Nathan had left Ezra on Chaucer with the full intention of letting him
swing if something happened. He had seen the body in the fire and the
man dangling in the nearby tree. The picture of the boy being hung and
the abusive words coming from Ezra’s mouth kept playing over and over
again in his mind. He had turned his back on the gambler and proceeded
to help the others take out the rest of the outlaws. A shot from behind
had made him turn around again, but the perpetrator had been taken out
by a shot from either Buck or JD. That was when he had seen Ezra urging
Chaucer forward, until he was hanging by his neck, effectively killing
himself. Seeing how Ezra was willingly giving up his own life for his
horse made him realize the gambler couldn’t have been the one
responsible for the body in the fire. His friend couldn’t do that kind
of thing. Once that word, ’friend’, had entered his mind, he knew he
couldn’t let Ezra die. Not like this. Then he heard the mad laughter
coming from the man who had tried to hang Ezra. Nathan knew
instinctively that this was the man responsible for all of this
depravity. Maybe he was even the one leading Ezra into this sick world.
Ezra would be punished for his sins, but not by this madman.
Nathan shot Morgan, and then ran over and cut the rope holding the
swinging gambler. Ezra dropped like a stone, but Nathan could see he
still couldn’t breathe. The healer forced his hand into the tight space
between the gambler’s neck and the rope, loosening it. Nathan looked at
the struggling man, feeling sympathy for him, but when Ezra looked back
at him he felt all the rage and anger slam into him once again. He got
up and walked away, leaving the man with his own demons.
****
Ezra didn’t know how long he had been lying on the ground, before he saw
Vin and Josiah kneeling next to him.
“Oh, Lord, son. What happened to you?” Josiah asked as he started
untying Ezra’s hands and removing the rope around his neck.
“NATHAN, Ezra’s hurt,” Vin called out before he put his hands on the
still bleeding wound on Ezra’s leg. Ezra whimpered in pain, and once
again his throat constricted. He momentarily panicked as his abused
throat refused to let the air in. Josiah pinned him firmly to the
ground, speaking soothing words. “Easy, Ezra, it’s all right. Relax,
son.”
“Nathan, where the hell are ya?” Vin yelled again. The angry words
caused Chris to look up from his work of rounding up the last remaining
prisoners. He saw Nathan with Buck, trying to soothe the terrified woman
and her children. Then he looked at Vin and Josiah and saw the battered
form of their friend being held between the two men. He knew Nathan was
angry with Ezra, probably ignoring them on purpose. Chris would not
stand by, though, and watch Ezra suffering any more than was necessary.
“Nathan, get your butt over to Ezra now,” he said in a deadly tone,
brooking no arguments. Still, Nathan was about to protest, until he saw
the look in the gunslinger’s eyes. He realized he would be escorted over
there at gunpoint, if he didn’t go voluntarily. Nathan angrily released
a frightened child into both her mother’s and Buck’s care, before going
back to the Southerner. Some of his anger disappeared as he took a good
look at his former friend.
Ezra was black and blue, bleeding at the nose and mouth, his throat
swollen and bruised from the rope and his leg still bleeding. He could
see the pain in Ezra’s eyes and his healer’s instincts kicked in.
“JD, get my bag, and start boiling some water,” he said to the youth,
who had helped Chris round up the prisoners. In a fit of deliberate
cruelty and self righteousness, he decided not to give the gambler any
painkillers before he started. “I need to get the bullet out first, then
check out his other injuries.”
For the next hour Nathan worked on Ezra’s body, removing the bullet from
the leg and bandaging it, wrapping his broken ribs and cleaning up his
cuts and bruises. He knew he was still taking out some of his anger and
frustration on the man, as he ran his hands expertly, but rather roughly
over Ezra’s body, eliciting a pained moan from the man underneath his
fingers.
“Aren’t you being a bit rough on ‘im, Nathan?” Vin asked softly from his
place beside the gambler, where he was holding the man’s hand.
