Appearances, Mag7/HL, slash, R, 3/4
ETA: Final, beta'd version here.
Part 1
Part 2
Vin paused on the stairs, unsurprised to find Ezra still in the saloon finishing another of his games of solitaire. Ezra did it to think, same way Vin watched the clouds and wind. Ezra reached over and tugged a chair out for him. "You're up and about late, Mr. Tanner. All is well, I hope?"
"Better'n I'd have thought, Ez." Ezra didn't react, but Vin sighed, and said, "Ezra. Yeah, sorry. Pretty late."
Ezra nodded, hands and eyes on his game again. His voice was there and alive, however, not absent as it got when he was planning something else entirely. "Extremely late for you, Mr. Tanner. May I be of assistance? If, say, you're worried about Mr. McCormick...?"
Vin smiled. "Nah, he's not after me. Gave me his word on that. Said he wasn't going to change his mind 'bout it, either."
Ezra looked up from his game, eyes bright and intrigued despite the late hour -- no wonder he hated morning patrols as much as Vin hated night ones. Vin knew he looked tired, knew as well that he'd get maybe a couple hours of sleep before he had to wake up. He'd be cranky tomorrow, too. "He said that? When?"
Vin tried not to look as embarrassed as he felt about holding the man up in his own room. "Five minutes ago."
Ezra watched him, eyes wide and startled for a moment before he started laughing -- the slow, soft sound that laughed with a man rather than at him. "I should have asked you to try my questions as well. Instead I've traded two dollars and as many hours to find out he's looking for a green-eyed conman who'd happily protect a town, but wouldn't join the law to do so."
Vin shifted in the chair, back paining him as he'd never admit but all the Seven knew to watch for. Ezra played two more cards rather than have Vin think he'd noticed, but that was just Ez being nice, the way he tried to pretend he never was. "Worth it, maybe, 'cause I didn't get a description from him. Did find out he don't scare easy -- McCormick, I mean -- and he's looking for this Corwin as much 'cause he's kin as 'cause he's a friend. Said he heard rumors he might be here."
Ezra nodded very thoughtfully. "Corwin? That's hardly a common name."
"Surely ain't," Vin agreed. "Don't think I've ever met someone with the name. Ezra, McCormick looks like he could be a Pinkerton, and this ain't the first time someone's held a gun on him. But he laughs 'bout the damnedest things."
"He is rather relaxed for one of their detectives on a job," Ezra agreed, gathering in the deadlocked game and shuffling the cards. "If he gave you his word, I strongly suspect it's good. He's not after you, Mr. Tanner, and I don't believe he's after me, either. Have you any idea why Mr. Larabee was so sure he was a threat?"
"Nathan recognized him, said three years ago McCormick came through Abilene workin' for Pinkerton. Came and warned me and Chris at the same time." Vin frowned, puzzling it through. "Nathan don't make mistakes 'bout that kind of thing."
"I'm quite sure Mr. Jackson did see Mr. McCormick, and that the gentleman was working for Pinkerton at the time. Three years is quite long enough for a man to change jobs, however," Ezra pointed out, dealing out his cards again. "Notice that we seven were not here three years ago. But he gave you his word that he was looking for a man named Corwin?"
Vin nodded. "Said after that he wasn't looking for me, and wasn't planning to change that." He glanced at Ezra. "And he ain't after you?"
Ezra studied his cards, tapping a thumb irritably on a pair of caught queens. "I don't think so, no, Mr. Tanner. It would be a truly inopportune time for Mother to come through, but that is another matter entirely."
"Yeah, might at that. Your ma and McCormick in one place might just about give Chris apoplexy." Vin studied the cards. "Pity jacks can't play on kings. Them queens're surely locked." Vin yawned, belatedly covering his mouth. "Sorry, Ezra."
Ezra waved off the apology and his voice was a hundred miles away, thinking fast about a dozen things at once, as he said, "Think nothing of it, Mr. Tanner. Go, sleep what few hours are left in the night, sir. This is more my time than yours. If I think of some useful plan, I'll tell you at noon."
Vin stood up, shoulders shrugging up and back in an attempt to ease his back. "I'll do that. Noon? You thinkin' he ain't gonna leave?"
