Ezra Standish didn't care, he wasn't bothered by it, why should he be, it was something that had happened before and will happen again. With the life he lead, it was bound to happen, but sometimes it wasn't true, he didn't cheat every time he sat down to play poker. Other players assumed that because he was a professional gambler that he would be cheating, especially if he was winning. They didn't stop to think that maybe they were playing badly, no, they pointed their guilty finger towards him. This was normal for him. Or so he kept telling himself. They had wanted to stay on for a few more hours anyway. Why? Who the hell knew, because he didn't and he was sure that they didn't. The town had been non-prosperous, for him anyway, he'd been run out of town by his own friends before he could win enough to make it worthwhile. The saloon was small, the patrons poor, the whisky sour. In simple terms it was a town of hell and why anyone lived there was beyond his comprehension.

Chris Larabee though would tell you a different story. He would tell you that Ezra Standish had been accused of cheating and he had ordered him to leave before someone tried to hang him. They would stay on to finish the business they had gone there for and meet up with him back in Four Corners. Chris knew that Ezra would tell you that it was all a lie and it had been his idea to leave and as far as Ezra was concerned Mr Larabee had a way of exaggerating when it came to the truth.

And now here he was, gambler, con-man, excruciating-pain-in-the-ass to one Mr Chris Larabee, riding home on his own, with no-one to talk to but himself and his horse; it wasn't even his horse. You could talk to a horse, anyone could talk to a horse if they tried hard enough, but getting the horse to talk back was a bit of a problem. So Ezra was resigned to talking to himself but even he had tired of his own voice. For the past five miles he had been riding in total silence. And for the past two miles he had been riding through a downpour of cold rain and blowing winds.

If he had been able to read the skies like Vin Tanner he wouldn't have left the town at all. He would have hidden himself away from the townsfolk and waited it out. He wasn't a smart man when it came to mother nature, sometimes he even thought of her as a cold hard bitch that liked to take her anger out on unsuspecting city folk- namely him - who were just trying to enjoy the open environment.

Town was only two miles away so he continued with the clothes he wore that were now soaked to the skin. His black crown hat no longer protected his face from the rain, it now soaked through it. Droplets of water ran down his face and the back of his neck. This was why, as far as he was concerned, that mother nature was a bitch.

So was luck. The horse he was riding slipped in the mud, he fell to his side and try as he might Ezra couldn't stay on. He pulled his leg from the stirrup so it wouldn't get caught under the horse when it fell. But it didn't fall, only a Southern gambler who was down on his luck fell. When he was clear of the saddle and free falling, the horse managed to get it's footing and stayed upright.

Ezra struck the ground, the mud splattering upwards and onto his face. His head found the only rock that was laying in the vicinity. The blow causing him to loose consciousness. The gambler lay on the ground with the rain falling onto his face and his horse standing beside him. A strange expression was worn by the animal as it watched the man that seemed to be incapable of staying on a horse. If it could talk it would say something like this; 'stupid human, look at it, lying in the mud and rain. Look who's talking, think I'll wonder over to that large tree and stand under it. Yeah, that's it, you just stay there like the stupid human that you are'.

Ezra Standish did just that. Not because the horse told him to but because his injury wanted him to. Injuries could be nasty like that. He lay oblivious to the lone rider that was heading towards him.

Mortimer Johnson rode the unknown path towards an unknown town within an unknown distance. He had been riding like this since the day his only son had been killed by a man that he now searched for to claim his rightful vengeance. He had no idea who the man was, or what he looked like, his only information was that the person he was looking for was a gambler, a man in his late twenties, brown hair, and good-looking. A man who was willing to cheat or con a man out of his life savings. His son had died when he accused the gambler of cheating, the man's experience had out drawn the Johnson boy who on his last birthday had turned twenty four. If he was still alive his son would be twenty nine.

He was a lonely and angry old man. The loss of his wife had made him even more bitter. His need for vengeance driving the love she felt for him from her heart. She understood that her son had been murdered but she had also wanted to continue living, it's what her son would have wanted. Carl would not have wanted his father to waste his life looking for the man who had killed him.

The rain blurred his already fading vision, his old ragged hat didn't provide any protection. The slicker that covered his clothes was full of small holes which allowed the water to find a way in to the material beneath it. He didn't mind the rain, it was a way of cleansing one's soul but the warm weather and dust soon darkened it again. He had always injured the rain. So had his son. Mortimer often wished that he found the guilty party on a rainy day, to him it seem appropriate.

He didn't see the body until his horse had nearly trodden on it. The chestnut balked and tried to step sideways so it could avoid the object on the ground. It really didn't feel like stepping over it, besides, it reminded of a human. Mortimer pulled at the reins to bring the horse back into it's original position. He was jerked sideways when the horse refused and that's when he saw the unmoving form. He allowed the horse to follow it's own path around what he thought was a corpse but then the head rolled to the side. The old man got off his horse and squatted down next to the unconscious man.

The red jacket caught his attention, the expensive vest, the watch; this man was a gambler. Hope filled his should. His shaking hand reached forward and gripped the man's jaw, he pulled the face towards him so he could get a better look at the features. Good-looking, looks to be in his early thirties which would have made him the right age for the man he was looking for. He searched the pockets but found nothing. His eyes searched for a horse and found it standing under a tree. The horse was looking at him, it seemed to know what he wanted and shifted away from the tree. Mortimer was going to have to be careful, the animal looked as though it was going to run.

"Easy there fella, just want to find out who this guy is." his voice was soft but held a sight husky tone.

His boots slipped in the mud as he made his way to the horse. He continually put out his hands to stop himself from falling flat on his face. He kept his voice low, keeping the horse calm as he got closer to it. Once he reached the animal he grabbed the saddle bags and tore them from the horses back. He no longer cared about the animal.

He tested the weight of the bags with his right hand, they weren't heavy. After looking at the gambler to make sure he was still out he sat down where the horse had been and began to rummage through the man's effects. There was still no money to be found, maybe he wasn't the one he was looking for. Then a thought struck him. Some of the gamblers he had confronted over the years hid their winnings in other places, such as their boots. He would check when he was finished with the saddle bags.

A letter fell from a shirt that he had lifted from the bag, he picked it up and glanced over it. When his interest had been caught he returned to the beginning and read it thoroughly. The anger and hatred he had felt for the man who murdered his son began to grow. It happened every time he found the person who he thought had been the murderer. His brown eyes lifted, he wanted to pull his gun and put a bullet in the man right there and then. But he wanted him to be awake, to remember who Carl Johnson was, to admit that he had gunned down his only child.

Words jumped out of the letter; go back to conning, you need to cheat to keep in practise. I have a con going and I want you to join me. This man was not only a gambler who cheats, he was also a conman. This had to be him, he fit the description perfectly. He only had to get him to confess before he killed him. Mortimer was a good man, he would shoot the man if he didn't confess, it wasn't in him to do it, he had to be sure the man was guilty before he put a bullet between his eyes. The anger he felt had to be controlled.

He folded the letter and put it in his pocket, he would need it later. The saddle bags were thrown aside and the horse that obviously belonged to the gambler was scared off. There wouldn't be a means of escape, his own horse had been trained to only allow one rider to be on it's back. His movements became quick as he rushed towards the man, he lifted him under the arms and dragged him back to the tree. A groan told him that the man was semi-conscious. He didn't care, why should he, the man was only a gambler, a man that robbed people of their money by cheating.

Mortimer let go and allowed him to fall the rest of the way to the ground. A grunt came from the form as it rolled over onto it's side. The older man sat down. There was some protection from the rain under the large branches that were thick with leaves. He would wait out the weather then move further away from the road. He didn't want the body to be found

Ezra knew his head was about to split open, there was no other reason for the pain that was emanating from it. Maybe it had already split open and the pain was the result. It wouldn't surprise him. Things like that happened to him all the time. And it was all because of Chris Larabee and the others. It was because of them that he had returned to the Indian village and then accept the offer by Judge Travis to stay on and protect the town. He had been injured more times since the day he met Larabee than he had all his life. It wasn't the way to live.

He forced his eyes open and saw a figure standing before him, his first thought was that it was one of his friends. Then he remembered that he had been on his own. They had allowed him to travel back to Four Corners without any company. He pushed himself backwards and a wave of dizziness assaulted him causing him to fall onto his back.

A face appeared above him, it said nothing, didn't help him, only stared at him. Ezra tried to remember what had happened, it took a few seconds, the horse had fallen, nearly fallen, he had been the one to fall. He lifted a hand and carefully felt the area on the back of his skull that hurt the most. The hand returned to the front of his face and he managed to make out the blood that slowly ran down his fingers. This wasn't good. He was injured and a stranger was staring at him.

"Can I help you with something?" Ezra asked him.

Mortimer frowned at the sound of the Southern accent. It hadn't been mentioned in the description he had been given. Maybe it didn't matter, most gamblers came from the South, it was only natural that the killer had an accent.

"Yeah but not now, later when your feeling better."

"Uh huh," Ezra muttered and closed his eyes. He wasn't feeling well at all.