“I can’t help him hurting, Vin,” Nathan replied. “Seems like they did a
number on him. Broke a couple of ribs and gave him a few bruises. Leg’s
gonna be alright, though. Bullet didn’t hit any major veins. Throat’s
gonna be bruised and swollen for some time as well. He won’t be able to
talk until the swelling goes down,” he said with a certain satisfaction.
“Now, excuse me, I need to go see to the womenfolk.”
“Ya ain’t gona give him something for the pain?” Vin asked, bewildered.
He had thought Nathan had held back on his usual noxious brew while he
dug out the bullet, because Ezra was too weak to tolerate it. Now he
wasn’t so sure. Nathan seemed a bit too happy about Ezra’s suffering.
“I haven’t got all the necessary ingredients with me right now. Until we
get back, I can’t make my tea. He’ll just have to wait until then,”
Nathan said. For a moment he seemed to waver indecisively, looking down
at his patient. Then he turned around and walked back to the women, whom
Buck seemed to be handling just fine. Vin looked at the healer’s
retreating back and shook his head. His eyes met Josiah’s sad ones over
Ezra’s suffering body.
“Seems to me brother Nathan has a few demons that brother Ezra is going
to pay for.”
”Meaning ya don’t believe him,” Vin said. Josiah didn’t say anything,
just grabbed Ezra’s hand harder, when the gambler moaned.
“How is he?” Chris asked as he joined the two men. The prisoners had all
been tied up and JD was now keeping a close eye on them. The gunslinger
knelt down to put a hand on the younger man’s forehead, feeling the heat
rise off him.
“Been beat up pretty good. Got two busted ribs, a bullet to the leg and
a sore throat. He won’t be able to talk, but Nate reckon’s he’ll be fine
with some rest. Says he doesn’t have any more of his tea, though, so
Ez’ll have to suffer until we get ‘im back home,” Vin said darkly and
stood up, releasing his hold on the gambler’s hand. As Ezra started to
moan, Chris quickly picked up the freed hand, and the southerner quieted
back down again. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, the men
couldn’t help but smile at the gambler’s reaction. This was just more
proof that they were breaking through the enigmatic man’s defenses.
“I’m gonna go get the wagon,” Vin stated. The family’s wagon had been
left in a corner of the camp, the mules still tied to it. He brought it
back and the three men got Ezra into it, placing him on the madras’s the
family had. They used their own bedrolls to prop him up and Vin crawled
inside to make Ezra as comfortable as possible, letting his friend use
his lap as a pillow. The two shocked children were placed in front of
Nathan and Buck on their horses. The mother was seated outside, next to
JD, who held the reins of the wagon. None of the womenfolk had said
anything yet, all still too shocked at what had happened. Chris had
bundled up the boy’s badly burned body in a couple of blankets and tied
it behind his horse. The father’s body had been placed behind Josiah’s
saddle.
****
The ride home felt like an eternity for Ezra. The pain in his leg and
his throat were so great he silently wished for one of Nathan’s dreadful
concoctions. He usually hated the stuff, but it was in situations like
these he really learned to appreciate the healer’s knowledge of healing
plants. But Nathan hadn’t seen to him since he was placed in the wagon.
Vin quietly told him Nathan didn’t have anything to make a potion with
right now, since he had run out of some of the herbs. Ezra just nodded,
then wished he hadn’t. Even that small motion seemed to set his body on
fire. Though his companion tried to shield him as much as possible from
the potholes in the road, Ezra felt every little bump jarring through
his body. One rather nasty bump had him screaming out in pain, making
Larabee stop the wagon and order Nathan to take another look at him.
Still the healer just said he had to ride it out. Nathan’s behavior
puzzled Ezra. Surely he couldn’t still be mad at him for gambling with
the black ranch hands. It wasn’t like it was the first time they had
come to blows over his gambling. Nathan had always calmed down the next
day, never treating him like this before. The healer never ignored him
when he was hurt, not even when he stole the ten thousand dollars. Ezra
figured it had to have to do with Clay’s death, but he wasn’t sure why
the healer was taking it out on him. Maybe Nathan had realized it was
Ezra’s failed plan that had gotten the boy killed. However, the constant
pain kept Ezra from thinking too hard on it. Instead he had to use much
of his reserve to try not to throw up.