Ezra laughed softly. "He's not done, no, Mr. Tanner. If nothing else, I do believe he's enjoying goading Mr. Larabee, a game whose attraction I must confess I understand."
Vin groaned. "Maybe we'd better find this Corwin for him."
"And deny Mr. McCormick his pleasure in the hunt?" Ezra laughed softly. "No. I could not in good conscience recommend that, either. Go, Mr. Tanner, sleep to plan again."
Vin nodded to him and left through the back of the saloon. There was a comfortable spot in the livery hayloft to sleep the rest of the night and maybe through the first hour past dawn. Ezra sliding into poetic mode could be anything from the late hour to another Southerner like him in town. Nothing to worry about yet anyway -- more like the high wisps of mare's tails that sometimes ran ahead of storms and sometimes just ran 'cause the high winds were too pretty to resist. Or so Vin suspected.
It didn't surprise him to hear Ezra shuffle and deal a new game as he left.
# # #
Matthew replaced another issue of The Rocky Mountain News on the shelf and took a sip from his cup of tea. "I greatly appreciate this, Mrs. Travis."
Mary Travis glanced up from the article she was writing for the next edition of her own paper, the Clarion. The sunlight reflected almost as brightly from her upswept hair as from the small buttons on her sleeve, and she sat in clear view of the window, as close to chaperonage as was possible in a small Western town. The habit made Matthew wonder if she'd not been long in the West or if she'd had trouble over her reputation.
"It's a more than fair trade for the doughnuts, Mr. McCormick. I haven't had these since my last trip to Denver."
Matthew smiled. "You might wish to speak to Señorita Recillos then, ma'am. She has the recipe now."
"We'll get more visitors through Four Corners once word gets of them gets out." Matthew had already heard rumors of which towns had good food or a better general store than most, and he'd only been west of St. Louis a few weeks. He didn't doubt good doughnuts could be a draw. Mary Travis glanced over and inquired, "Could I be of any help in your search?"
It was a kind offer and well-meant, Matthew thought, but he heard a faint trace of a reporter's curiosity in it as well as an attractive woman's interest in new doings in a small town. No surprise; he was a stranger in Four Corners, and no doubt she'd already written of his brief detainment yesterday. So Matthew smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, but no. If we were tracking across ground, I could sketch out what the footprint or the mark of hoof and horseshoe. Hunting a man through newspaper articles, I simply have to keep reading. I'll know him if I find him."
Mary Travis smiled politely at him, too polite to let her doubts into her voice, and bent her attention to her manuscript again. Matthew picked up the next back-issue of the News and began reading through, hunting for surprise donations to charities, bank robberies, stolen horses at outlying farms suddenly grown rich, or anything else that might indicate Cory had been in the area.
A small blond boy came through in a tumult of dust, mud, and desire for one of the remaining doughnuts. He retreated again leaving behind his name (Billy Travis, Mary's son), an emptier plate, and the news that 'Vin and Buck' had ridden out to make sure the Denver coach was all right, since it was running late.
Matthew forced down the temptation to join them for the ride and the company. And, he admitted to himself, the pleasure of goading Chris Larabee a little farther. The man could use a good fistfight to blow off some of his accumulated spleen, and after his afternoon in a cell, Matthew would have no hesitation in accommodating him. But it was all too possible that the peacekeepers might decide to issue an invitation to ride out of town when the stage left again, so Matthew stayed to continue his research while he still could.
He exhausted the back-issues of the News and went on to the local news, and smiled a thank you when Mrs. Travis offered more tea. "I'd welcome more, Mrs. Travis. I've not had tea this good since I left St. Louis."
She smiled, pleased. "It's a pleasure to find another tea-drinker, Mr. McCormick. Most of the town prefers coffee." She stood, gathering up the tea tray, and waved him back to his seat when he stood with her. "Please, don't let me stop you reading. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Buried as he was in the news that Nettie Wells had bought a new plow, Ira Treadwell had come off the worse for wear in a mid-Main Street altercation with his wife, Jessamine, and Nathan Jackson would appreciate any information on local sources for boneset and honey, Matthew lost track of time until he heard his hostess return. He stood to give her a hand with the tea tray, but she set it down on the edge of her desk.