Mortimer watched as the man fell back into unconscious. No, he couldn't help him like this, he wouldn't be aware of what was going to happen to him. He sat back down and realised that the rain had finally stopped. His eyes searched the darkening sky and saw the few stars that the clouds allowed to be seen. The weather was clearing up. He decided to take the opportunity to change his clothes for dry ones. He stood up and made his way to his horse, the animal was facing the direction he had come. The road was long and straight, he was surprised he hadn't seen the gambler earlier. But he saw something now. In the distance were two riders heading toward him. He had to get this man out of their view. If they saw him, they would help him.

He grabbed the unconscious man by the arms and began to drag him further away from the road. The path he chose was steep. The man was heavier than he looked. Mortimer glanced to the road and saw the men coming closer, he looked over his shoulder to the group of trees that were close to him. He dug deep down and used what strength he had, he'd made a mistake, he wasn't going to be able to make it. His body was too old, it was no longer able to do this sort of thing, he swore at his own stupidity. He wasn't going to make it, they would see him as they passed, they would want to know why he was dragging this man towards the woods. There would be no truthful answer, they wouldn't understand what he wanted and needed. Not everyone agreed with revenge.

It was going to have to wait until later, maybe the two riders won't see him, maybe they would continue to ride on. He couldn't take the chance. A whistle brought his horse to him, he let go of his burden and quickly lead his horse to the woods, making sure he went deep enough not to be seen. He would wait and watch, if the men took this man with them he would follow them and approach him later. It would be more difficult with people around but if he could get him alone then he could do what needed to be done. If death came for afterwards he wouldn't care. Life wasn't worth living without his family. If he died seeking his vengeance that would be all right. He would be able to see his son again.

Buck was doing his best to cheer up his friend. Chris was down, angry, but it had nothing to do with the death of his family. The entire situation was brought on by a gambler by the name of Ezra Standish. But they both knew it wasn't Ezra's fault. Chris had begun to hate the fact that people assumed that Ezra had cheated when playing poker and were willing to beat him to death or kill him outright with a bullet without proof. It was their choice to join the game, their choice to bet everything they had, but Ezra always made sure that the people he played against left the table with some money in their pockets. But why did they have to blame Ezra for their own faults.

Buck had understood when Chris ordered Ezra to return home but he didn't think Ezra had. The gambler still had trouble believing that they were looking out for him, protecting him. Ezra had the sort of life that made it hard for him to accept that someone else actually cared about him and about what happened to him. Buck was sure that Chris was going to drag the Southerner into a corner when they returned home and explain it to him, and not let him go until he accepted it.

They had followed Ezra once their business was completed. Chris knew Ezra's anger and hurt would fester so he wanted to put a stop to it as soon as he could. Buck agreed although it meant riding in the rain. Why not, Ezra had to do it.

He pulled is horse to a stop when he realised that Chris had turned off the path.

"Town's this way." Buck called out to him.

"Yeah but Ezra's over here." Chris had jumped off his horse and was running towards something only he could see.

Buck followed him, it was all he could do.

Chris had seen something that looked out of place. The ground was a mixture of green grass and dark mud. The red colour didn't blend in with its surrounding area. The red then turned into an object, a jacket, the same red jacket that Ezra wore. Chris' first thought was that someone from the town had caught up with him and did what he and Buck and tried to stop.

He stopped next to his friend, the face he stared down into was slack and pale. He could see no evidence of a gunshot wound but that didn't mean there wasn't one. Chris slowly collapsed to his knees and looked up when Buck finally joined him at Ezra's side. Together they turned the Southerner over, both of them having the same thoughts. No gunshot wounds to the back but they did see the blood that was beginning to congeal on the back of his head.

"What do you think happened?" Buck asked as he watched Chris probe the head wound.

"Could have fallen off his horse." Chris shrugged. "But there's nothing here for him to hit his head, maybe he was trying to get out of the rain."

Buck searched the area for the animal that Ezra had hired from the livery, his own horse was suffering from an injury and Ezra hadn't wanted to worsen it. "Can't see the horse."

"Could have been robbed." It seemed like a more plausible idea. "Why don't you take a look around while I try to clean this wound up. Then we'll take him home."

"Be right back."

Chris turned all of his attention to Ezra, he rolled the younger man back onto his back. He felt around the ribcage through the wet clothing for any damage and found none, but it didn't mean there wasn't any. Chris took off his jacket and laid it over Ezra's still form and left him to get some water and a shirt. His eyes followed Buck's movements as the ladies man picked up what he knew were Ezra's saddle bags.

"Someone's been through these and it wasn't Ezra, everything's just been thrown back in." Buck reported as he made his back to his fallen comrade.

"Any dry clothing that we can change Ezra into?" Chris asked as he made his way back to Ezra.

"Only a couple of shirts, nothing else." Buck answered.

"He can wear my jacket." Chris told him.

When Chris and Buck returned to Ezra they found him staring up at them. The green eyes then blinked in confusion. "Have I been out that long?"

"And how long is that Ezra?" Chris smiled down at him.

"A day or more . . . "

"You only left a few hours ago Ezra." Buck informed him.

Ezra turned to Buck, the confusion still filled his eyes, and now his handsome features. "But you're here, you wouldn't have left a few hours ago."

"We left as soon as we finished our business, wanted to make sure that you were all right." Chris explained. He would go into the explanation further when they go to back to town.

"I seemed to have fallen off that damn horse!" Ezra growled as he reached up and touched the back of his head.

"Lie still and shut up Ezra, we need to take care of this." Chris pulled the shaking hand and laid it back down beside the gambler.

"I want to go home and go to bed." Ezra sighed.

"Is that how you shut up?" Buck admonished him.

"A few shots of whiskey to warm me up first, then sleep for a month . . I want to . . "

"Shut up Ezra."

Chris ripped his own shirt - Ezra would not be impressed with him if it was the Southerner's shirt that had been destroyed - and poured some water onto one of the strips. He pushed Ezra onto his side then pressed the cloth against the wound and grimaced when he heard Ezra hiss through clenched teeth. "Sorry." Well at least it shut him up for a while.

Ezra nodded and looked up into Buck's eyes, the ladies man had a strange expression written all over his face. The smiled at him and it was all Ezra could take, he closed his eyes and began to mutter curses under his breath while Chris cleaned the wound on the back of his head.

"You know that hurts, don't you?"

"Yep." Chris nodded.

"Then why are continuing to inflict more pain on me, don't you realise my head hurts enough as it is."

Both Chris and Buck refused to answer him, instead one held his head up while the other bandaged it.

"It's going to hurt no matter what we do Ezra, so do as your told and shut the hell up!"

"Mr Larabee, are you saying that I don't do as I'm told." Ezra raised an eyebrow and winced because the simple movement hurt. "That hurt, I'm going to shut up now." there was a pause before he spoke again. "Think I'll get some sleep too if you don't mind. Don't want to be rude, and I don't like to be bad company but I'm tired and I'm going to go to sleep for a little while."

"Don't want you to sleep Ezra." Chris leaned over him and lifted an eyelid before it could be closed, then the other. The pupil on the right was larger. "You've got a concussion, you need to stay awake."

"No I don't." Ezra insisted as he closed his eyes again.

"Ezra! Stay awake."

"And what is the best way to stay awake?"

"To talk."

Ezra would have nodded in satisfaction but he knew it would hurt. "But you keep asking me to shut up."

"Jesus Ezra, why do you have to be so damn irritating and difficult all the time." Chris growled at him as he pulled him up into a sitting position.

Ezra's eyes flew open as the pain tore through his skull and his stomach began to roll. "It was your order to shut up and I'm now going to be sick . . . "

They didn't have a chance to move out of the way, the mess that came from Ezra's stomach landed on their feet. The boots and lower part of their trousers were covered in vomit.

"Can you put me back down please." Ezra demanded. He had felt better when he was lying down, he wanted to do back to his original position.

"I think it might be best if we stay here tonight and take him into town tomorrow." Chris told Buck as he began to dress Ezra in his dry jacket.

"He's soaked through Chris, we should take him now."

"He's also gonna vomit everywhere. You can take him on your horse."

"Maybe we should stay here." Buck repeated Chris' suggestion.

"He's soaked through Buck, we should take him now."

"I get the point." Buck growled.

"Maybe I should just take care of myself, I can sleep here for a while and then walk back to town, meet you there. That way you won't have to keep arguing about what you're going to do with me." Ezra snapped at them. "I'm sorry to be such a burden to you."

"You're not a burden, you're a friend and we're trying to decide what's best for you." Chris retorted.

"Fine, while you're making your decision, I'm going back to sleep."

"No you don't," Chris nodded to Buck and together they stood up and brought Ezra up with them, "we're taking you home now. Nathan can then decide what's best for you."

"And I know what Nathan wants to do with me." Ezra groaned.

He could feel the world spinning around him and he thought he was going to throw up again. It passed and he hoped that it was not going to come back.

"You're not going to throw up again are you Ezra?" Buck asked as he stepped away but kept his hold on the gambler.

"You wish."

"No, my shoes are already ruined, thanks anyway."

"Think you could walk to Buck's horse with our help?" Chris bent a little so he could look up into Ezra's face. The gambler's head was leaning against his chest.

"Buck's, where the hell is the horse that nearly fell over?"

"Gone."

"Typical, first the stupid animal thinks it's going to fall over then decides not to but forgets to tell me about it then runs off."

"Am I going to have to tell you to shut up again." Chris was still looking into Ezra's abnormal pupils.