****
Back in Four Corners, Buck and Chris carefully carried Ezra into
Nathan’s clinic. Josiah took the women to Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Travis,
hoping they could ease their trauma, since both women knew what it was
like to lose a husband to violence. Vin went to unhitch the mules from
the wagon and take care of the horses, while JD led the prisoners over
to the jail. Once Chris and Buck had helped Ezra unto the cot, Nathan
had assured them he could manage by himself. The two gunslingers had
then taken off to help JD, and to inform the undertaker of his new
customers.
Ezra was in agony as he lay on the small cot in the clinic. His leg
burned, although that particular pain had eased a bit, especially if he
didn’t move at all. The worst pain of all was in his throat. Each breath
felt like he was trying to swallow a sack of dust. His throat was
completely dry, while the swelling made it difficult to breathe,
producing small wheezing sounds. He could see Nathan standing by his
small table, where all his medicine books lay, apparently pondering
something. Ezra wished the healer would brew up some of his bad tasting
tea. He hadn’t realized how much good those teas did, until he was
actually denied them. He missed their soothing, relaxing effect. He had
never before known the healer not to have a full supply of his
ever-present herbs with him when he rode out. Especially if there was
any chance they would end up in a shootout. That puzzled the gambler.
But he suspected it might have something to do with the healer’s black
mood and deplorable treatment of him. Here in the clinic, Ezra just
hoped Nathan would find some mercy for him. He didn’t fancy the healer
re-bandaging his leg without giving him something to numb the terrible
pain.
Ezra moved a bit on the cot, trying to get more comfortable, but he gave
up when a mind-numbing pain shot through his leg again. In frustration
he slammed his hand against the bedding, trying to draw Nathan’s
attention. When Nathan finally turned around, Ezra put all the begging
he could into the look he sent the healer.
****
Nathan had followed Chris and Buck up to his clinic, although he would
rather have gone with Josiah and the women. Physically, the womenfolk
would be fine. Mentally, they had suffered a great trauma. Right now
Josiah and rest would be the best remedy for them.
After Chris and Buck had left, Nathan had taken a few minutes to compose
himself. Staring unseeingly down at his medical books, he tried to
remember why in the hell he wanted to help people. Right now, all he
wanted to do was strangle the person who needed his help most. So far he
had done his best to stay away from Ezra, even refusing to make his
pain-relieving tea. All the while he told his conscience the gambler
deserved everything he got. After all, Ezra had brought all this on
himself. Nathan had bandaged his leg and cleaned his wounds. The healer
had just told one little white lie to the others. There was no way in
hell he would ride anywhere with them without an ample supply of
medicine and bandages.
Nathan had trouble reconciling his former friend with the man he had
seen today. He hoped to God there was a reasonable explanation for the
gambler’s behavior, but he doubted it strongly. How would Ezra be able
to explain hanging a young man, shooting and then burning him? He just
couldn’t fathom the absolute cruelty he had witnessed.
He was pulled out of his dark thoughts when Ezra moaned and slapped a
hand down on the cot. A pair of pain-filled green eyes stared at him,
eyes begging for Nathan to take the pain away. Nathan wondered how the
man could kill a black boy one moment and then expect help from another
black man the next. It almost made him sick to think how the gambler had
him fooled for so long. Still he couldn’t withhold the tea any longer.
Even if his conscience wasn’t killing him for letting a man suffer,
Chris and Josiah would be back at some point. They would start asking
questions if their friend were still in pain.
Nathan took a deep breath, then started pulling out the ingredients he
needed. As images of the cruel hanging and the burnt body resurfaced, he
deliberately made the tea weaker than usual and even fouler tasting. It
wouldn’t harm Ezra, but it would taste like hell, only taking the edge
off his pain.
