6th story, Two Wolves by sablecain, Part two
Title: Two Wolves
Fandom: Magnificent Seven
Author: sablecain
Artist: bookaddict43
Disclaimer: The mag7 belong to Mirish, MGM, Trilogy and all those big names. No copyright infringement intended
Character/Pairing: Ezra Standish
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language
Warnings: violence and language
Summary: sequel to ‘The Samaritan’s Choice’-someone’s out for revenge and Ezra is their target
Authors Notes: Very deep thanks go to NotTasha for her willingness to beta for me. She rocks.
Ezra knew he was being unreasonable. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help them. Not when he was so messed up inside. He slowly slid onto one of the benches along the walkway, leaning back against the building and set the bottle of whiskey on the bench next to him. He closed his eyes. His head throbbed and the ache in his leg pulsed along with it. The anger and unfeeling shield that had come with the initial intake of alcohol was fading. It was leaving him lost again in a maelstrom of emotion and fear.
Who was starting the fires? Was it the same mysterious person waiting out there to get to him? Or was it all his imagination? Was his fear paralyzing him?
He heard the heavy footsteps and tensed as someone sat down beside him.
“Nice morning,” Josiah commented.
Ezra sighed and opened his eyes. “I suppose.”
Josiah grinned. “You don’t sound as angry as you were trying so hard to be a few moments ago,” he pointed out, suddenly serious.
Ezra stiffened and started rise but Josiah simply reached out and grabbed his forearm. “Hear me out.”
“Do I have a choice?” Ezra demanded harshly, glaring down at the hand on his arm.
“Of course.” Josiah’s hand loosened but he didn’t let go. “Please.”
Ezra deflated again. “Fine,” he motioned with his free hand. “What wisdom do you have to share with me today?” he asked sarcastically.
Ignoring the snide tone, Josiah leaned back beside the Southerner, making himself comfortable.
“There was a time,” he started, looking out at the street, his voice was low but strong. “My father took us onto a Cherokee reservation. I was pretty young then and my sister was just a toddler. The chief’s wife took care of her and I tended to follow that woman around everywhere. All the children did. She’d set us down and tell us stories and share her wisdom.”
The sound of Josiah’s voice assured Ezra that his friend was smiling at the memory. Though he didn’t want to hear whatever story Josiah was intent on sharing, the tone of the preacher’s voice lulled him, relaxing him despite his agitation. No matter how much he tried to focus on his anger…he trusted Josiah.
“My favorite one, it was the parable of ‘Two Wolves’. See an old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life…
‘A fight is going on inside me,’ he said to the boy. ‘It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self doubt and ego.’” Josiah paused before continuing, letting his words settle between them.
“’ The other is good- he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.
This same fight is going on inside you and inside of every other person, too,’ the grandfather told the boy.
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, ‘which wolf will win?’
The old Chief simply replied, ‘The one you feed.’”
Josiah looked at Ezra then. “I know you’re torn up inside. The memories of what happened to you feel like they’re tearing you apart and taking over but Ezra…” the grip on Ezra’s arm tightened. “You are not alone in this. No matter how much it feels that way. Please. Please remember that. Hang on to that. Don’t feed the anger and the fear…fight it, Brother. Fight it.”
Ezra stared after Sanchez, watching Josiah re-enter the saloon, the man’s words echoing through his mind. Was it really that easy? Could he simply just- fight- the feelings and terror? How? It was so much easier to embrace the anger. To hold onto it, cling to it, and feel strengthened by it…but was it real? Did it help him?
Noise from inside the saloon drew his attention. Someone was yelling. Pushing back to his feet, Ezra moved as quickly as he was able to see what was going on inside.
“What are you going to do about it?”
A man he didn’t recognize was standing toe to toe with Chris, his face flushed with rage. “Someone’s burning us out! They’re threatening our families. You,” he said, jabbing at Larabee’s chest , “and your men are supposed to be protecting us!” He moved to jab Chris again, but Chris moved faster, grabbing the man’s wrist and turning it just enough. The man howled and the place erupted.