"Shut up, don't go to sleep, stay here, go home, fall of a horse, don't fall off a horse, stay, go . . . stay, go. Mother says go, I say stay, go, stay, I'm going to have to decide one day."

Chris looked at Buck who was returning the confused expression. Ezra was now taking about something completely different. Stay in Four Corners or leave.

"We're going home Ezra," Chris told him, "you hear that, home. H . . . O . . . M . . . E, home. It's your home and it's our home."

"Home." Ezra nodded. "And no, I don't think I can walk to Buck's horse."

"We'll help you." Chris stepped forward with Buck but for some reason Ezra had stayed where he was.

"I think I'll just stay here," Ezra allowed his knees to buckle so he could fall back to the ground.

"Whoa there Ezra," Buck pulled him back up, "you're not staying here."

"Why not?"

"Because you've been injured, you're soaked through, you'll catch a cold. We need to get you warmed up and into a bed."

"You want to get me into a bed." Ezra smiled up at Buck.

"Now your wishing." Buck laughed, he couldn't help himself. If only Ezra was this free with his speech more often. The Southerner had a very good sense of humour but it was something they didn't seen very often.

"With that refusal, I will stay right here." he tried to sit down again but his friends wouldn't let him.

"Think we're going to have to carry him Buck."

"Oh no, I'm not a child, I am quite capable of walking to my horse."

"You don't have a horse." Buck reminded him.

"I don't?"

"No, that's why your riding with me."

"Would someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Later Ezra, we want to get you home first." Chris took most of Ezra's weight and began to lead him to Buck's horse. "No more interruptions."

"Fine, I'd rather sleep anyway."

"I'm going crazy." Chris shook his head.

Buck hid his smile and mounted his horse. He then reached down and helped Ezra get up on the horse in front of him. "You certainly know how to push his buttons, don't you Ezra."

"Who's buttons?" Ezra lifted his head slightly to look at the man behind him.

"Chris' buttons Ezra."

"Chris is here?"

"You must have hit your head pretty hard."

"I hit my head?"

"Shut up Ezra!"

Buck turned his head to see Chris riding up to them. "He's getting pretty confused."

"We better get him back to Nathan then." Chris slapped Ezra's arm. "You ready Ezra," there was a nod, "if you think you're going to throw up, shout and we'll help you." Another nod.

Buck wrapped his arms around Ezra's waist and heeled his horse into movement.

Nathan was about to retire for the night, the day had been as long as it was difficult. He was frustrated, hungry and to tired to eat. The healer planned on sleeping through the night and having a large breakfast in the morning. The door opening stopped the plan dead in it's tracks. Chris and Buck stepped into the room with Ezra propped up between them. The gambler didn't look well at all. His features were pale, his lips slightly blue and he was obviously unable to stand on his own.

"What did you do this time Ezra?" Nathan asked as he guestered Chris towards the bed.

"I, Mr Jackson, didn't do anything . . . " Ezra frowned and looked sideways at Chris, "Did I do something to earn this discomfort and pain?"

"No Ezra, you merely fell off your horse." Chris told Ezra and Nathan.

"I fell off my horse, my horse wouldn't allow me to fall." Ezra protested verbally and physically when they tried to lie him down on the bed.

"It wasn't your horse Ezra."

"Oh, where is my horse?"

"In the livery, wasn't feeling to well, that's you told us."

"He been like this since it happened?" Nathan asked Chris.

"We weren't there when it happened."

Nathan gave Chris a questioning look, but Chris shook his head, he would explain later. The healer nodded then turned his attention back to Ezra. "Firstly, let's get you out of those wet clothes."

Ezra helped as best he could, it wasn't much. He lifted his arms and pulled them when he could. The upper clothing was off quickly followed by boots and pants. Nathan did a quick examination to make sure there were no other injuries, he found some slight bruising to Ezra's back but nothing else. Nathan covered him with a blanket and guestered to Chris to get him a second blanket.

The black healer left to gather the things he needed then moved back to the bed and sat down behind Ezra. He lay his equipment on the side table. He looked down at his patient and noticed the closed eyes and steady breathing.

"Chris, could you hold his head."

"No, not now, I want to sleep." Ezra muttered. "Keep trying but I’m not getting there though."

"This is going to hurt Ezra." Nathan warned him.

"When doesn't it." the man on the bed sighed.

Nathan began to clean the wound but had to stop when Ezra moved his head away. "Chris!" he hadn't realised that the gunslinger hadn't been holding Ezra's head still.

When he knew Chris was in position he returned to what he was doing. He smiled warmly when Ezra began to curse, the Southerner wouldn't be going to sleep now. It took a few minutes to get all the dirt out of the wound, he then cleaned it a second time to make sure. The disinfectant caused Ezra to struggle against Chris' hold and the cursing became worse.

Chris held onto Ezra's head as firmly as he dared, he didn't want to push his face down into the pillow, he wouldn't be able to breath. He moved his free hand forward and gripped Ezra's chin. His movement caused the gambler's eyes to snap open and stare up at him. Chris could tell by the expression that if Ezra was able to talk he would be cursing him, using every word that he knew.

Nathan began to stitch the wound. He felt Ezra tense up as the pain became worse so he worked as quickly as he could. It took him almost five minutes to put in the seven stitches. Nathan nodded to Chris who released Ezra. After he re-bandaged the wound he moved around the bed to face Ezra.

"All finished Ezra, you can sleep now."

Ezra didn't answer him, he simply closed his eyes and lay in the bed silently until sleep claimed him.

"How long has he been like that?" Nathan turned to Chris and Buck when he was sure that Ezra was sleeping. “Confused I mean, how long has he been confused like that?”

"He was unconscious when we first found him, then he woke up," Chris sat down in the chair, all of a sudden he was tired, "wouldn't stop talking at first, then all he wanted to do was sleep. After about twenty minutes he started to get confused."

"He was forgetting things that only happened a few minutes ago." Buck added. "Is that bad?"

"Could be," Nathan answered, "he may simply be confused."

"Aw hell Nathan, it's just a bump on the head, he's had plenty of those, so have we for that matter." Buck argued with him.

"I should know more in the morning. Why don't you guys go get some rest, come back tomorrow."

"No, we'll stay with him, we got him into this mess in the first place Nathan." Chris made himself comfortable, it was going to be a long night.

"What did you do?" Nathan walked back to the wash basin and scrubbed the blood of his hands.

"He was playing poker and some guy accused him of cheating . . . "

"Don't they always." Nathan interrupted him.

"He wasn't cheating Nathan, he doesn't cheat!" Buck spoke harshly.

Nathan only shrugged.

Chris continued what he was saying. "We knew he wasn't cheating, but they didn't. His life was threatened and I thought it was best that he leave town. Ezra did, but he wasn't too happy about it. Must have thought that we believed the townsfolk. We left when we were finished, I wanted to explain what happened. He wasn't on the road, I don't know if he crawled off it or not. His horse was gone and we think that maybe someone had gone through his things."

"He didn't fall off the horse?"

"Ezra said he did." Buck told him.

"Maybe Ezra went through it . . ." Chris shrugged but he had a bad feeling about it. The whole thing wasn't right. He believed Ezra when he said that he had fallen off but the rest of it didn't fit. Ezra was in the wrong position. His saddle bags were on the ground, someone had gone through them and the horse he had been riding was gone. "We're not sure what happened after he fell off the horse."

Chris woke quickly when he heard Nathan loudly calling Ezra's name. His still groggy form protested the quick movements that he forced upon it as he made his way quickly to the bed. Nathan had began to slap the gambler's face, gently at first then with more force.

"Can't wake him?" Chris asked.

"Having a bit of trouble with that." Nathan nodded as he spoke.

"Let me have a go." he took the healer's place beside Ezra and cupped the younger man's chin in his hand. "Ezra!" he slapped the exposed cheek that was already beginning to redden as a result of the abuse. "Ezra! You really don't want to piss me off!"

A groan came from Ezra's waking form.

"Now that was easy." Chris gloated. "Come on Ezra, wake up, it's only for a few minutes, then you can go back to sleep.

Ezra's eyes opened slightly. "What's going on, you need me for something?" he saw Nathan. "Is someone hurt?"

"No." Nathan leaned in closer. "How ya feelin' Ezra?"

"Me?" he tried to sit up but a sudden pain in his head flared up causing him to fall back down. "Oh it's me."

"Well?"

"Tired, and my head hurts. Why does my head hurt?"

Nathan patted his shoulder. "Go back to sleep now Ezra."

Chris and Nathan moved away from the bed to allow the gambler to sleep.

Ezra blinked, then frowned, then blinked again. Something wasn't right. His head hurt, badly and he was in Nathan's clinic but he couldn't remember how he had gotten here or why he was here. He had to be hurt, that was the only explanation. Maybe if he closed his eyes and tried again, he would be back in his own room. Ezra tried it, his eyes closed and he counted to ten. The eyes opened again and he found himself still in the clinic.

"You're awake finally." Nathan's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"What happened?"

"You don't remember." the healer walked to the bed and sat down on the edge.

"Nathan, if I could remember, I wouldn't be asking you." Ezra's patience was limited in it's capacity, his anger was also on a short fuse. He was confused, and there was a period of time that he had no memory of and he didn't like it.

"You fell off a horse on the way back to town yesterday, hit your head. You've been a little bit confused Ezra, you’ll be fine in a few days."

"Confused, why?" Ezra pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"You’ve got a concussion.”