"It needs a few minutes more to steep." She continued to study Matthew, but not as a woman interested in a new man in town. It reminded Matthew more of a judge looking over a new plaintiff in his court. He met her gaze steadily, waiting her out and conceding nothing.
She finally shifted her gaze to the teapot, lifting the lid to check the color, then pouring out more tea for them both. She filled Matthew's cup first, which made him think he'd likely passed muster. She offered him sugar and milk, but like her, he drank his tea unaltered. "It's very good," he said, keeping his voice as appreciative and sincere as it would have been without the inspection.
"Vin Tanner is a good man," she told him seriously. "And I mean that in both the Eastern sense, Mr. McCormick, and the Western one."
"That he'd be a good man at my back in a fight?" Matthew nodded. "I've met him, ma'am. I don't dispute either of those in the least, despite Mr. Larabee's apprehensions. A great deal of my trouble here has come from no one accepting my statement that I am not here after Mr. Tanner. If you had a Bible handy, I would be willing to swear to that, although I've been involved in court cases where I've had to give fewer oaths." Between the sleep, the tea, and the chance to research his real project, Matthew was still amused by the matter, and it bled into his tone.
A widow who could keep running a newspaper in a frontier town was no fool, and she promptly reminded him of it. "I believe you even without the oath, Mr. McCormick, but I do have to wonder why you're still here. Four Corners is not a town with a great deal of attractions for a man from the big cities of the East."
Matthew shrugged. "I've been to San Francisco as well, Mrs. Travis, and New Orleans. Not all the cities are in the East, and not all of them are so attractive as might be supposed, I assure you. Washington City is a marshy haven for malaria and fevers in the fall, Philadelphia has its charms, but a man has to be very fond indeed of red brick to appreciate them properly, and it will be years yet before Savannah or Charleston regain their charms, to say nothing at all of Atlanta."
"And you're trying to distract me." She sipped her tea again, her pencil still abandoned on a pile of foolscap.
He kept his laughter contained within smile and voice. "I'm beginning to wonder if I've wandered into some Shakespearean farce.... It's only a distraction if you choose to be distracted, ma'am," Matthew said. "I was merely commenting that the draw of the cities can be overestimated. Truth be told, if I were to head to one of the cities now, it would be Denver or on out to San Francisco."
"Then why are you here?" Mary Travis asked bluntly. "If not for Mr. Tanner."
"Mr. Tanner is a courteous soul and a gentleman. I have no quarrel with him, nor am I hunting him. At the moment, I'm here because the gossip in these papers is a more efficient a way to track down my friend than exhausting myself and my horse on the trail to Denver or Santa Fe." Matthew shrugged and added, "And Señorita Recillos' beds are dust-free, and her cooking is excellent."
Mary Travis's regard stayed skeptical until he mentioned that. "I imagine it is an improvement on bedrolls and trail food, yes."
"Even watching for herbs, Mrs. Travis, a man can very quickly tire of beans for lunch and dinner, alternated with dried meat and journeybread -- if there's time to cook the bread, or it hasn't gone stale in your saddlebags since the evening before." Matthew added, amused by his own complaints, "And that doesn't address the matter of coffee that never lasts out the trip, scavenging coyotes, squirrels that think they should get your bread, the hazards of Indian resentment of white men traveling their lands and killing their meat sources.... I assure you, Señorita Recillos' bed and board is a very good reason to still be here."
Mary Travis was chuckling and scribbling notes. "Mr. McCormick, if this should end up in a newspaper after you've ridden out...?"
Matthew laughed. "Rarely heard a man complain so?"
"Not and make me laugh about it like this, no." She finished jotting notes and looked up at him.
Matthew didn't point out that he surely couldn't stop her if he wasn't there; he did prefer to stop her now. "For my dignity's sake -- what of it is left by now," and he suspected she could hear how amusing he found its loss, "-- if I could be anonymous?"
"Certainly." Mary Travis chuckled and sipped at her tea, then poured more for both of them. "I'll even let you help me with the copy when your eyes want a break from the papers."
"Thank you, ma'am." Matthew chuckled and went back to his reading. With any luck, she'd be busy enough with her articles not to press for Cory's name, especially since Matthew wasn't entirely sure which one he was using this century.