“Don’t you hurt him!”
A bottle flew at Chris, clipping him before he had the time to duck out of the way. Buck and Vin sprang into action and from his viewpoint, Ezra watched.
JD and Josiah stood, ready to intervene. Inez ducked behind the bar.
Ezra tried to stay tight to the wall as the brawl exploded full force. Josiah caught one settler by the collar and flung him away from Nathan.
A bottle exploded against the wall beside Ezra, glass flying. He ducked, but shards caught him, cutting a slice into his cheek. A chair crashed somewhere nearby, he heard the wood splintering followed by Nathan’s frantic, “Ezra, look out!”
Ezra turned, but not in time. The weapon hit him like club across his bad shoulder. His vision blurred as pain erupted, so sharp it drove him back and into the wall. He heard someone scream, “NO!” just before his shoulder was hit a second time. His world went black and silent.
Chuck laughed as he rolled out of the saloon, ducking under the batwing doors and hurrying down the street with a handful of other men. The crude club he’d made from the smashed chair still in his hand. He tossed it aside in case any of the other peacekeepers decided to come after him, but he was pretty sure they were distracted enough trying to calm the fight and take care of the injured.
It hadn’t taken long to get old Joe Cirus stirred up. Between dropping a few muttered comments about how the peacekeepers weren’t doing a very good job of watching over the new homesteads and the tension already filling the place, Joe was easy to set off.
Miller hadn’t expected Cirus to go right for Larabee. The man certainly had some guts, but the result, for Chuck, was perfect. It’d let him get to Standish.
Oh how much he’d wanted to actually get up in the Southerner’s face and let himself be recognized, but he knew…the time wasn’t right for that. Not yet. Striking out physically would have to be enough for now.
He’d seen how the other six seemed to be circling their wagons protectively around Standish. He hadn’t expected that. As much as he tried to make the gambler lose his mind…the other peacekeepers seemed to be standing by their friend regardless. It was time to up the ante a bit. He’d laid the groundwork earlier, once he’d seen Standish outside the saloon and now everything should work just right. He just needed to wait.
How much longer would the other men stand by Standish? How far gone did his mind have to be before they would desert him, too?
He didn’t imagine Standish holding up too well at all now. Not between his injury and the surprise that awaited him. And, Chuck slowed to a walk, ducking down an alley and skirting behind the livery to where he’d left his horse, if none of that worked to break Standish, that’d be alright, too. It just meant it would be time to move on to the next phase of his plan. The final phase.
Hands. Hands were on him. Pain.
Ezra came awake struggling, panicked by the memory of too many hands bring only pain.
“Easy, Ezra, it’s okay.” He heard Jackson’s voice but it didn’t register at first.
“Ezra, stop moving, brother.” Josiah.
Slowly awareness returned. He stilled, but flinched as strong fingers worked his shoulder.
“It’s not out,” Jackson said. “And not broken either, I don’t think.” Relief was audible in the healer’s voice. “Ezra, can you move it?”
Forcing himself to open his eyes and try, Ezra tentatively tried to move his arm. The pain was excruciating, but he was able to move. He groaned in spite of himself.
“Careful,” Nathan warned again. “It’s bruised good.”
“That’s an understatement,” Buck ‘s comment drew Ezra’s attention and that’s when he realized he was surrounded by everyone. The saloon was empty except for them. Inez watched, worriedly from the bar.
He was shirtless.
“What?”
“How in the world can you barely be in the same room as the fight and end up the most significantly injured is beyond me,” Nathan fussed as he gently adjusted the angle of Ezra’s arm. “Where’s the sling I made for you?”
“I,” Ezra looked around again. “Where’s my coat…my shirt?”
Vin grinned. “Here.” He held up the garments in question.
“That guy went right at him,” JD told them. Ezra realized then that JD was standing beside Larabee, who was seated in a chair with a rag held to his own head. His eyes met Chris’.