"I’ve had that before and haven’t been this confused. So how did it happen?”

“How did what happen?”

“How did I get a concussion?”

“You fell off your horse and hit your head.” Nathan explained again.

"When can I go back to my room?"

"I want you stay here till tomorrow, I need to keep a close eye on you."

"Okay."

"I want you to drink something for me, it'll help with the pain." the larger man got up and went to the long table that he had placed the brew he'd made up earlier.

"And make me sleep no doubt." Ezra smiled up at Nathan when he returned to the bed.

"That too." he handed Ezra the cup. "Drink all of it Ezra."

Chris opened his eyes and grimaced at the pain that ran through his back, he was getting to old for this. He was going to have to demand that Nathan put another bed in here so when one of them wanted to stay, they could sleep on the spare bed. Chris stretched, groaned, stretched again then stood up. He noticed Nathan sitting in a chair next to the bed. The healer seemed to be sleeping. His eyes shifted to Ezra, the gambler was sleeping heavily, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm Chris stood up and made his way to the bed, he leant over and placed the back of his hand against Ezra’s cheek. The fever was still there. He wanted to wake him up to ask him how he was but knew Nathan would have something to say about him disturbing his patient. If he really needed to know he would have to wake up Nathan. The idea was as bad as the first one. He was going to have to wait.

“Woke up an hour ago, I gave him something.” Nathan informed him as he raised his hands over his head to stretch his back..

“How was he?”

“Still confused and forgetful.”

“Do you know why?”

“No I don’t.”

“Anything you can do?”

“Only wait and see.” it was the only answer that Nathan could come up with.

“I’ll sit with him for a while. You go and do what you need to do.”

“If you mean eat and sleep then thank you, I’ll send someone up to give you a break.”

“Nathan.” Chris waited until the healer turned to look at him. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I really don’t know Chris.” Nathan left the room, leaving Chris confused and worried about the gambler.

Mortimer Johnson shifted his position in the chair he had been sitting in all morning. The man named Ezra had spent the night in the room at the top of the stairs. Other men had come and gone but there had been no sign of the man he wanted. He could wait, he had plenty of time and plenty of patience. The years he had spent searching only proved that. It also gave him time to think. There were five men in all that had visited the injured man, some of them more than once. If it was going to be like this all the time, he was going to find it difficult to get to the gambler. He needed him to be alone, he couldn’t go through six men to get to him, he wouldn’t survive.

He watched as the solid black man returned to the room. At first he thought that it was a Doctor’s room but the men he had seen didn’t look like Doctors. The black man had been there all the time, it was his room. He had never arrived as the others had. Either the man was a healer or a sharlaten trying to convince people that he could heal them. A black man couldn’t be a Doctor or a healer. It had never happened before and it wouldn’t happen.

The old man drank from the cup he held in his hand, the liquid was cooling but it was still warm enough for him to drink. One of the two men who had brought the gambler back was still in there, he was the one that would cause the most trouble. The man in black obviously cared for the gambler, he didn’t know why. No one should care about a cheat, a man who took money from those who didn’t have enough to survive on, a man who would gun down anyone who questioned his card playing techniques; like his son had done.

Mortimer was going to enjoy reminding this man of what he had done, the memory that would flash in his eyes would be enough to allow him to pull the trigger that would kill the gambler and revenge his son’s death. All he needed to do was to get the man on his own.

Ezra was awake when Nathan entered his clinic that also served as his living arrangements. He couldn’t understand why, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to sleep when he had a patient staying for a few days. The chair was the only thing that was available and he sometimes suffered as much back pain as the patient did from his injuries.

“Nathan, can I go back to my own room now, I feel fine.” Ezra didn’t give Nathan a chance to ask him anything or to even sit himself down.

“How you feelin’ Ezra?” Nathan ignored the question, he’d learnt how to a long time ago. If you wanted to win an argument with Ezra, you didn’t listen to what he was saying, you carried on a one sided conversation.

“Fine, can I leave now.”

“No.” the healer smiled at him. “Not until I know you’re okay.”

“You can’t keep me here forever Nathan, I may be a bit confused but I’m not stupid!”

“You’re also forgetful.” Chris reminded him.

Ezra looked across the room at Chris. “And this has something to do with you because?”

"Apparently someone made me the leader of this irritating group, so what I say goes. If Nathan wants you to stay, you stay.”

“But I feel fine!” Ezra argued with him. “By the way, it wasn’t my choice that you be the leader.”

“You weren’t there when the decision was made.” Chris retorted.

Ezra hung his head in shame.

“You were in jail remember, something about bail jumping.”

“Oh, maybe we should vote again.” Ezra suggested with a slight smile.

“What makes you think they wouldn’t say the same thing.” Chris crossed his arms with confidence.

“You have a point there.” Ezra felt defeated, he didn’t want to stay here, he felt fine apart from the ache in the back of his head. That usually happened though when you fell on it.

“If you’re confused and forgetful how do we know you won’t do something . . . ?” Nathan started.

“Stupid?”

“Yeah, sort of.”

“How can I do something stupid when six men will no doubt hound me until I am back to my normal self.”

“Now Ezra has a point.” Chris added.

“Tomorrow Ezra, we’ll see how you are tomorrow.”

“What am I going to do until tomorrow?”

“Sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

Chris was surprised that Ezra hadn’t asked them to partake in a game of poker.

“Poker.” Chris was going to find out why Ezra hadn’t made the suggestion.

“Poker? I don’t feel like playing cards.” Ezra muttered and looked down at his hands, he didn’t want to tell them he wasn’t sure how to play. How could a bump on the head do that to him? He thought about asking Nathan but the healer would only keep him in here longer than he wanted to be.

“Why not?” Chris stood up and moved to the bed.

“Just don’t feel like it that’s all, there is nothing wrong with that is there.”

“No, suppose not.” he looked at Nathan who shrugged in return.

“You hungry Ezra?”

“Yes,” it was an easy lie, one that he had to use quite often.

“I’ll go and get him something.” Chris offered.

“Something light.” Nathan ordered.

When Chris left Ezra allowed his gaze to find Nathan’s kind face. “Nathan can I go home now.”

“Not until tomorrow Ezra, I told you that remember.”

“I know you did, I just thought I would give it another try.”

“It won’t work, your staying put!” Nathan glared at him, narrowed his eyebrows, crossed his arms and pressed his lips together.

“I’ll stay put.”

“Do I have your word as a gentleman?”

“Aw hell.” Ezra crossed his own arms in a gesture of defence.

“Ezra?”

“Fine! You have it.”

“Good, now that I know you won’t go anywhere I’m going to help Chris.”

“I’m not hungry.” Ezra tried.

“I don’t care.” Nathan said before he left the room.

Five minutes passed and Ezra had already forgotten what the conversation he had with Nathan was about. The holes that were empty of any memory were frustrating him, causing him to become angry at himself. He felt stupid, helpless and vulnerable. Fear was something else he was feeling, what if they, or someone took advantage of his lapses of memory.

Ezra threw the blanket off and stood up, he swayed to the left then right and prayed that he didn’t fall flat on his face. The idea of sitting down again didn’t enter his mind. Once his body had steadied itself he looked for his clothes. A familiar dark green jacket laid across the wooden chair in the corner, his trousers and shirt was folded neatly on the seat. He dressed quickly knowing that Nathan would be back any minute. If he was caught escaping they would probably tie him down, it had been done before.

He snuck to the door like the snake he sometimes felt he was and opened it slightly, he stared out into the sunlight looking for his keepers. When he found none he opened the door further and stuck his head out into the warm air. They still weren’t to be seen. Ezra smiled, his confidence growing. He walked as fast as he dared, he didn’t want to fall down the stairs and land flat on his face, it would be a fine position to be found in. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs he began to walk, he didn’t know where he was going, didn’t know why he didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t really care as long as it was a way from the clinic.

The gambler reached the boardwalk and tipped his hat to the old man sitting on the bench in front of the hotel and without waiting for a returning greeting he kept going. The freedom he felt put a spring in his step. His headache was almost forgotten. A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The quick mind was already coming up with excuses as to why he wasn’t still in the clinic. If only he could remember why he had to be there in the first place.

Ezra heaved a sigh of relief when he realised it was the old man he’d just passed. Did he know him? He didn’t think so, he knew everyone that lived in and around Four Corners but for some reason this man seemed familiar. The younger man frowned when a gun was shoved against his side. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Did Nathan have everyone in town on the look-out for him, was this man supposed to return him to his prison so he could be guarded by his friends.

“Start walking toward the jail. Say anything to alert your friends and you’re a dead man. Got me?” Mortimer ordered him.

“Got you what?”

“What are you? Stupid?”

“Me stupid? No, on the contrary, I am quite intelligent, I just thought you said you got something.”

“If you were that smart you would be walking.” Mortimer growled and pushed the barrel of the gun harder against the man’s side.

Ezra winced at the pressure, “Where did you want me to go?”

“The jail.”

He nodded and began to take small steps, he was hoping that he would be caught. Ezra glanced at the saloon across the street as he walked passed it. This was just typical, when he wanted to be seen, he isn’t and when he didn’t want to be seen, he was. What was wrong with these people, did they know nothing about being in the right place at the right time.

“Move faster!”

“Moving as fast as I can.”

“You’d move faster if I shot you in the leg.”