# # #
Part 4
Part 1
Part 2
Vin paused on the stairs, unsurprised to find Ezra still in the saloon finishing another of his games of solitaire. Ezra did it to think, same way Vin watched the clouds and wind. Ezra reached over and tugged a chair out for him. "You're up and about late, Mr. Tanner. All is well, I hope?"
"Better'n I'd have thought, Ez." Ezra didn't react, but Vin sighed, and said, "Ezra. Yeah, sorry. Pretty late."
Ezra nodded, hands and eyes on his game again. His voice was there and alive, however, not absent as it got when he was planning something else entirely. "Extremely late for you, Mr. Tanner. May I be of assistance? If, say, you're worried about Mr. McCormick...?"
Vin smiled. "Nah, he's not after me. Gave me his word on that. Said he wasn't going to change his mind 'bout it, either."
Ezra looked up from his game, eyes bright and intrigued despite the late hour -- no wonder he hated morning patrols as much as Vin hated night ones. Vin knew he looked tired, knew as well that he'd get maybe a couple hours of sleep before he had to wake up. He'd be cranky tomorrow, too. "He said that? When?"
Vin tried not to look as embarrassed as he felt about holding the man up in his own room. "Five minutes ago."
Ezra watched him, eyes wide and startled for a moment before he started laughing -- the slow, soft sound that laughed with a man rather than at him. "I should have asked you to try my questions as well. Instead I've traded two dollars and as many hours to find out he's looking for a green-eyed conman who'd happily protect a town, but wouldn't join the law to do so."
Vin shifted in the chair, back paining him as he'd never admit but all the Seven knew to watch for. Ezra played two more cards rather than have Vin think he'd noticed, but that was just Ez being nice, the way he tried to pretend he never was. "Worth it, maybe, 'cause I didn't get a description from him. Did find out he don't scare easy -- McCormick, I mean -- and he's looking for this Corwin as much 'cause he's kin as 'cause he's a friend. Said he heard rumors he might be here."
Ezra nodded very thoughtfully. "Corwin? That's hardly a common name."
"Surely ain't," Vin agreed. "Don't think I've ever met someone with the name. Ezra, McCormick looks like he could be a Pinkerton, and this ain't the first time someone's held a gun on him. But he laughs 'bout the damnedest things."
"He is rather relaxed for one of their detectives on a job," Ezra agreed, gathering in the deadlocked game and shuffling the cards. "If he gave you his word, I strongly suspect it's good. He's not after you, Mr. Tanner, and I don't believe he's after me, either. Have you any idea why Mr. Larabee was so sure he was a threat?"
"Nathan recognized him, said three years ago McCormick came through Abilene workin' for Pinkerton. Came and warned me and Chris at the same time." Vin frowned, puzzling it through. "Nathan don't make mistakes 'bout that kind of thing."
"I'm quite sure Mr. Jackson did see Mr. McCormick, and that the gentleman was working for Pinkerton at the time. Three years is quite long enough for a man to change jobs, however," Ezra pointed out, dealing out his cards again. "Notice that we seven were not here three years ago. But he gave you his word that he was looking for a man named Corwin?"
Vin nodded. "Said after that he wasn't looking for me, and wasn't planning to change that." He glanced at Ezra. "And he ain't after you?"
Ezra studied his cards, tapping a thumb irritably on a pair of caught queens. "I don't think so, no, Mr. Tanner. It would be a truly inopportune time for Mother to come through, but that is another matter entirely."
"Yeah, might at that. Your ma and McCormick in one place might just about give Chris apoplexy." Vin studied the cards. "Pity jacks can't play on kings. Them queens're surely locked." Vin yawned, belatedly covering his mouth. "Sorry, Ezra."
Ezra waved off the apology and his voice was a hundred miles away, thinking fast about a dozen things at once, as he said, "Think nothing of it, Mr. Tanner. Go, sleep what few hours are left in the night, sir. This is more my time than yours. If I think of some useful plan, I'll tell you at noon."
Vin stood up, shoulders shrugging up and back in an attempt to ease his back. "I'll do that. Noon? You thinkin' he ain't gonna leave?"