“I’m fine,” Chris assured.
Nathan nodded, responding to both Chris and JD. “Chris just got clipped. Has a goose egg, but JD’s right, seemed like that guy targeted your bad shoulder.”
Ezra flinched again as Jackson dabbed at the cut on his cheek.
“I don’t understand,” he managed.
“I don’t either,” Chris growled, obviously frustrated.
“Your sling?” Nathan prodded again.
Ezra looked from Chris to Nathan. “My room.”
“I’ll go.” Buck started toward the stairs, but Standish spoke quickly, stopping him.
“I’d like to…”he waved his good arm indicating he’d like to get up off the filthy floor and go to his room himself. “It’ll be easier for me to find,” he explained at Nathan’s questioning look.
“Fine, you need the rest anyways. Buck,” Nathan called Wilmington back. “Help us get him on his feet.”
“I’m perfectly capable…” Ezra protested but Josiah cut him off.
“Let us help.”
“I don’t want you jarring your shoulder more before I can get it better stabilized, “Jackson explained. “Just in case.”
Ezra saw the concern in their eyes and acquiesced despite the weakness he felt. With his good hand, he reached out. Josiah slid into place beside him. Nathan held his injured arm still while Buck stood behind him.
Once he was on his feet, he swayed slightly.
“You good?” Vin asked.
“I believe so.”
Nathan insisted on helping him up the stairs, hovering beside him in case he lost his balance, but thankfully Ezra remained upright for the climb.
“What happened?” he asked the healer as they reached the top of the steps.
“You don’t remember?” Jackson’s voice filled with renewed concern.
“I know I got hit but…by who?”
Nathan shook his head. “No idea. I didn’t see his face just that he seemed to target you. It was like he knew you’d been hurt.” Nathan squeezed Ezra’s arm slightly. “We were too busy settling the fight and checking on you and Chris to chase after him. When you went down, I thought for sure…”
They were almost to Ezra’s door when Standish suddenly stopped walking.
“What is it?” Nathan looked at his frozen friend. Terror was etched on Ezra’s face, he began to tremble uncontrollably.
“Ezra?”
Standish didn’t respond, he simply stared at the door to his room.
Nathan followed the frightened gaze and gasped in shock. There, hanging on the doorknob to Ezra’s room hung a worn leather belt. Nathan immediately recognized it as looking exactly, if not being the same one that had been used to torture Ezra in Bainbridge. It was the weapon used to strangle his friend so badly it’d left a scar on the back of Ezra’s neck where the buckle had cut into the skin.
“Chris!” Nathan shouted for Larabee and the others even as he felt Ezra’s leg give out beside him. He caught his friend and held on.
“It’s okay, Ezra. It’s going to be okay,” he repeated over and over even as he promised himself that this was not going to happen to Standish again. Whoever was targeting his friend was going to pay, even if Nathan had to find them and kill them himself.
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Chris paced the hallway outside of Ezra’s room, gripping the leather belt in his hand. His anger boiling now, as the ramifications of the belt’s appearance were realized.
This was about more than Ezra reliving the attack. Someone was orchestrating this, torturing Standish mentally, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of his sanity.
Larabee wanted to destroy something, someone.
“Cowboy.” Vin’s voice was low and soothing, the tone he might use if he was trying to approach a wild horse.
“What?” Chris snapped at the tracker, in no mood to be soothed.
“He’s going to be alright.”
“We don’t know that.” Chris waved the belt in Vin’s direction. “This…” his anger peaked as he looked at the detested piece of leather. He flung it forcefully away from him, watching as it slammed against the wall and landed on the floor.
“I know,” Tanner went to the belt and scooped it up again, winding it into a tight coil. His fingers lingered on the cold metal of the buckle.
“What do you want with it?” Chris demanded, not understanding why Vin didn’t just leave it.
“Wanna make sure it’s not used against him again,” Tanner answered practically.