“You could do that if you want.” Ezra said as he smiled over his shoulder at his kidnapper.

“You think I’m an idiot? I’m pretty intelligent myself you know.”

“No I didn’t know.” Ezra snarled at him.

“You’re going to get to know a lot about me shortly.” the old man smiled.

The jail was getting closer, Ezra’s mind wondered if one of the others were in there. If there was then it would be a quick way of getting out of this mess. He just didn’t know what this mess was. The old man looked familiar, he’d seen him before but he couldn’t place the face or the voice.

Ezra kept watching for some sort of help but nothing was forthcoming. Was his luck really this bad. Now that was a stupid question. Why didn’t he stay where he was. Because he was a stubborn bastard that didn’t like other people worrying about him or fussing about him.

“We’re here.” Mortimer had to grab the shoulder again to stop the man.

“We’re where?” Ezra asked him.

“Is there something wrong with your brain?”

“I fell on it yesterday.”

“Well that would explain a few things.”

Mortimer knocked on the door. There was no response. “Open it and go in.”

Ezra didn’t want to do that, if he did then there was no chance of being rescued, they wouldn’t see him in the jail house. His friends wouldn’t know he was in there with a madman that was holding a gun against his side.

“Do it or you die in the street.”

“I’m standing on the boardwalk, therefore I would die on the boardwalk.” Ezra corrected him.

“Either way you’ll die.”

“Then one of my friends will gun you down in retribution.” the Southerner threatened him.

“Don’t rightly care about that, I plan on dying after I take care of you anyway.”

Ezra didn’t like the sound of that, it meant that this man would pull the trigger without any hesitation or thought on the matter. That wasn’t right. He opened the door - he didn’t want to die now, later would be better - and stepped into the jail house. The building was empty, no prisoners and no guards.

“Get into one of the cells.”

“Did I commit a crime that I didn’t know about? Are you arresting me?”

“How many times did you fall on it in your lifetime?”

“Fall on what?”

“Your head.”

“Lost count.” Ezra shrugged and sat down on the uncomfortable bed.

“I think the one yesterday was one too many.” Mortimer smiled at him. “Now don’t you go anywhere.”

Ezra snorted at the sarcastic remark and threw his hat onto the bed next to him. He watched as the man shut and locked the cell door, he then moved to the front door and locked it. Ezra knew where he was going when he disappeared around the corner of the cells, he was locking the back door. No one could get in if they didn’t have a key and Ezra knew they didn’t have one. Well, it didn’t matter, Ezra was quite competent of picking a lock, if he had the right equipment that was and he didn’t.

Mortimer returned to the cells and smiled down at Ezra. “Suppose it’s time to let you know what’s happening.”

“If you could, I’d be grateful but you may have to tell me a few times, I’ve gotten very forgetful.”

“The bump on the head.” Mortimer nodded.

“You know, for someone who wants to kill me, you’re being a bit, well concerned about my health.”

“What makes you think I want to kill you?”

“You don’t? But you said outside . . . ”

“That was to get you in here, besides it’s going to depend on your reaction and memory.”

“Then I’m a dead man.”

“Only if you admit your guilt.”

“My guilt? For what? What did I do?”

“You killed my son when he accused you of cheating.”

“Good Lord.” Ezra groaned and sat back against the cool brick wall.

“Where the hell is he!?” Nathan demanded when he found the empty bed. “Son-of-a-bitch promised me he wouldn’t go anywhere.”

Chris smiled, he couldn’t help it, the expression on the healer’s face was laughable. “You made him promise when he can’t even remember something that happened five minutes ago.”

“Shit!” Nathan practically threw the tray of food onto the bed.

Chris was grateful he was carrying the pot of coffee, it would’ve been a mess to clean up if it ended up all over the sheets.

“He’s probably in his room or the saloon.” Chris told him.

“He better be, he’s a dead man if he isn’t.” Nathan stormed out of the room with Chris right on his heels. “I don’t do this for the fun of Chris, I do this to help people, he’s got a head injury and he thinks he knows what’s best for himself. Is he a doctor? No he isn’t. I’m not a doctor either but I sure as hell know more about medicine than that idiot does. What if he . . . Aw to hell with him. I don’t know why I bother with him or any of you.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing!”

“Don’t get angry at him Nathan,” Chris warned him, “he’s not in the right frame of mind remember.”

“At least he won’t be cheating some poor sod out his life savings.”

“He doesn’t cheat Nathan, I told you that already.”

“How would you know, you can’t catch him at it, he’s too good.”

Chris grabbed Nathan by the arm and turned to face him. “Because he told me he doesn’t cheat and I believe him. It’s about time you do the same thing Nathan.”

“I know Chris, it’s just that he pisses me off and he does it so easily. He’s aggravating!”

“Now that I agree with. Some days I just want to beat some sense into him. For some reason he likes to piss off danger when it’s staring him in the face.”

“He’s an idiot, doesn’t know what’s good for him. Can’t see what he’s got right in front of him.”

“Why don’t we find him first, then deal with that when he’s feeling better.”

“He’s not going to be well enough after I find him ‘cause I’m gonna kill him.”

“Kill him later Nathan, I won’t let you touch him now.”

“Is that a promise, I can kill him later.”

“Yeah, why not. Might teach him a lesson.” Chris smiled.

They found no sign of Standish in the saloon or his room. The others had joined in the search and it had been decided that they would meet back at the saloon in thirty minutes. The men searched the stables, hotel, general store and everywhere else they could think of.

Chris and Vin joined each other as they crossed the main street to search the jail house. Both of them had thought that Ezra might think it was the last place they would look for him. He had been right, this was the only building they hadn’t checked.

“He better be here.” Chris growled.

“I don’t know where else he’d be.” Vin shrugged his shoulders.

“I just hope he didn’t leave town.”

“His horse is in the stable.”

“Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t take another one to throw us off.” Chris said as he went to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. “It’s locked.”

“Let me have a go.” Vin pushed him aside.

“I said it’s locked.” Chris repeated.

“Why would it be locked?”

“Sometimes Vin, you can be really stupid.”

“Sometimes.” the ex-bounty hunter smiled at him.

“Okay, all the time.” Chris’ lips turned up into a small smile. “But it’s still locked.”

“I’ll try the back door.”

“Be careful.”

“You got a feelin’.”

“Yeah.”

“So do I.”

Chris moved to the window and peeked in. What he saw surprised him. Ezra Standish was sitting in one of the jail cells. The gambler was talking; either to himself or to someone that was with him. Chris knew it wasn’t one of the seven. Something was wrong. He stepped back to the door and slammed his fist against it. He was answered with a bullet tearing a hole in the door close to his face.

“Shit!”

Something was defenantly wrong. Why would Ezra be in a cell? An unknown assailant had just shot at him for some unknown reason.

“You stay away from here! Try and come in here and your friend’s a dead man! You hear me!?”

“Who the hell is that?” Vin asked as he walked around the building and stepped up onto the boardwalk.

“You think I know.”

“Do you?”

“No.”

The man yelled out to them again.

“You deaf out there?”

“I heard you.” Chris yelled back at him.

“Then why are you still standing there?”

“What do you want with Ezra?”

“That’s none of your business, it’s between me and him.” Mortimer answered.

“He’s our friend, so it’s our business.”

There was silence for a few minutes. Chris and Vin turned when they heard the others running toward them. Chris had to put out a hand to stop them from joining them at the door to the jail house.

“I believe he killed my son and when he admits to it, I’m going to kill him.”

“Why would you think he killed your son?”

“He’s a gambler who cheats and he matches the description and age.”

“So on that information you think he’s your man?”

“Yes but he’s going to remember what he did and admit to it before I kill him.” there was a slight pause. “Unless you attempt to rescue him, then he’ll die anyway.”

“I’m not going to leave.”

Another gunshot sounded which resulted in a cry of pain. Chris rushed to the window to search for the source. He saw Ezra withering in pain on the floor of his cell.

“The next one will kill him!”

“If you kill him, you’ll be dead before he hits the ground.”

“Yes I will be and it will be by my own bullet because I plan on dying after I have my revenge.”

“We’re going!”

“Come back and he’s a dead man.”

Chris and Vin walked away and joined the others in the middle of the street. A small crowd was already beginning to grow. They wanted to know what was going on. So did the remaining four hired lawmen.

“What’s going on?” Buck demanded to know.

“Some crazy guy has Ezra in there, thinks Ezra killed his son, wants his vengeance.”

“And the two gunshots?” Josiah questioned him.

“One was a warning for me, the other . . . he shot Ezra in the shoulder.”

“Why are we still standing here then?”

“He has both doors locked, he’ll hear us if we try to get in. He said he would kill Ezra if we did.”

“Then what are we going to do?” JD stood beside Buck.

“I’ll think of something, give me some time.”

“Ezra might not have time.” Nathan warned him. “Which shoulder?”

“Right.” Chris pointed to his own shoulder.

“He’ll could die of blood loss, if not the wound could get infected. He doesn’t have a lot of time Chris.”

“I know that Nathan, but I need time to think.”

“Think fast Chris!”

Ezra lay on his left side, his green eyes glaring at the man who had shot him. He didn’t have to do that, there was no need. Chris wouldn’t have come in, not yet anyway. Now Ezra was stuck here, a bullet in his shoulder - he couldn’t feel any pain in his back so he knew the bullet was still in there - a crazy old man who thought he had killed his son, and friends that weren’t in a hurry to rescue him.

