end, stop this horrible search.

Vin tore himself away from the cliff and returned to the river. The tracker paused for a moment and then trod out into the water again. Chris waited as Tanner moved through the quick-moving waters, toward yet another dark shape in the water.

Tanner stopped halfway to his goal, gazing down in the water. He looked to Chris, and seemed to be about to say something, but instead returned his attention to the water at his feet. He crouched down slowly and retrieved what had caught his eye.

Chris waited, unable to see the object that Vin carefully held in the palm of his hand. Neither man moved until Chris finally gave in and asked, "What is it?" The sound of his own voice startled him. He realized that neither of them had spoken for hours.

Vin said nothing. Rather he held the object up so that Chris could easily see the tiny gun that usually hid up the gambler's sleeve.

Part 27:

Ezra kept Chaucer at an easy gait as he headed toward home. He took a long route to avoid the area where they had been attacked. He had seen the tracks of the Hollowells headed back in that direction, and realized that they would probably be returning for the supplies that they had abandoned in their quick pursuit.

The gambler glanced unhappily at his saddle, thinking of his own missing supplies. He had nothing. His canteen was empty now as were his remaining weapons. His clothing was in tatters...filthy and stained. It made his skin crawl to think about it.  At least he had left the drafty cliff behind and wouldn’t be so cold.

He had left JD's bowler jammed under his gun belt, realizing that he wanted no one to see it at this moment. If he were to keep up the charade, then the faux sheriff should not make another appearance.

He wished he had more water at least, to clean up his torn hands, to tend to his scrapes and scratches. He had shared the last of the canteen's contents with his horse, but he was thirsty still and hungry as well. So tired. He wished he had some new clothes to change into, but for now, he would have to settle for JD's miserable jacket.

His arms ached from the climb, and he laid them over the pommel of his saddle as he rode. The reins hung loose in his tired hands and he encouraged Chaucer in the right direction with his knees.

He blinked against his weariness. He could sleep in the saddle and let Chaucer take him home, but he had to be on the lookout for the Hollowells. They were still out there somewhere. No, there was no time to rest ... yet.

Besides, the last time he had tried napping in the saddle when traveling alone, he had awakened --hours later -- a very short distance from where he had succumbed to sleep. Chaucer, he knew, was no fool and would take advantage of any situation that presented itself. If the horse saw a chance to get some shut-eye, he would take it.

Ezra yawned and straightened, then shook his head, trying to keep sleep from overcoming him. His route was going to take several hours, but once he was finished he could get some sleep, after checking in on JD, make sure the young man was okay. Check on Buck too. Ensure that they both returned safely.

Yes, he would just continue for a bit longer on this route, and turn toward Four Corners once he reached the crossroads known as Falling Cross.

Part 28:

Josiah, Buck and Nathan headed out of town, toward Falling Cross, toward the three brothers. Buck and Josiah traded out their mounts for fresh horses, and all three men were well armed and ready to capture Fred, Matt and Earl... the last of the Hollowells.

Buck didn't look at either of his traveling companions as they rushed to their goal. Fine knowin' ya, Buck thought, remembering his last words to Ezra. Fine knowin' ya. Should 'ave been something better... something with more... feeling.

Buck remembered turning back and seeing Ezra in the growing gloom and Ezra returning the sentiment, remembered seeing Ezra on Chaucer, prepared to lead the Hollowells away from JD...and himself, remembered seeing Standish tear off into the darkness to his doom. Buck remembered his own anger before he had realized what had happened. The last time he had laid eyes on Ezra -- disguised as JD -- he had been furious with the gambler. Buck kept his eyes forward as they traveled into the late hours of the day.

The preacher sighed and adjusted his hat against the low evening sun. Losing Ezra hurt him worse than he dared think. It was like losing a son.  God, it dug a hole in his heart.  He had to push that away. If he were to dwell on that loss now, he’d crumble off this horse and lay there on the baked earth.  No, he couldn’t think about that just yet.

He wished that he had been able to get through the exterior of the con man, wished that he had been able to convince the stubborn southerner of his own worth. Too late now, Josiah thought, too damn late. He shook his head to clear it of that thought. It'll do no good, thinkin' on what can't be helped any longer. He fixed his mind on the capture of the Hollowell brothers. They'd bring those boys to justice for killing a friend.  Once that was done, and those boys were locked up – then he could fall apart.