Chris sighed. He hadn’t thought of that. Of course he didn’t point out that someone could use any belt as a symbol of what happened. He hoped to God that it wouldn’t happen again. At least he knew that the six other peacekeepers were going to do everything possible to prevent anyone from getting to Ezra again.
At Nathan’s initial yell everyone had run upstairs, but once they were certain there was no immediate danger, Chris had sent Buck and JD back downstairs to keep an eye on things. Folks had started to filter back into the saloon now that the brawl had ended and Larabee didn’t need anyone wandering upstairs and nosing into Ezra’s business.
Josiah was outside, subtly watching over what was happening around town and looking out for any obvious signs of foul play. Nathan had ushered Ezra into the privacy of his room.
Standish had tried to insist that he was fine, but even once the initial fright had passed, the southerner continued to shake uncontrollably. Nathan had feared that between the assault downstairs and finding the belt, Ezra might go into shock.
Chris ran his fingers through his hair. “Who’s doing this?”
“Someone one who looks a hell of a lot like Tom Wyler,” Vin answered looking at Chris knowingly.
“Family.”
It clicked together confirming Chris’ fears that the ‘sightings’ Ezra had been having were more than just memories of his trauma.
They were silent a moment, obviously mulling over the realization.
“Think it’s linked to the fires?” Vin questioned.
It made sense, Chris thought. Tom Wyler had tried to get the land deeds from Ezra. He was the man behind the attack on Standish. They knew that he’d sent telegrams to someone in Four Corners, but they’d never been able to find that someone. If Wyler’s partner had been family, then when Vin killed Tom…Wyler’s family might be looking for revenge.
“Why not me?” Vin asked suddenly as if he’d followed Larabee’s inner thoughts.
“What?” Chris looked at him.
“I’m the one who shot Wyler. I killed him.” He glanced at Ezra’s door. “Why are they targeting him and not me?”
Chris heard the guilt in Vin’s voice. “There’s no reason to it,” he admitted. “Why would this person, or person target the new settlers now that they’ve got their land? None of them are gonna just abandon their dreams. Might take awhile to recoup and rebuild but they’re determined to stay. It’s senseless.”
Vin leaned against the wall. “It’s revenge,” he shook his head. “Pure revenge.”
Ezra’s body betrayed his every effort to control it. His hands trembled, his knees shook. Every time he tried to stand he wavered so badly that Jackson pushed him back down onto his bed.
“Stay put,” Nathan commanded, swinging Standish’s legs up onto the bed.
“I don’t want to lie down,” Ezra protested, but didn’t fight the action. He watched, feeling helpless as Nathan propped a rolled blanket under his legs.
“You need to.” The healer worked quickly to settle the gambler.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” Nathan pointed threateningly. “You took a bad hit to your shoulder. You hit your head on the way down and now you’ve had a damn good shock.”
“I’m going insane,” Ezra finished for him.
Nathan pulled up short, surprised and angered, but the fear he could clearly see in Ezra.
“Not likely.” Vin spoke from the doorway, startling both men with his silent entry.
Beside him, Chris held a tray with a kettle of steaming hot water and mug on it. Nathan caught a glimpse of Inez in the hallway before Chris closed the door and handed the tray to him.
Ezra shook his head. “I’m reliving the attack. I’m seeing things that aren’t there. I’m confused. I’m losing my mind.” His voice grew more frantic as he went on, his panic palpable.
“No.” Chris stepped forward. “That’s not what’s happening.”
“Ezra,” Vin continued interrupted. “Someone is doing this to you.”
“What?” Ezra froze.
“Reliving the memories may be real, but there’s someone out there triggering them, trying to make you think you’re going crazy.”
“I don’t understand.” Ezra closed his eyes, suddenly so very weary.
“The sightings of Tom Wyler,” Chris said. “Tell me about them.”
“A figment of my imagination,” Standish murmured.
“Tell me about him, “Chris repeated.
Swallowing, Ezra opened his eyes again. Nathan moved beside him, reading the sling for his arm.
“I’ve seen him twice.”