“Did you really have to do that?” Ezra asked him.

“They wouldn’t leave, had to do something.” Mortimer shrugged.

“You didn’t have to shoot me!” Ezra growled.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have asked him nicely.”

Mortimer smiled, for someone who had killed his son he was a likable person. He shook the thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t like this man, he had murdered his only child.

“I enjoyed shooting you more.” the smile turned into a snarl.

“I didn’t enjoy it.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I’m going to bleed to death here you know, and the bullet is still in there.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to do something about it.”

“Why would I think that.”

Ezra struggled as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, he then pushed himself up onto the bed and laid down. It was the only thing he could think of doing. He closed his eyes against the pain, the warm blood flowing from the wound soaked into his clothing. Ezra tried to steady his breathing, to concentrate and take one steady breath at a time. If he could think of something else, something that would take his mind off the pain.

Mortimer watched as the man he wanted to kill, lie down on the bed, he was unsure of what the gambler was doing. Ezra, that was his name, closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. The chest rose and lowered itself as it let out a breath, the movement was slow. What was he trying to do, breath the pain away.

“You think that’s going to help?”

“It’s better than nothing.”

Mortimer shrugged and walked over to the window next to the front door. He could see Ezra’s friends watching from the other side of the street. He didn’t think he was going to have to worry about them for a while but he had to do what he wanted quickly, they weren’t going to stay on that side of the street for very long.

“My son would be twenty nine if he was still alive. Carl was a good kid, didn’t get into any trouble. Thought he was doing the right thing when he accused the man of cheating. He wasn’t the only one that was losing a lot of money, he wouldn’t have cared otherwise. The gambler didn’t like what he’d been accused of. Gunned my son down.”

“And you think that gambler was me?”

“Like I told your friend, you fit the description.”

“Doesn’t mean I did it.”

“You cheat when you gamble, you con people out of their money . . . “

“I use to, I don’t do that anymore.”

Mortimer turned around and looked at the young man. It was an admittance he didn’t expect, maybe this was going to be over quicker than he thought.

“I only kill in self defence and that’s if there is no other choice. I can usually talk my way out of things. My gun is my last resort.” Ezra moved his head to the side and looked at man standing by the window. “What’s your name?”

“Mortimer Johnson, my son was Carl Johnson. We lived in Bakersville. You been there?”

“How long ago did it happen?”

“Five years ago.”

“At the moment I can’t remember what I did last week.” Ezra mumbled and returned his gaze the ceiling above him.

“Gambler, fancy dresser,” Mortimer moved to the cell bars and stared at the man lying on the bed. The blood was already soaking through the jacket, "good-looking, brown hair, green eyes, about twenty five but he would be thirty now. How old are you?”

“Thirty.”

“Were you in Bakersville five years ago?”

“I don’t know.” Ezra said seriously.

“You cheated back then when you played cards?” Mortimer went and grabbed the chair behind the desk and pulled it the cell, he sat down and made himself more comfortable.

“Already told you I did, I don’t do it now.”

“Doesn’t matter what you do now, it matters what you did then.”

“I don’t commit murder.”

“The man also had a Southern accent.” Mortimer lied.

He had to use what he had to get the man to confess, he would even lie. He wasn’t going to live much longer, he needed to put his need for revenge to rest. The old man knew he couldn’t die without revenging his son’s death. It had come to the point where he would convince an innocent man that he was guilty. All gamblers were the same, if it wasn’t this one, it was one just like him.

“There are plenty of Southern gamblers.” Ezra retorted.

Mortimer decided to use the letter that he had read. “Are there many who work with their mothers.” he saw the reaction and knew he was right about lying, he was going to get a confession, he knew it now.

“The man you’re talking about worked with his mother?” Ezra swallowed and took a deep breath, he grimaced at the pain it caused.

“This gambler did.”

Ezra knew it couldn’t be him, he never killed anyone in cold blood, even though he couldn’t remember that far back he knew he would never do that.

“You worked with your mother?”

“Yes.” Ezra whispered.

“You killed my son.”

“No.”

“Your a liar as well as a cheat.” Mortimer accused him.

“Did you know that I’m one of the men who were hired to protect this town?” Ezra sat up, the position he was in wasn’t helping much, he also wanted to look at the man he was talking to. He shifted his back against the wall and felt a river of blood flow down his chest.

“I don’t think that matters, do you?”

“No I suppose not, it doesn’t matter what I do now, it’s what I did then, isn’t that what you said.”

Wasn’t it always, it didn’t matter how much he’d changed, people still believed that he was capable of cheating, that he did cheat and was willing to con any rich man who entered town out of his money. He didn’t cheat and he didn’t con. He wished people would trust him to do the right thing.

“That’s right.”

“I didn’t kill your son.”

“How do you know?” Ezra was stunned by the question. “You said it yourself that you can’t even remember what you did last week.”

“I don’t have to remember, I know I wouldn’t shoot anyone in cold blood.”

“How many people have you killed?”

“What?”

“You heard the question, the bump on the head didn’t effect your hearing.”

“I don’t know.”

“That many huh?” Mortimer wondered how many other sons this man had killed. He himself had killed in self defence once and he still carried that man’s face and name in his memory, he would never forget him.

“Self defence . . . “

“That’s bull shit, you probably killed when someone came after you for cheating. Of course they would have to use some force. You call that self defence, I call that making them make the first move, that way you can call self defence after you killed them but it really wasn’t the case was it.”

“No it wasn’t the case. If I kill someone it’s because they were trying to kill me, or someone else.”

“My son was doing neither!” Mortimer almost shouted.

“I didn’t kill your son.” Ezra repeated.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Your mind has been distorted by the hate and need for revenge, you don’t know what you’re thinking anymore.”

“It’s not what I think, it’s what I know.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know you killed my son.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“We’re you in Bakersville five years ago?”

“No.”

Ezra closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. He needed Nathan, needed his help. If only he had stayed . . . stayed where. He couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember. His pain filled features frowned, he had to remember.

“What’s the matter, you remember.”

“No, shoulder hurts.”

“It’s going to hurt for a while, unless you admit your guilt.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“How do you know?”

“You always repeat your questions.”

“Thought you were forgetful.”

“That’s why you keep asking them twice?”

“No.”

Ezra just nodded. He was becoming tired, he didn’t want to talk anymore. Why was this happening to him. Because it was his way of life, it didn’t matter that he’d changed, people still came looking for him. He was certain that he didn’t kill this man’s son. He’d never murdered anyone in his entire life. Killed; yes, but it was always self defence and now he often killed to protect others when their lives were being threatened.

“You tired?”

“You think! You shot me, I’m bleeding, of course I’m tired.”

“Don’t forget the bump on the head.”

“And I have a headache.”

Mortimer smiled. “Do you always complain so much?”

“No, usually people tell me to shut up before I even have the . . .“

“Shut up.” Mortimer told him.

“See, no one ever lets me finish what I’m trying to say.”

“How come you changed the way you live?” Mortimer was curious as to what made this man stop his cheating ways and become a lawman instead.

“I made a mistake . . . someone gave me a second chance. There was also the fact that I was offered a pardon for my services.”

“So it was for your own health.”

“At first. It was only for a month but that was over a year ago. I could have left then but I decided to give it some more time. Made some friends, learnt what it was like to give to others instead of taking. I care about my friends and they care about me. I’ve never had that before. I enjoyed the feeling. It’s what’s kept me here for so long.”

“You have a mother. Didn’t she care about you?” Mortimer frowned at him. He couldn’t see the green eyes, they were still hidden behind closed eyelids.

“My mother. She taught me everything I know about gambling, cheating and conning. Nothing else though, nothing about friends, family, caring. All of the things that a mother is supposed to teach her child.”

“What about love?”

Ezra opened his eyes to find Mortimer staring at him. “I don’t know what it is. My mother doesn’t really love me, has never shown me what it is. It’s as though I’m her apprentice, brought into this world so she could teach me what she knew and carry on the business after she died. She comes to visit me and each time she does, she does something that will enhance my skills. She says that I will become rusty, that I need to practice.”

“My wife was a wonderful mother . . .”

“Is she here in town?”

“No, she died a few years back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Yes I am.”

“Do you have a father?”

“I never knew him.” he closed his eyes again, he no longer liked the look he saw in the old man’s eyes. It was disturbing, unnatural.

“Did he die when you were young?”

“I don’t really know.”

“I’m sorry about that. I man should know his father.”

“I never told anyone about this stuff before.”

“Not even your friends.”

“No. That was another thing my mother taught me. You have to keep your emotions to yourself. Don’t get close to anyone. Look after number one. My mother lives by the same rule. Do you know what it’s like when you mother tells you to look after number one. I’m number two to her, she’ll always come first. Not her only child.”

“I would have given my life for my son.”

“I don’t think my mother would.”

“A parent should. A child should never die before their parents.”

“How did your wife react to your son’s death.”

“She died with him. It sounds stupid I know . . .”

“No it doesn’t, she gave birth to him, brought him into this world and took care of him for twenty five years. Of course she would die with him.”

“She didn’t want me to go after the person who did it, said that it wasn’t want Carl would want.”

“So why did you?”