“Drink this,” Nathan said, and helped the younger man in the bed into a
sitting position. Ezra took one careful sip, then screwed up his face in
distaste. If he had been able to talk, Nathan knew he wouldn’t have
heard the end of it. Thankfully Ezra could not. “All of it, Ezra,” he
ordered harshly, pressing the cup to the con man’s lips once again. Ezra
took another small swallow, before turning his head away, refusing to
drink anymore. “All right, have it your way, but it’s gonna hurt when I
clean and re-bandage your leg,” he said in a hard cold voice. Ezra
didn’t answer, just looked wistfully out the window, pain still etched
in his face. Nathan almost felt sorry for him, remembering how different
things had been between them just the other day. Then he shook off those
feelings and went to get his equipment. No need to waste any compassion
or guilt on that good for nothing gambler. When he had finished his
task, he dealt Ezra a last blow as he removed his deck of cards from his
jacket. Ezra tried to grab for them, but was still too weak from pain
and exhaustion to react fast enough. “Won’t be needing these right now,”
Nathan said, enjoying the look of desolation on Ezra’s face.
****
Ezra had almost thrown up when he tasted Nathan’s tea. Never in his life
had he tasted anything so foul. The liquid burned in his throat and even
the smell was nauseating. When Nathan urged him to drink some more, he
took another tentative sip and then turned his head away. He couldn’t
get any more down without fearing it would come straight back up again.
Nathan’s teas never tasted very good, but this was just awful. He would
rather stand the pain than be subjected to that again.
All the time the healer worked on his leg, Ezra kept his eyes averted,
staring out the window and into the darkness. He couldn’t bear seeing
those accusing eyes again. When Nathan finally finished inflicting his
agonizing chore on Ezra, the gambler had wanted to reach out for his
ever-present deck of cards. He needed something to keep his mind
occupied, besides the pain and the guilt. But Nathan had snatched his
cards away from him before Ezra could reach them. Losing his beloved
cards almost made him cry. In the end he just shut his eyes and tried to
fall asleep. Usually Nathan’s potion would have done the trick by now,
but Ezra figured rest was another thing Nathan didn’t think he deserved.
Ezra could only agree with him, knowing Clay’s mother and sisters would
get no rest this night either. The gambler kept his eyes on the darkness
as he listened to Nathan moving about while cleaning up. Eventually he
settled down at his table, bringing his oil-lamp with him. It took
almost an hour before Ezra succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep.
****
It was a couple of minutes past midnight before everything was calm in
town and Chris was able to enter the small clinic. Although the other
gunslingers were eager to know how Ezra was and what had happened, he
had sent them all to bed. All that is, except for Josiah, who was still
with the women. Chris figured Ezra needed some rest and the others
barging into the clinic wouldn’t allow for that. He found Nathan sitting
in his chair, reading in one of his medical books. The younger man
joined him as Chris went over to look at the sleeping patient.
“How is he?” he asked, noticing the pale skin and that the pain,
although not as pronounced as earlier, was still etched in Ezra’s facial
features.
“He’s gonna be fine. I cleaned and re-bandaged his leg, then gave him
something for the pain. He should be able to walk to his own hanging,”
Nathan said disgustedly.
Chris looked at the healer, then shook his head silently. Nathan was in
one of his self-righteous moods right now, and unable or unwilling to
see what Chris and the others saw--that never in a million years could
Ezra hurt a child the way the Harris boy had been hurt. Ezra was a con
man, a cheat, and someone, who more often than not, brought trouble down
on the seven because of his gambling habit and his arrogant attitude.
Chris had often had the urge to just shoot the irritating man. When the
one-time father had seen the boy in the fire, he had been filled with
anger and hate. Images of another fire and another small boy burnt
forced to the surface of his mind. But the anger had never been directed
at the conman, who was about to be hanged. Chris had known instinctively
that what Nathan had seen had to be one of Ezra’s cons. That con had now
gone terribly wrong and was about to be the death of the man.