“Twice?” Vin asked.
Ezra nodded, sitting up again awkwardly so that he could put the sling on.
“In the saloon,” he started.
“And in the street, “Chris finished. “When you thought you were in the middle of the attack again.”
Ezra winced as Nathan adjusted the sling and helped settle back against pillows that now propped him up.
“I thought I was imagining it all.” Ezra’s voice was a shamed whisper.
“I think we’re dealing with Wyler’s partner.” Chris walked over to Ezra’s rocking chair, turned it away from the window so it was facing the bed and sat down. “We think he’s family.”
“Family,” Ezra repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before. “I didn’t imagine him? I’m not seeing things?”
“Don’t think so. Not everything at least.” Vin held up the belt. “This is real.”
Ezra’s eyes locked on the belt and he seemed to sink further into the pillows.
“Someone hung it on your door, knowing what kind of response you’d have,” Nathan added.
Standish’s face colored with shame, he was embarrassed by his fear in front of these men.
“Only way someone would know that…is if they were there when you were attacked.” Chris leaned forward. “You need to tell us about your attack,” he said gently.
“No.” He nearly startled himself with his strong response. He refused to meet Chris’ gaze. “I’ve told you what I remember,” he managed to regain control of his tone.
“Try to remember,” Vin prodded. “ How many men were there?”
Ezra looked away from them as visions of hands pulling at him ran through his mind. He’d never counted before, he just remembered there’d been too many to fight against. “Five,” he whispered finally. “I think there were five of them.
“Do you remember any of them with Wyler? Anyone who looked like him?”
Ezra cringed as more memories started. He wanted to push them away, bury them. He didn’t want to share with the others how weak and useless he’d been. He felt the hands, harsh and brutal pull him off of Chaucer. He managed to signal the horse to go and had felt a sense of relief when the men failed to grab the beast before he got away from them. Then Tom Wyler had sneered and fired the gun.
“Ezra.”
Standish jolted at Chris’ voice, hissing as he jerked his shoulder. “I don’t remember,” he insisted quietly.
“Ezra.”
“I don’t remember anyone but Wyler,” the gambler bit out angrily.
“That’s enough.” Nathan stepped in, handing Ezra the mug of tea, he’d prepared. “ I need to get Ezra to drink this now and then he needs to rest. Out. Now,” he ordered.
Chris looked like he was going to protest, but after a moment he nodded and headed out of the room.
Vin paused at the door. “When you’re ready Ezra.” And then they were gone.
“He’s lying,” Chris poured himself a drink of whiskey and downed it in one take. Around the table, the rest of the seven, save for Ezra, were gathered.
It was late and the saloon was once again empty, the other patrons chased out by Inez.
Ezra had not come out of his room since the conversation earlier.
“You can’t force him to talk about it,” Josiah insisted.
“But if whoever is doing this to him is the same one starting the fires, he needs to talk to us about it.” Buck played with his mustache.
“What do we do about the fires?” JD asked. “What if there’s another one tonight? How do we know who the next target will be? Shouldn’t we be out there patrolling?”
Buck laid a hand on Dunne’s shoulder, stilling the barrage of questions.
“There’s too much territory for us to cover when we don’t know the target,” Vin answered. “The settlers have been warned and a few men are ready to rid into town for help if needed.”
“You really think Ezra is lying about what he remembers?” JD jumped the subject back to Standish. “Why would he do that?” He looked back and forth between each man, waiting for an answer.
Josiah sat back in his chair and scratched at his beard. “He was tortured, JD.”
JD scrunched his face up, shaking his head. “They beat him up bad.”
“And shot him,” Chris reminded.
“Near hung him,” Vin added.
“Yeah but…” The youngest of their group shook his head again.
“JD.” Nathan leaned forward, his hands clenched tightly together. “It was five against one. They ambushed him, dragged him off his horse, shot him and then tried to beat information out of him. They strung him up for God’s sake.”
“But if he remembered enough to tell you all that, why would he lie about remembering the men who did it?”