“I was angry, my son died for no reason, the murderer got away. There wasn’t any justice served so I decided to serve it myself.”

“But you don’t know who did it.” Ezra had enough, he could no longer sit up, his strength was draining from his body and so was his life. He allowed himself to fall onto his side and groaned at the pain that shot through his shoulder.

“I think you did it.”

Ezra noticed that Mortimer no longer had confidence in his statement, it had changed. He was no longer sure that the gambler in front of him had killed his son.

“I didn’t kill him Mortimer, I don’t kill people.”

“I’ve been looking for five years. There were other times when I thought I had found him.”

“What happened?” he could feel his body becoming weaker, it was as though something was sapping his strength.

“I don’t really know, something in me said they didn’t do it.”

“What does that something say about me”

‘That you didn’t do it.’ Mortimer thought to himself. ‘But I need to finish this before I die.’

“Mortimer?”

“I’m going to fix that shoulder up for you.”

“Why don’t you just let Nathan do it.”

“No, we haven’t finished yet. I just don’t want you dying before you confess.”

“Confess to what?” the darkness that was approaching caused his mind to lose focus on what was happening around him. He was no longer sure what was happening to him.

“Why don’t you go to sleep, you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Not if Nathan gives me one of those drinks.” Ezra opened one eye to see who he was talking to. “Your not Josiah.”

“Go to sleep Ezra.”

Mortimer waited until he was sure the gambler was sleeping. He got the key and opened the door to the cell. His right hand nudged the sleeping man’s shoulder, he received no response. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the jacket away from the shoulder. The vest was next. The buttons were torn off and the shirt pulled away from the congealing blood. A hiss of pain reached his ears and he waited until he was sure Ezra wasn’t going to wake up. Mortimer manoeuvred his hand under the clothing and underneath the body. There was no exit wound. He was grateful, it meant that he didn’t have to move him.

A fire was started in the stove, water was boiled, a sharp knife was sterilised and hands washed. There wasn’t anything he could really use as a bandage, only the shirt on Ezra’s back. When he was ready the old man moved back to the bed. He noticed that Ezra hadn’t changed positions. This had to be done quickly, if he woke up, it would be difficult for him to hold him down while trying to remove the bullet.

He pressed his fingers against the wound to see if he could feel the bullet, he couldn’t. That meant it was in deep, he was going to have to dig for it. He gritted his teeth and cut the wound open. The man beneath the knife arched his back against the pain but didn’t wake. Mortimer used his fingers to separate the flesh as far as he could, the back arched even higher as the form tried to move away from him. He put one knee on Ezra’s chest and put his weight on it. As the knife searched the wound for the bullet, Mortimer had to press harder into the gambler’s chest with his knee. It took a couple of minutes for him to find the object that had been fired from his gun. He removed it and began to clean the wound.

Ezra had settled but his head moved side to side while he sterilised the wound. He then used the bloodied knife to cut the shirt from Ezra’s back and tore it into strips. Now he had to lift him off the bed so he could wrap the chest with strips of material. When he finished he placed his hand against the forehead and felt a fever building. He pull the waist coat and jacket closed.

Why was he doing this. He was no longer sure that this man had killed his son. What if he was innocent like the others. He couldn’t kill him, he couldn’t be responsible for his death. That would make him a murderer. No, he needed more time to sort this out but his friends were outside, he didn’t have a lot of time.

“Vin, I want you to find a good position, shoot him as soon as you see him through the window.”

“That’s your plan?” Buck smiled in surprise. “That’s what we always do. Why’d it take you so long to come up with that?”

“Shut up Buck, this is serious.”

“I know that Chris, just thought I’d ask that’s all.”

“Ask later.”

“Sure will.”

“The rest of us will go in as soon as the shot is fired.”

“Now that’s a good plan.” Buck added.

“Buck!”

“Think Vin will hit his mark.”

“Shut up Buck.” Vin growled at him. “I can hit him, my aims better than yours.”

“With a gun, yes . . . “ Buck let the rest sink in before he received a smack across the head from JD.

“Let’s get into position.”

Mortimer watched as the group of men split up, they were up to something but he didn’t know what. He did expect them to try something, they wouldn’t leave their wounded friend in here to die.

“Don’t go near the windows.” Ezra warned him when he saw Mortimer was about to put his upper body into a position that would allow Vin to shoot him.

“What?”

“Vin would be in a position that would allow him to shoot you when you show yourself.”

“Why are you tellin’ me this.”

“Same reason you took the bullet out of my shoulder.” Ezra smiled.

“Just didn’t want you to die before you admitted to killing my son.” Mortimer growled.

“That’s what you say. You don’t want to kill me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you know I didn’t kill your son.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

“You can read my eyes?” Mortimer frowned and tried to hide what he was thinking and feeling.

“I can read anyone, it’s part of what I use to do. It comes in handy when you’re part of the law enforcement.

“Then why am I keeping you here instead of letting you go.”

“You don’t have anywhere else to go, I’m your last chance.” Ezra wanted to sit up, he used his good arm and pushed with what strength he had left. It took him a few minutes but he made it. He looked at Mortimer who was staring back at him. “Your dying aren't' you?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Your repeating yourself.”

“Just answer the damn question!” Mortimer grunted.

“I can see . . . “

“It in your eyes.” Mortimer finished for Ezra.

Ezra nodded. “Can I have some water please?”

“You want something to eat as well?”

“Where are you going to get food?” Ezra questioned him.

“I’d have to open the door wouldn’t I.”

“Yes you would.”

“I’ll get you some water.”

“Thank you.”

Ezra watched Mortimer practically crawl across the floor to get to the pitcher of water. Once the cup was full the old man crept back to the cell. The Southerner could see the pain in the eyes as old bones did things they hadn’t done in a while.

Mortimer unlocked the cell and instead of standing up he stayed in the position he was in. He was afraid to stand, the pain that would erupt through his body would be unbearable. His bones were old and fragile, not young and strong like they once were. No, he didn’t have a lot of time left.

Ezra took the water that was handed up to him and drank. The water was warm but he didn’t care, it would ease his dry mouth and force the strong thirst away for a period of time.

“Are you ill?” he dropped the cup on the bed and leaned his head against the wall.

“No.”

“Then what makes you think you’re dying?” Ezra was confused, he read death in the man’s eyes but he wasn’t ill.

“I know my time’s almost up, I can feel it. The body isn’t the same, neither is the mind. I just know that I don’t have a lot of time left.”

“So you’ve convinced yourself that you’re going to die.” Ezra growled, he couldn’t help it. The man was thinking himself to death. If he believed it, then it would happen. He’d seen it before.

“The only think that I’ve convinced myself of is that you killed my son.” Mortimer snapped at him.

“Uh huh,” Ezra nodded, “there is no proof, no admittance of guilt so you’re trying to find something that will allow you to say I’m guilty so you can kill me without feeling any remorse.”

“You killed him.” he muttered.

“No I didn’t Mortimer.”

“But I have to find his killer before I die, I won’t rest if I don’t.”

“You’re not going to find him Mortimer, you know that.” Ezra leaned forward and ignoring his bodies pain he rested his arm on the man’s shoulder. “You should be at rest now, spend your last days doing the things your son would want you to do.”

“If I did that I would fail him. I have to find his killer, for Carl.”

“Now you’re making excuses. Your son wouldn’t want you to spend your life like this.”

“You don’t know what my son would want.”

“Then you tell me what he would have wanted.”

Mortimer twisted around and looked into the green eyes that told him this man was innocent. “I . . . don’t know.”

“Yes you do, what would he want you to do?”

“Carl was a good kid, always happy, didn’t have a bad bone in his body, forgave everybody for anything . . . “

“And?” Ezra pushed.

“He wouldn’t want me to do this.” Mortimer whispered but Ezra still heard him.

Ezra fell back against the wall. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’ve still got some time, you can use it to think.” Ezra told him. “In the meantime, I going to get some rest.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. You think, I’ll sleep.” the gambler lay down. “And Mortimer . . . don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m sorry I shot you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve had worse.”

“You don’t seem to be so forgetful.”

“No . . . “

Mortimer nodded, this person seemed to be a good man, even if his past had been full of deceit and trickery.

“I know now that you didn’t kill my son.”

“Thank you.” Ezra mumbled.

“For what?”

“Believing me . . . not everyone does that . . . “

Mortimer grimaced as he strained to hear the words as the gambler drifted off to sleep. The jail house became silent and lonely. Talking to Ezra made him realise how much he’d missed having friends that he could talk to. Most of all he missed his wife, he didn’t spend her last years with her and it was something that he always regretted; more than not finding the man who’d killed his son.

His eyes searched the window for any sign of the six men who wanted their friend back. If he did stand in front of the window would they really shoot him? He’d shot the gambler, of course they would shoot him. In their minds he was a man that wanted their friend dead and they would do what they could to protect him.

Protect him like he should have protected his son and wife. He could protect his only child while he was alive and now he couldn’t even do the simple task of finding his killer. But it wasn’t simple, it would take more than a life time to find the killer, time that he no longer had. A few months, that was all he had, he knew it in his heart. Was he going to spend that time alone, live with the guilt that had been eating away at him. No, that was something he couldn’t do.

Ezra blinked his eyes trying to clear the confusion in his mind. He had to think, needed to think. Everything was a blur and he wasn’t able to find anything clear enough to remind him what was going on around him. The room he was in wasn’t his, he turned his head to the right, a brick wall. The jail house, what was he doing here. His head then turned to his left. The old man staring at him brought back some of the memories.