Ezra laughed softly. "He's not done, no, Mr. Tanner. If nothing else, I do believe he's enjoying goading Mr. Larabee, a game whose attraction I must confess I understand."
Vin groaned. "Maybe we'd better find this Corwin for him."
"And deny Mr. McCormick his pleasure in the hunt?" Ezra laughed softly. "No. I could not in good conscience recommend that, either. Go, Mr. Tanner, sleep to plan again."
Vin nodded to him and left through the back of the saloon. There was a comfortable spot in the livery hayloft to sleep the rest of the night and maybe through the first hour past dawn. Ezra sliding into poetic mode could be anything from the late hour to another Southerner like him in town. Nothing to worry about yet anyway -- more like the high wisps of mare's tails that sometimes ran ahead of storms and sometimes just ran 'cause the high winds were too pretty to resist. Or so Vin suspected.
It didn't surprise him to hear Ezra shuffle and deal a new game as he left.
# # #
Matthew replaced another issue of The Rocky Mountain News on the shelf and took a sip from his cup of tea. "I greatly appreciate this, Mrs. Travis."
Mary Travis glanced up from the article she was writing for the next edition of her own paper, the Clarion. The sunlight reflected almost as brightly from her upswept hair as from the small buttons on her sleeve, and she sat in clear view of the window, as close to chaperonage as was possible in a small Western town. The habit made Matthew wonder if she'd not been long in the West or if she'd had trouble over her reputation.
"It's a more than fair trade for the doughnuts, Mr. McCormick. I haven't had these since my last trip to Denver."
Matthew smiled. "You might wish to speak to Señorita Recillos then, ma'am. She has the recipe now."
"We'll get more visitors through Four Corners once word gets of them gets out." Matthew had already heard rumors of which towns had good food or a better general store than most, and he'd only been west of St. Louis a few weeks. He didn't doubt good doughnuts could be a draw. Mary Travis glanced over and inquired, "Could I be of any help in your search?"
It was a kind offer and well-meant, Matthew thought, but he heard a faint trace of a reporter's curiosity in it as well as an attractive woman's interest in new doings in a small town. No surprise; he was a stranger in Four Corners, and no doubt she'd already written of his brief detainment yesterday. So Matthew smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, but no. If we were tracking across ground, I could sketch out what the footprint or the mark of hoof and horseshoe. Hunting a man through newspaper articles, I simply have to keep reading. I'll know him if I find him."
Mary Travis smiled politely at him, too polite to let her doubts into her voice, and bent her attention to her manuscript again. Matthew picked up the next back-issue of the News and began reading through, hunting for surprise donations to charities, bank robberies, stolen horses at outlying farms suddenly grown rich, or anything else that might indicate Cory had been in the area.
A small blond boy came through in a tumult of dust, mud, and desire for one of the remaining doughnuts. He retreated again leaving behind his name (Billy Travis, Mary's son), an emptier plate, and the news that 'Vin and Buck' had ridden out to make sure the Denver coach was all right, since it was running late.
Matthew forced down the temptation to join them for the ride and the company. And, he admitted to himself, the pleasure of goading Chris Larabee a little farther. The man could use a good fistfight to blow off some of his accumulated spleen, and after his afternoon in a cell, Matthew would have no hesitation in accommodating him. But it was all too possible that the peacekeepers might decide to issue an invitation to ride out of town when the stage left again, so Matthew stayed to continue his research while he still could.
He exhausted the back-issues of the News and went on to the local news, and smiled a thank you when Mrs. Travis offered more tea. "I'd welcome more, Mrs. Travis. I've not had tea this good since I left St. Louis."
She smiled, pleased. "It's a pleasure to find another tea-drinker, Mr. McCormick. Most of the town prefers coffee." She stood, gathering up the tea tray, and waved him back to his seat when he stood with her. "Please, don't let me stop you reading. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Buried as he was in the news that Nettie Wells had bought a new plow, Ira Treadwell had come off the worse for wear in a mid-Main Street altercation with his wife, Jessamine, and Nathan Jackson would appreciate any information on local sources for boneset and honey, Matthew lost track of time until he heard his hostess return. He stood to give her a hand with the tea tray, but she set it down on the edge of her desk.