“He never told me what was done to him,” Nathan admitted, surprising everyone at the table.
“Then who did?” Buck asked.
Nathan stared at the oil lamp in the center of the table, watching its flickering flame for a moment before he finally cleared his throat to answer. “Tom Wyler.”
“What?” Chris looked at Nathan.
“It was when we’d first arrived in town,” Nathan explained. “Before we…before I knew it was Ezra who was hurt. Wyler was taking me to him. He listed all Ezra’s injuries. Thought it was because he’d been helping care for Ez. Then when I discovered it was Ezra, I was too wrapped up with trying to save him. I never asked Ezra and he never confirmed or denied.”
“Even if he didn’t tell you then…why wouldn’t he tell us now if’n it can help him and somebody else?” JD persisted.
“How would you feel?” Vin asked directly. “If it’d been you and all those thing happened. How would you honestly feel?”
JD seemed to contemplate for a minute before he finally answered. “Weak,” he admitted. “Maybe ashamed that it happened, but Ezra shouldn’t feel that way. It could have happened to any of us.”
“Knowing that don’t always change the way a man feels inside when he’s been torn down, Kid.”
“So what do we do?” Dunne looked as lost as the rest of them felt.
“We wait,” Sanchez answered. “We show a little bit of patience and we wait.”
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Ezra stood in the dark shadows at the top of the stairs, looking down into the dimly lit saloon. He stared, unfocused at the oil lamp in the center of the table where the rest of the seven sat and listened as they talked about him.
They didn’t sound like they thought he was losing his mind, no. They sounded…frustrated but supportive. He wasn’t sure what to think about that. Ezra had expected Chris to demand that he tell them everything he remembered about the attack instead of willingly following Josiah’s advice to wait patiently.
He shifted carefully, not wanting to draw their attention yet. His mind raced as he struggled with the decision. Was he the key to figuring out who was behind the fires? Was it possible that if he let himself remember everything and share it with someone else that he’d be able to identify the person who was setting the fires? Would sharing his deepest demons free him from the mental anguish in which the memories seemed to have trapped him?
Ezra sighed lightly and with his good hand he rubbed at his temples. His head ached. His shoulder and leg throbbed. His god damned heart ached. Everything about him right now seemed to focus on pain. He was weary of it.
Josiah’s words from earlier resounded through his thoughts. “It is a fight between two wolves. One is evil. He is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self doubt and ego.”
Ezra knew as the preacher’s gentle voice filled his mind that he needed to let go of the negative emotions boiling within him. He couldn’t do that on his own. He needed his friends and it was time, he realized, as he watched them struggle with how to help him, it was time to reach out, to let go and let them support him.
Gathering his courage, Standish pushed away from the wall and turned toward the top step.
A hand clamped over his mouth from behind as the cold, threatening steel of a gun pressed painfully into his temple. “Going somewhere?”
Ezra started to struggle, but the hand over his mouth tightened, thick calloused fingers bruised his face with their grip. The gun moved into his peripheral vision, no longer pointed at him. He followed the line of sight and realized the weapon was now aimed at Vin.
“One sound. One wrong move and Tanner is first to die.” The whisper was a mere breath in his ear. Almost inaudible over his pounding heart beat. “You understand me?”
Ezra managed to incline his head enough to signal his acquiescence.
“Good, now slow and quiet. We’re going to walk out the back way.”
Somehow Ezra managed to stay upright and keep his bad leg under him as he was ruthlessly hauled toward the back stairs. As soon as they were out of sight of the steps and the interior of the saloon, the gun pressed hard into his ribs as his captor wrapped an arm tight around him. Ezra hissed as his shoulder was jarred, but remained silent even when the hand left his mouth and another arm wrapped tightly around him. Whoever had him, virtually carried him down the dark steps and out the back door.
He was set down hard in the dirt alley behind the building. Ezra’s leg wobbled,but he stayed standing. He started to turn toward his assailant.