Nathan grimly kept pace with Buck and Josiah, hoping that this was over soon, that they easily found the Hollowells brothers, that that they would be able to subdue them without bloodshed... without much bloodshed at least. There had been too much sorrow for one day.

Jackson never was able to really understand that southerner. Ezra was such a twist of contradictions. Nathan couldn't tell where the truth lay with that man. It seemed every time he had Ezra figured out, the chameleon would shift color and frustrate him completely.   But perhaps some of those switches shouldn’t have surprised him so much.

Sorry, Nathan thought. I never got around to knowin' you better.

Nathan glanced at his two companions, hoping that this whole incident was resolved soon. That no one else had to be hurt. Falling Cross was in open country. The people waiting there would be able to see them coming. How in the world would they get close enough to capture them? Nathan brushed his hand across is bag of medical supplies, hoping for the best.

Part 29:

"Nathan?" JD stirred and looked across the room. "Nate?"

"It's okay, JD," he heard Mary's soft voice. "He'll be back soon."

JD frowned. Everyone was leaving him. Why? Why did everyone have to leave? "Buck and the others come back?" he asked Mary.

"Yes," Mary said as she poured a cup of tea for the sheriff. "They returned about an hour ago and have gone back after those men who attacked you."

"All of 'em?"

"Well, they found two of the men and have gone to get the other three," Mary said confidently. "I'm sure everything will work out."

"No," JD said, frustrated, "I meant, did everyone come back. Did they find Ezra?"

Mary smiled tightly. "Not yet." She helped JD to sit up.

JD groaned at the movement and accepted the bitter tea before he spoke again. "Do they know where Ezra is?"

Mary nodded. "Yes, they do."

JD smiled. "Good. I was so worried." He gauged Mary's expression and knew that something was wrong.  His smile faltered. "Mary?"

"Just get some rest now. You need to heal." 

"Mary?"

"Quiet now, JD." Mary continued to smile as she picked up the cloth from the basin and laid it against JD's too warm brow. "Just rest now."

"Tell me," JD demanded with as much vigor as he could muster. "What's happening?"

Again Mary just smiled, a tired and shallow smile. "I really don't know exactly," she replied. She had heard the news that Buck and Josiah had brought, had seen their faces. She had promised Nathan that she'd tell JD nothing.

The healer had been so solemn, so determined to make her understand that he would to be the one who told JD. He had half-heartedly tried to raise the sheriff before he left with the others, but JD had fallen into a deep sleep and Nathan gratefully gave up on the task. "I'll tell 'im when I get back," he had said out loud.

Mary didn't envy Jackson, and was relieved that she wouldn't be the one to tell JD that Ezra had been killed in his attempt to draw attention away from the young man. As JD's eyes searched her face, she could see the realization come to him.

"No," JD sighed miserably. "Oh God, no..." and sleep once again took hold of him.


Part 30:

"We should go," Vin said finally.

Chris continued to walk along the rocky bank of the Banyon. "We'll find him," he declared.

"It'll be dark by the time we get home," Vin continued.

"I'm not givin' up," Chris stated. "Not gonna stop 'til we find him."

Vin sighed and moved to his horse. "We got no food for us and no feed for the horses. You got no campin' supplies. We should go home. See if the others need help." He mounted and turned Peso while Chris continued his movements along the bank. "Chris, he's not here."

"He has to be somewhere, damn it!" Chris growled.

Vin continued to speak softly. "We'll go home and come back tomorrow. Search further down the river. Look someplace else." Vin couldn't look anymore. The depressing task of searching the river for the body of their friend had taken all the strength from the tracker. At that moment, he wanted to be a million miles from the Banyon. He couldn't stand to remain another minute in the shadow of Banyon Cliff.

"Tomorrow," Vin said. "We'll bring Buck and Josiah and Nate." He moved slowly away, his head down. He couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't even bare to think of returning tomorrow.

Chris stopped and sat down on a stone by the river, resting his arms on his knees.