"It needs a few minutes more to steep." She continued to study Matthew, but not as a woman interested in a new man in town. It reminded Matthew more of a judge looking over a new plaintiff in his court. He met her gaze steadily, waiting her out and conceding nothing.
She finally shifted her gaze to the teapot, lifting the lid to check the color, then pouring out more tea for them both. She filled Matthew's cup first, which made him think he'd likely passed muster. She offered him sugar and milk, but like her, he drank his tea unaltered. "It's very good," he said, keeping his voice as appreciative and sincere as it would have been without the inspection.
"Vin Tanner is a good man," she told him seriously. "And I mean that in both the Eastern sense, Mr. McCormick, and the Western one."
"That he'd be a good man at my back in a fight?" Matthew nodded. "I've met him, ma'am. I don't dispute either of those in the least, despite Mr. Larabee's apprehensions. A great deal of my trouble here has come from no one accepting my statement that I am not here after Mr. Tanner. If you had a Bible handy, I would be willing to swear to that, although I've been involved in court cases where I've had to give fewer oaths." Between the sleep, the tea, and the chance to research his real project, Matthew was still amused by the matter, and it bled into his tone.
A widow who could keep running a newspaper in a frontier town was no fool, and she promptly reminded him of it. "I believe you even without the oath, Mr. McCormick, but I do have to wonder why you're still here. Four Corners is not a town with a great deal of attractions for a man from the big cities of the East."
Matthew shrugged. "I've been to San Francisco as well, Mrs. Travis, and New Orleans. Not all the cities are in the East, and not all of them are so attractive as might be supposed, I assure you. Washington City is a marshy haven for malaria and fevers in the fall, Philadelphia has its charms, but a man has to be very fond indeed of red brick to appreciate them properly, and it will be years yet before Savannah or Charleston regain their charms, to say nothing at all of Atlanta."
"And you're trying to distract me." She sipped her tea again, her pencil still abandoned on a pile of foolscap.
He kept his laughter contained within smile and voice. "I'm beginning to wonder if I've wandered into some Shakespearean farce.... It's only a distraction if you choose to be distracted, ma'am," Matthew said. "I was merely commenting that the draw of the cities can be overestimated. Truth be told, if I were to head to one of the cities now, it would be Denver or on out to San Francisco."
"Then why are you here?" Mary Travis asked bluntly. "If not for Mr. Tanner."
"Mr. Tanner is a courteous soul and a gentleman. I have no quarrel with him, nor am I hunting him. At the moment, I'm here because the gossip in these papers is a more efficient a way to track down my friend than exhausting myself and my horse on the trail to Denver or Santa Fe." Matthew shrugged and added, "And Señorita Recillos' beds are dust-free, and her cooking is excellent."
Mary Travis's regard stayed skeptical until he mentioned that. "I imagine it is an improvement on bedrolls and trail food, yes."
"Even watching for herbs, Mrs. Travis, a man can very quickly tire of beans for lunch and dinner, alternated with dried meat and journeybread -- if there's time to cook the bread, or it hasn't gone stale in your saddlebags since the evening before." Matthew added, amused by his own complaints, "And that doesn't address the matter of coffee that never lasts out the trip, scavenging coyotes, squirrels that think they should get your bread, the hazards of Indian resentment of white men traveling their lands and killing their meat sources.... I assure you, Señorita Recillos' bed and board is a very good reason to still be here."
Mary Travis was chuckling and scribbling notes. "Mr. McCormick, if this should end up in a newspaper after you've ridden out...?"
Matthew laughed. "Rarely heard a man complain so?"
"Not and make me laugh about it like this, no." She finished jotting notes and looked up at him.
Matthew didn't point out that he surely couldn't stop her if he wasn't there; he did prefer to stop her now. "For my dignity's sake -- what of it is left by now," and he suspected she could hear how amusing he found its loss, "-- if I could be anonymous?"
"Certainly." Mary Travis chuckled and sipped at her tea, then poured more for both of them. "I'll even let you help me with the copy when your eyes want a break from the papers."
"Thank you, ma'am." Matthew chuckled and went back to his reading. With any luck, she'd be busy enough with her articles not to press for Cory's name, especially since Matthew wasn't entirely sure which one he was using this century.
# # #
Part 4