“Eh, eh, not yet.” The blow came without any other warning, plunging him into darkness.
Chuck caught the southerner as he went down and carelessly tossed the smaller man over his shoulder. Standish was lighter than he remembered and he smiled at the idea his attack and torment had prevented the man from thriving.
Reaching his horse, tethered strategically near the back of the saloon, Miller tossed Ezra over the back of animal and quickly secured him with rope. A moment later, Chuck was riding out of the sleepy town, grinning over how simple it had been to grab the gambler.
It was perfect, he knew. His plan would work and Tom would be avenged. If he was lucky, he might even get to kill Tanner, but then again, it’d be better if he left the tracker alive. His smile turned feral. Tanner would get to live the rest of his life knowing he hadn’t been able to save his friend. It might not be the same as losing a brother, but from what Chuck had observed of the men and their interaction with Standish… it’d be close enough.
Chuck rode over the familiar trails, skirting trees and rock-strewn barriers as if he’d known the lay of the land since birth. It didn’t matter that it’d only been months. He’d basically lived in the wilds of these woods since he’d come to town and started helping Tom set up the ambush on Standish.
He rode at night, intent on learning the land in anticipation of getting his own acreage. It was going to be his payment for Guy Royal for getting hold of the deeds before the settlers. Instead, Standish had managed to deliver the deeds despite being attacked. Tanner had killed Tom, and Guy Royal had refused to pay Chuck anything for a failed job.
Miller’s anger deepened at the injustice and he spurred his horse to a quicker pace, ignoring the groan from his semi-conscious passenger. He’d have revenge soon now. His biggest fire yet and this time, Standish wouldn’t be walking away from it.
Vin heard the rider coming in before the others and jumped out of his seat, knocking his chair over in the process.
They were still in the saloon. JD, Buck and Josiah dozing-loudly- while Nathan, Chris and him had talked in quiet whispers about what could be done to help Ezra and stop the fires.
Tanner heard the others following before he pushed through the doors into the cool night.
Outside, a man he recognized as Dunkin Oliver, one of the settlers who’d volunteered to help patrol the newly deeded lands and keep watch, pulled his horse to a stop.
“We got another one,” Dunkin told him.
Vin could already see the dark smudges of soot on the stocky man’s clothes and face. “Where?”
“Western edge, by the woods.” Oliver shook his head. “This one’s bad.”
“What do you mean?” Chris questioned as the others joined them. JD ran for the livery.
“He started it on the edge of the Johnston’s property.”
“But he already burned that land,” Buck looked confused.
“And there were no patrols there,” Josiah clarified.
“Nope. He started it in the tall grass opposite the other fire. It’s already reached the brush and the forest. It’s going wild.”
“Damn.” Chris growled. They had no way to fight a wild fire other than to get everything of value out of its path.
“Any new homesteads out there?” Vin questioned.
Oliver nodded. “Only one. Not even cleared yet though. We’re moving the Barnes and Jeffreys just to be careful. Getting their livestock and wagons clear. “
“We’ll come help. “ Chris turned to Nathan. “Go tell Ezra what’s happening. See if he’s up to going, too.”
“He shouldn’t be riding right now,” Jackson protested.
“But he needs to be included,” Josiah reminded.
Chris indicated the upper level of the building. “Don’t want him left alone unless he knows he’s on his own. We should have told him last time, instead we made it seem like we deserted him.”
“Wasn’t like that.” Buck shifted his weight uncomfortably.
“No, but it might have seemed that way to him.” Josiah scratched his head. “Like we think he’s too unstable to include. We need to convince him otherwise.”
Nathan headed back inside, a muttered, “Fine,” thrown over his shoulder.
Chris thanked Dunkin and wasn’t surprised when Oliver rode back out. At least he wasn’t punishing the horse or being reckless.
“We need to catch this guy,” Buck looked at Chris.
“We will.”
“Chris!” Nathan’s voice echoed through the empty saloon, a repeat of earlier in the day.