As they took care of the prisoners, both JD and Buck had expressed their
doubts about the gambler’s guilt. And Chris knew Vin felt the same way.
Josiah thought of Ezra as a stray lamb, one that needed guidance back to
its fold, back to its rightful place in society. Even if it hadn’t been
for that, Chris knew Josiah would never believe Ezra had killed the
Harris boy. All they could do now was wait. Wait for the swelling around
Ezra’s throat to go down, so he could tell them what had really
happened, or for Mrs. Harris to come back to her senses. As it was, she
was simply too grief stricken to communicate anything right now.
It was late morning the next day, when Ezra finally came around again.
The gambler had developed a slight fever overnight, and Chris had spent
the hours cooling him down with a cloth. The gunslinger now sat reading
the Clarion. Once he realized the patient was awake and had turned his
head to look at him, Chris laid down the paper focusing his attention on
Ezra.
“Want some water?” he asked, then filled a cup before Ezra could nod his
reply. The leader carefully helped him to sit up and slowly swallow the
cool liquid. Chris noticed how the gambler started out by taking a
small, tentative sip, before giving in to the soothing water. Ezra’s
throat was most likely still bothering him, he figured.
“Here, Nathan told me to give you this when you woke up,” Chris said and
motioned towards the kettle which held one of Nathan’s teas. He didn’t
like the way Ezra suddenly turned green and started shaking his head,
until the pain made him stop.
“Dammit, Ezra, don’t be such a stubborn ass. It’ll take the pain away,
and help with the swelling.” Ezra just clamped his mouth shut and turned
his head away. He knew the obstinate gambler wasn’t exactly fond of
Nathan’s concoctions, hell, none of them were, but he had never seen him
outright refuse it. Bitch about it, yes, but he always drank it in the
end. But not this time. Chris decided to let him be. He didn’t know what
was going on, and until Ezra could talk again he would just have to
wait. Although waiting was one thing he was never very good at doing.
Once Ezra was placed back against the pillows, he looked around the
room. A frown marred his face, which was soon replaced by a wince, as
the bruises protested.
“JD and Vin are watching the town and the prisoners. Buck’s sleeping and
Josiah is probably with the Harris family. Nathan has gone to get us
some breakfast,” Chris answered the gambler’s unvoiced question. Just as
he finished, Nathan came in, bearing a tray with a plate, a cup and a
bowl. The plate was filled with eggs, bacon and beans, while the bowl
held a thin broth, obviously meant for the gambler.
“Here ya go, Chris,” Nathan said and handed the plate and the cup of
coffee to the gunslinger. He lifted the bowl off the tray and sat the
tray on the floor, before handing Ezra the bowl. Ezra refused to take
it, and Nathan set it down on the small table next to the bed. “Suit
yourself. If ya ain’t wantin’ ta eat, I ain’t gonna force ya,” he said
harshly. “Going to go over to the undertaker and get those funerals
taken care of,” he said to Chris as he walked out, the door slamming
behind him. Chris gritted his teeth, hoping the healer would soon get
back to his senses. Ezra just bowed his head and looked down at his
hands, no doubt wishing he had a deck of cards with him. Chris wondered
what had happened to them. He would see to it that Ezra got one as soon
as possible.
“Stop being so damn stubborn, Ezra,” Chris said. “Won’t help you get
better if you keep refusing to eat. What’s the matter with you?” He took
a long look at the slumped form and the downcast eyes. He and could
almost feel the guilt emanating from the man. Damn! Why hadn’t he picked
up on that sooner?
“Ain’t your fault the boy died, Ezra,” he said quietly, causing the
gambler to look up with a shocked look on his face, before the mask
slammed back. “None of us think that. Don’t know what exactly happened,
but I suspect it will be an interesting tale.” Ezra just gave an
ungentlemanly snort, then winced and waved his hand at the closed door.
“Yeah, well, Nathan does seem to have put his ass in a beehive, but
he’ll come around, Ezra. Trust me.”