"Ah hell, Ezra," Chris muttered at the water. He hated the thought of leaving. The thought of a body caught beneath the water's surface haunted him. He closed his eyes tightly, trying not to see it anymore. He didn't want to leave Ezra alone in the cold water...or abandoned on a rocky bank... open to the elements and scavengers.

Chris exhaled slowly. He used to like to fish the Banyon.

He looked up to see that Vin had stopped and was looking back at him expectantly. Chris stood stiffly and went to his horse.

"Tomorrow," he promised. "Ez, I swear, we'll come back and getcha tomorrow."

Part 31:

Ezra kept his head steady as he listened to the buzz that seemed to fill it. He was so very tired. He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and kept Chaucer pointed toward the tumbled shack ahead of them. He had forgotten about the little ramshackle shelter, and now it looked like a haven to him.

He could hide himself and the horse there and they could get some rest. He wouldn't have to worry about the Hollowells for a while. He could just lie down and sleep. The thought of rest spurred him on. He clucked to the horse and Chaucer increased his speed.

They were nearly to Falling Cross, within sight of it. Ezra could see the familiar landmark -- a large stone -- a cruciform, titled -- just beyond the shack. His approach startled a pair of crows that rested on the roof of the cabin. They took to the air, their wings making a dry sound as they flapped.

Damn crows, Ezra thought, trying to keep his mind off of Josiah's vision of the birds. Josiah and his crows...he sighed thinking of the preacher. He had a great deal of respect for the man, even though he had little for organized religion. A greater man would be hard to find, but if Josiah had a failing, it would be his misplaced paternal instincts.

Ezra shook his head, thinking that Sanchez had no idea the risk he took in playing the role of a father figure. "Disappointment without end," Ezra muttered to himself as he continued onward.  His own father never found anything worthwhile in him, so why did Josiah insist on trying to take up that part?  The man would only find disillusion in the end.

He deserved better, Ezra decided.  He deserves much more.

He had just reached the small structure when he heard voices. He jerked to a stop, taking a minute to realize that the voices weren't coming from inside the shack, but from beyond it.

Ezra dismounted quietly and peered around the cabin. There were three men with three horses waiting at Falling Cross.

"Good Lord," Ezra sighed and pressed against Chaucer, making sure that the shack hid the horse. Blue roans... three blue roans. It was the Hollowells again. He watched them carefully from the lea of the building. Apparently, he hadn't been seen yet; the shack had blocked their view of him, just as it had blocked his view of them.

Now what? The Hollowells were at Falling Cross...did that mean they were heading onward to Four Corners? Why? Did they unravel the deception? If they had, then all was lost. 

Only three men. Were they waiting for the other two? Why were they at Falling Cross? Where were they going? 

Ezra leaned his weary head against the side of the old cabin. No, they wouldn't be going to Four Corners... not with the murder of the sheriff hanging over their heads. Ezra squinted across the distance... or rather, attempted murder. They should be brought in to justice.

Ezra touched his empty weapons. He could bluff...but he was so damnably tired. He realized that he wasn't going to be the one to bring them in. He would have to alert the others... get to town and tell Chris, Vin and everyone... get them out here to capture these three miscreants...bring them in for the pain they had caused to JD.

Now, Ezra realized, I need a means of getting past them.

Think...

Ezra tugged at the torn, yet still recognizable jacket. He looked to his distinctive chestnut-colored horse. Slipping past would require...assistance.

Ezra flipped the hasp on the door to the cabin and quietly pulled it open. The shack was mostly empty. Whatever furniture once graced the small abode had long ago been carried off, but a broken-down wood stove remained.

Ezra pulled Chaucer in after himself. The horse snuffled at the unfamiliar scents. Ezra looked around in the dim room. A tattered rug was shoved into one corner, along with a busted-out basket. He scanned the area and his gaze lit upon a roll of filthy burlap sacks.

He patted the horse on his nose and then squatted down beside the stove. The pipe was missing and someone had obviously worked out some aggression on the cast iron device, knocking it a-kilter. Ezra pulled open the stove's door and seemed satisfied.

"Chaucer, dear friend, have you ever heard the expression 'a horse of a different color'?"

Continue to the final third