“Mortimer?”

“You don’t look very well.” the worry was written all over his face, he would have to let his friends get to him or he was going to die. The last he needed before he died was the death of an innocent man on his mind, he didn’t want to take that to his grave.

“I feel better than I look.” Ezra smiled.

“I’ve decided what I’m going to do.”

“Give me a minute and you can tell me all about it.”

“I don’t have a minute Ezra, besides, you’ll probably try and stop me.”

“Stop you from what? Are you leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you going?”

“Ezra, I want to apologise for what I put you through, none of this was your fault, I found you out on that road after you fell from your horse. I read the letter from your mother, that’s how I knew. I needed to blame someone for my son’s death, I was running out of time and as far as I was concerned the next gambler I found was going to be the one whether he was guilty or not.”

“You wouldn’t have killed an innocent man Mortimer.” Ezra assured him.

“I shot you, it would only be one more step to kill you.”

“You wouldn’t have, you don’t have it in you.”

Mortimer hung his head. “I’m going now Ezra, it was nice to have a conversation before I left. You’re a good man Ezra, I hope you know that. Good bye.”

“Wait and I’ll let them know you’re leaving . . . “

“That won’t be necessary Ezra.”

Ezra watched, first with confusion then sudden dread when he realised what Mortimer was about to do. “NO!” he struggled to get off the bed but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get to Mortimer in time to stop him.

Mortimer stepped in front of the window and raised his gun. He heard a gunshot and felt the sudden pain as the bullet entered his chest. This was it he thought, he was about to die without fulfilling his life’s goal. The only thing that made it easy for him was that he knew he was about to join his wife and son.

Ezra fell to his knees beside the body and forced the pain away as he lifted Mortimer into his arms. “Why?”

“What else . . . was I going . . . to do . . . “

“You could have stayed here, we would have taken care of you.”

“No . . . couldn’t be . . . a . . . burden.”

“Mortimer . . . “ Ezra waited until he had his attention, “I killed your son.”

“No you didn’t . . . “

“Yes I did.” Ezra continued the lie. “I’m a con man remember, I can make you believe anything.”

“You’re lying . . . I know you are . . . just trying . . . to make it . . . easier for . . . me.”

“You can’t die like this.” Ezra heard the door burst open. “GET OUT!”

Chris and the others were stunned at the reaction they received from the gambler.

“GET OUT!”

Chris motioned to the others to leave, he stood in the doorway and watched the scene unfold before him.

“They’re . . . your friends Ezra.”

“They didn’t have to shoot you!”

“What else were . . . they going to . . . do . . . they didn’t know.”

“Shit Mortimer.”

“I know.”

Mortimer’s eyes glazed over and he let out his last breath. Ezra lowered him to the ground and used a trembling hand to close his eyes. He would make sure he received a decent funeral, it’s what he deserved after what he’d been through. He would have returned his body to his home town to be buried with his wife and son but no one would be there to take care of him. He was sure Mortimer wouldn’t mind. It didn’t matter where you buried. If there was life after death he would be with his family.

Ezra felt a hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

“We thought he was going to kill you Ezra.” Chris told him.

Ezra lifted his head and looked up at his friend. “Sorry.”

Chris nodded and helped Ezra to his feet. “Come on, let’s get Nathan to have a look at that shoulder.”

“He walked in front of the window on purpose Chris, knew Vin would shoot him, I told him Vin would. He wanted to die.”

“We can talk about it later Ezra.” he pulled Ezra towards the door but Ezra hesitated. “He needs to be looked after, he’s been alone, I don’t want him to stay that way.”

“You knew him?”

“No, only met him today.”

“I’ll take care of him for you Ezra.” Josiah patted him on the shoulder and walked to the dead man.

“He just needed a friend Josiah.”

“It’s okay Ezra, he’ll be fine.”

Ezra walked away from Mortimer Johnson out onto the boardwalk. The rest of the seven were there waiting for him.

“You didn’t have to kill him Vin.” Ezra muttered as he walked past him.

“Ezra, here, let me have a look at that shoulder.” Nathan walked after him.

“It’s fine Nathan, Mortimer took the bullet out.”

Nathan nodded. “So what did you do to this one, cheat his son out of his money.”

Ezra turned, his fist clenched as tightly as his jaw. Nathan always accused him of doing something that resulted in the trouble that had found him. He’d always kept his mouth shut before thinking that it was a waste of time trying to explain his personality and that he didn’t cheat, or force men into playing against him.

But he didn’t want to talk now, to explain what happened so he used his fists instead. He used his left fist first knowing that the right shoulder would be to painful. The force of the blow didn’t knock the healer off his feet so Ezra hit him again. His anger was growing with each physical blow. He didn’t notice that Nathan was refusing to defend himself. Ezra continued to lash out at Nathan until someone finally dragged him away from the bruised and bloodied Jackson.

“Ezra! Leave him be, he didn’t do anything to you.”

Ezra forced them to let him go, he stepped forward and glared at Nathan with eyes full of anger and disgust.

“Don’t you ever, accuse me of doing something like that without any proof that I’m guilty! Do you understand me! I’m sick of you assuming that I did something every time I get into some trouble! That’s not the case and it’s about time you understood that! I don’t live my life like that anymore.”

“Take it easy Ezra,” Nathan wiped the blood from his cut lip, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yes you did, you always do Nathan!”

“I’m sorry Ezra.”

“No you’re not, you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it!”

“Ezra,” Chris took him by the arm and began to lead him away from Nathan, “you need that shoulder taken care of.”

“I’m fine.” Ezra growled and pulled his arm from Chris’ grip. “I’m going to help Josiah with Mortimer.”

“Ezra!” Chris warned him. He was willing to forcefully take the man to Nathan’s clinic and throw him on the bed and tie him to it.

“I don’t want to hear it Chris, not now.” Ezra walked away from then knowing that he would be stopped before he made it to the door. He was stopped but by a different force; his body. It gave in to the blood loss and physical abuse and collapsed in a heap in the street.

When he woke again his memory was working fine, he remembered what happened, the feelings he felt for Mortimer were strong. The man had been a good family man, a father who had loved his son, a husband who had adored and cherished his wife. But fate had taken over by killing his son, the life he led change dramatically causing him to also lose his wife. He’d spent his final years full of anger and revenge as he searched the country for his son’s murderer. It had ended with the old man killing himself.

Ezra opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above him. He didn’t blame himself, there would have been nothing he could have said or done to change Mortimer’s mind. Johnson’s mind had been corrupted to the point where he could no longer think straight.

A suntanned, rugged face appeared above his, his own green eyes shifted so he could return Chris’ stare. He suddenly felt a deep sorrow fill him at the sight of this man.

“Chris . . . “

“Yeah Ezra, it’s me.” Chris sat back down in the chair he’d spent the night in.

“Promise me, you won’t end up like that.” Ezra turned his head to the side so he could continue to look at his friend.

“Like what Ezra?” Chris frowned at him.

“A man who’s only thought is to find the person responsible for his family’s death. That you won’t spend what time you have searching for them. Be full of anger, hate and the need for revenge. Promise me Chris.”

“I promise Ezra.” Chris bit his lip. “Is that what he was like?”

Ezra nodded. “There was still some good him but he lost everything . . . that shouldn’t happen to anyone, especially you . . . “

“I’ve go to much to lose Ezra, got friends that mean too much to me, don’t want to lose that.”

Ezra nodded again. “He thought I killed his son.” he waited for Chris to ask him if he had.

“You didn’t, even back then you wouldn’t kill anyone unless you had to, you’re not that kind of person Ezra.”

“I know.”

“You never were, he saw that in the end didn’t he?”

“So he said.” Ezra lifted his left arm and touch the area of his skull that had hit the ground. “Wasn’t sure there for a while though, I couldn’t remember if I’d been to Bakersville or not.”

“You didn’t do it Ezra.”

“I’ve been to Bakersville, I remember now, five years ago, that’s when his son was killed.”

“You didn’t do it Ezra.” Chris repeated more firmly.

“What if I did Chris? What if it was different to what he was told? I don’t know anymore.”

“You didn’t do it Ezra.”

“Chris, I’m not forgetful anymore, you don’t have to keep repeating yourself.”

“And I’ll keep saying it until you agree with me Ezra.”

Then we’ll be here all day.

“How’s Nathan?”

“He’ll be fine.” Chris smiled at him. "What did he say to you?”

“Asked what I did to him, if I’d cheated him out of his money.”

“Stupid thing to say.” Chris agreed.

“I didn’t want to keep quiet this time.”

“That’s okay, sounds like he deserved it.”

“I’m not going to apologise for what I did.”

“You don’t have to Ezra.”

“Thanks.”

“Want a drink?”

“Not that stuff that Nathan makes.” Ezra grimaced at the thought of the taste.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a libation.” he smiled at Ezra’s frown and leaned over, he returned to his upright position holding a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “The good stuff.”

“What would Nathan say.” Ezra smiled.

“We don’t care.” Chris poured two shots while Ezra shifted himself into a better drinking position. “Here’s to Mortimer.”

“Mortimer Johnson,” Ezra added, “and to a promise.”

“To a promise.” Chris agreed.

The End