He was rewarded with a small smile from the gambler. Even more
rewarding, Ezra reached out for the bowl with the cooling broth. He
sniffed it tentatively, before bringing a small spoonful to his lips,
sipping gently. Chris put it down to Ezra’s throat still hurting, but he
had a feeling Nathan and his concoctions might have played a part in the
gambler’s cautious manners. He would have to have a talk with the healer
later. He wouldn’t tolerate this kind of behavior from the stubborn man.
****
After Ezra had finished, he put the bowl down on the floor. He had to
admit he had been somewhat hungry, but he was afraid Nathan had done
something with it again. Chris’ insistence that he should eat, along
with the man’s faith in Ezra’s innocence, had prompted the gambler to at
least try it. After checking it out, Ezra had deemed it edible and
finished almost all of it. Hearing from the gunslinger that he, as well
as JD, Buck, Vin and Josiah, all still had faith in him, that they never
believed he had done anything wrong, boosted Ezra’s spirit. He remained
sad that Clay had died, but perhaps Chris was right and it wasn’t his
fault. At least, although traumatized, the mother and the daughters had
made it out alive.
Ezra looked over at Chris, who was sitting on the hard chair next to the
bed. He had finished eating as well and had gone back to reading the
newspaper. Downright deplorable company, Ezra thought, and wished JD or
even Buck were here as well. They would entertain him with some of their
jokes or stories. While his throat still hurt, even more after having
used it for eating, his leg was also starting to act up again. He wished
he had his deck of cards, so he could focus on something else. He tried
to shift in the bed to find a better position, eliciting a groan of pain
and causing Chris to look up from his paper.
”You still hurting?” he asked softly. “You want some of Nathan’s tea?”
Ezra contemplated trying the odious tea again, but decided not to
venture it. He had just had something to eat, and didn’t look forward to
throwing it all up again. The gambler just wished he still had his cards
with him. Damn Nathan! He shook his head, causing Chris to frown at him,
but fortunately the gunslinger decided not to press the issue.
A short time later Buck and Vin made their appearance in the small
clinic. JD was still watching the prisoners. Buck would go relieve him
later, so he could come over when Vin wanted to head out on patrol. They
talked for a bit, mostly making jokes about Ezra, now that he couldn’t
talk back. In between the lines Ezra could read their concern and
support. He didn’t show it, but he appreciated it immensely,
nonetheless. After they had gone, JD came over, followed by Nathan. The
black man still refused to talk to him, only telling Chris rather loudly
about how he had arranged the funeral of young Clay Harris and his
father. This brought the guilt back to Ezra, placing a dark mood over
the clinic. A shroud that wasn’t broken until the door burst open and
Josiah stepped through, escorting Mrs. Harris inside.
“Josiah, what are you doing?” Nathan exclaimed, thinking the preacher
had lost his marbles. Why on earth would he want to show the shocked
woman her son’s killer, so soon after his death?
“Mrs. Harris would like to see Ezra. Hope you are up for some company,
son,” Josiah replied. Then he escorted the frail woman over to the chair
JD had just vacated. Nathan was about to protest as he looked at the
woman with tears running down her cheeks. He couldn’t believe Josiah
would let her do this. But the first words out of the grieving widow’s
mouth stilled his protest.
“I…I came to thank you, Mr. Standish. If it hadn’t been for you, I
know…I know what would have happened to my little girls and myself. I
know how you tried to save my son at your own expense, and I am so sorry
it ended like this. But if you hadn’t come, I would not only have lost
my husband and son, but my two little girls as well. I will be forever
thankful to you,” she said, then broke down sobbing. Ezra reached out,
patting her back gently, embarrassed about the display in front of him.
He was unsure what to do to help the grieving woman. Josiah gave him a
toothy smile, before taking the crying woman into his arms. When she had
entered the clinic, the rest of the men had quietly left. Except for
Nathan, who now looked like someone had just slapped him.
“Would someone mind explaining to me what’s going on? I’m sorry to be so
blunt, ma’am, but I… I saw Ezra hang your son.” At that statement Ezra’s
green eyes flew up to meet the healer’s brown ones. Nathan could see a
mixture of surprise, understanding and sadness there, before Ezra
averted his eyes. Mrs. Harris took the handkerchief offered by Josiah,
drying her eyes, before looking at Nathan.
“I don’t understand what you are talking about, Mr. Jackson,” she
sniffed through her tears. “My son was not hung, but shot. I thought he
had been killed when they first attacked the wagon. They took us to
their camp and tied us up. Those men treated us like animals, all the
while shouting obscene things to me and my girls. And then…and then they
hung poor George. Strung him up like he was nothing, just an animal to
get rid of….” It took her a couple of minutes to get herself back under
control. She smiled tearfully as Josiah patted her back and whispered
soothing words to her. When she continued, it was in a stronger voice
than before, determined to get through it. ”After…well, then Mr.
Standish showed up and they started playing cards, leaving us alone. But
then some of the guards came back, dragging my poor boy with them. They
started shouting and hitting Mr. Standish, before ordering him to shoot
my son. He wouldn’t, so that terrible man did it before he kicked my boy
into the fire. Then they tied up Mr. Standish and dragged him over to
his horse, so they could hang him. And they would have, had you all not
showed up. I owe you everything.”
Nathan knew that if he bit any harder on his cheek, blood would soon
flow. But dammit, he should have known. He should have known it was all
a goddamn ruse created by the goddamn conman. He should have known his
friend would never do something like that. He should have known…hell,
all the others knew Ezra was no cold-blooded killer. Why the hell hadn’t
he seen it himself? He didn’t realize he had tensed up completely, until
Josiah started escorting the woman out of the clinic.
“Come on, Mrs. Harris. Let’s get you back to your girls. I am sure they
would like to see their mother right now.” The crying woman nodded,
thanked the gambler a few more times, then let Josiah lead her out.
The closing of the door spurred Nathan into action. He started getting
the ingredients together for one of his concoctions. One that would not
only relieve the pain Ezra was feeling, but help ease the swelling as
well. This time he added plenty of honey and some lemon drops, making
sure it would taste even better than the ones he usually served. In all
the time it took for him to get it ready, he never once turned around to
look at his friend. He could feel Ezra’s eyes on his back. When he
finally came over with the tea, Ezra looked at him with a mixture of
amusement and sadness. Nathan couldn’t think what the hell was funny
about all this, but he did have an idea about the sadness, and he felt
ashamed. He gently helped prop up the gambler, so he could hold the tea.
“Here, Ezra, this will help with the pain and the swelling,” he said.
Ezra looked at it questioningly causing Nathan to give a nervous laugh.
“I promise it tastes all right, Ezra. If ya want, I’ll even drink some
of it first myself.” Ezra scrutinized him for a moment, then shook his
head slightly and brought the tea to his lips. His face softened after
the first taste, apparently happy with the lemon and honey. Nathan
resolved to keep that in mind the next time the gambler needed his help.
Ezra tried to stop halfway through it. It was hell on his sore throat,
trying to swallow like that, but Nathan forced him to keep going. “All
of it, Ezra,” he admonished, and Ezra reluctantly drank the rest. “Good,
now get some rest. I’ll be back in half an hour to change the bandages
again.” Ezra nodded, his eyes already starting to close. Just before he
succumbed to sleep, a deck of cards was pressed into his hand, bringing
a soft smile to his face.
****
Sitting in front of the saloon, Ezra groaned as he saw Nathan striding
towards him. It had been six days since Ezra had almost been hung. Five
days since he had realized why Nathan had been so angry with him. Ever
since then, the healer had been his constant shadow. Making healing
teas, fluffing his pillows, hell, even helping him getting dressed.
Until Ezra had threatened to beat him with his crutches, not so much in
words as in gesture, since he still couldn’t talk very well. The
swelling had come down considerably and he was able to hold short--very
short—conversations. Too much talk and his throat became parched. He
would start coughing, followed soon after by wheezing, something a
gentleman would never do.
At first Ezra had been saddened by what the healer had thought of him.
After mulling it over for a while, he had come to the conclusion that if
he had been presented with the same scenario as Nathan, he would have
thought the same thing. Not if it involved the other six, but Ezra had
never been like the others. So it was understandable that Nathan could
believe it about him, even though the others didn’t. In the end he had
just put it down to a plan working a bit too well and then again, not at
all. He still felt guilty about young Clay’s death, although no one else
seemed to blame him, not even the boy’s family. Josiah and Buck had
escorted them to Eagle Bend after the funerals. The rancher, who had
first hired Clay’s father, agreed to take the rest of the family in
after hearing what had happened to them. As the woman could cook as well
as her husband had been able to, he was just as pleased with that
arrangement.
“Hey Ezra”, Nathan said, as he approached. “Mind if I join you for a
spell?”
“It’s a free country, Mr. Jackson,” Ezra replied. There was no malice in
his voice, just tiredness. He only wanted to be alone. Nathan looked at
him for a moment, then sat down in the chair beside him.
“Gotta talk to ya, Ezra. Got some things I need ta say,” Nathan stated,
but didn’t look up from where he was nervously pulling at his fingers.
“If it is about this misunderstanding, Mr. Jackson, I assure you, I
understand perfectly. It was as much my own fault. I should have come up
with a better plan. One that wouldn’t end up with young Master Harris
getting killed.”
“Weren’t anything wrong with yer plan, Ezra. Apart from the fact that ya
almost got yer fool self killed. Just bad luck, is all. Ya couldn’t have
known those bastards would go back, trying to set the body on fire. Ya
managed to save the rest of the family, which is more than anyone could
expect from a lone man against fifteen others. I don’t think I could
have done it myself.”
”Surely, Mr. Jackson, with the right plan…”
“Maybe, but the problem is I probably wouldn’t have come up with the
right plan. Likelier I’d have rushed in and got myself killed along with
the womenfolk as well. Don’t think I’ve ever said this, Ezra, but I
really appreciate that sharp mind of yours. Not always what ya do with
it, mind ya, but I do appreciate it nonetheless. Just as I appreciate
the man behind it.” Nathan finally looked up, catching Ezra’s eyes and
chuckling a bit at the stunned look on the gambler’s face.
“I…I um…Thank you, Mr. Jackson…I…” the conman stuttered.
“I’m real sorry that I mistrusted you this time, and I swear that won’t
happen again. Guess I just had some trouble, after seeing what happened.
I’m a man who believes what he sees. This time what I saw was wrong, and
I jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry. I can’t promise I won’t yell at ya
again, but no more smelly, bad tasting tea when yer hurt. I’m downright
ashamed about that. Ain’t no way for a healer to behave. Chris gave me a
good tongue-lashing about that when he found out,” the healer said with
a self-deprecating smile.
“But what I wanted to say,” Nathan continued before Ezra would get a
chance to interrupt him, “is that I was the only one, Ezra. None of the
others believed you could have killed that boy. I know this ain’t
exactly the kind of town yer used to, but it has got something the
others haven’t got. Real friends, Ezra. Know that might not be enough to
make ya stay, but I just wanted ya to know that.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jackson. I appreciate it. I must admit I am finding more
and more things appealing about this quaint little town,” Ezra said
hoarsely, then sniffed, much to his own horror. Luckily, Nathan didn’t
seem to notice, or maybe he just chose not to. In any case, Ezra managed
to blow his nose, before tucking away his handkerchief, without any
comments from the healer.
“You interested in a game of poker, Ezra?” Nathan asked, getting up from
his chair.” Know about a couple of black cowhands and a black healer who
would be interested in losing some of their money to ya.”
“I would be delighted, Mr. Jackson,” Ezra laughed. Nathan might not stop
complaining about him, but at least he had a small respite now. And he
would even be able to make money on it. Maybe the plan hadn’t been so
bad after all.