“Oh no.” Josiah moved first, but Jackson was there at the doors already, frantic and breathless.
“Ezra’s gone.”
Ezra woke with a gasp and moan of pain. He tried to move, but froze in sheer terror. The strap. It was back. Breathing was almost impossible, the belt around Ezra’s neck was so tight. It held him fast.
A new agony swept over him as he realized his arms had been wrenched back. A tree. He was bound to a tree just thick enough to bind his arms back around the trunk of it. Struggling, he gagged and fought for breath. Pain stabbed at the back of his head s the rough tree bark dug deep through his hair and into the skin.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Ezra’s eyes searched until he found his assailant standing to his left, almost out of his field of vision. He couldn’t turn his head without choking.
The man laughed and stepped closer, squatting in front of Ezra. He lifted a lit lantern, chasing the shadows away from his features.
Ezra tried to speak but the pressure on his throat was too tight, he wheezed, trying to pull back from the ghost in front of him but he was held immobile.
The man before him looked so much like Tom Wyler. ‘Think Ezra.’ He commanded himself as the man lowered the lamp again. ‘Push aside the fear and think.’
It couldn’t be Wyler. Wyler was dead. He was dead. Ezra repeated it to himself as he fought his panic. He felt ready to throw up but knew he couldn’t, not like this.
It took a moment, then he blinked and saw it. This man’s hair was slightly darker than Tom’s blond. He was thinner and his eyes were dark dark brown.
“Ah, you finally see it don’t you?” The man swung the lamp as he gestured. “He was my brother,” he added simply. “And now you’ll die because he did.”
The lantern swung again and Ezra followed it with his eyes, searching frantically to figure out where they were. The forest, there were other trees surrounding them. He searched for landmarks. How far from town were they?
“Don’t go worrying,” Wyler’s brother told him. “No one around but us and those who might be close by are a little busy.” He waved again, the swinging lamp making the shadows dance creepily.
“There’s a little fire they’re dealing with.” The man’s arm stilled as he pointed.
Ezra strained to see out of the corner of his eye…smoke.
His eyes flicked back to his captor.
“That’s right.” The man grinned and patted Standish’s bad shoulder with a comforting gesture that sent waves of new viscous pain through Ezra’s body.
He screamed but had no voice. No air. His vision blurred as he struggled to stay conscious and breathe. Breathe. He forced air into his lungs, he could smell the smoke now.
A hand reached for him and suddenly the man was pulling at the belt. It loosened slightly and Ezra sucked in a breath. He was still not able to move or breathe freely, but he could get air into his struggling lungs.
“Don’t want you to choke out before the real show gets here.”
A hand smacked his cheek twice. “Don’t go anywhere,” he chuckled.
Ezra watched, wide eyed and helpless as the light moved away and left him in utter blackness.
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Vin paused and ran a hand over his sweating brow. Damn it was hot. The night breeze was cool, but it couldn’t cut through the growing heat of the fire. It burned free, eating through brush and dry branches and licking up trunks of trees faster than imaginable. It was marvelous, fascinating and terrifying all rolled together in one powerful force. It lit the night sky and sent beautiful sprays of sparks into the air.
“Anything?” Buck asked, coming up beside him.
Tanner shook his head. They’d searched the town for Ezra and found Chaucer safe in his stall. As soon as he saw the horse, Vin knew for certain. Someone had Ezra, the same someone who’d been tormenting him and starting these fires.
Worry ate at him. Where had they taken Standish?
Vin watched as JD and Nathan helped move another wagon away from the reach of the flames. It was the last one. Now there was nothing more to do about the fire except wait and watch.
A small crowd gathered, settlers and townsfolk alike, arriving to try to help and to watch, mesmerized at the terrible sight. To one side, women and children stood. He saw Mary Travis and Mrs. Potter among them, wrapping blankets around children and putting supporting arms around emotionally drained women.
Closer to the fire, a larger group of battered and weary men gathered. They were dirty and sweaty with shoulders slumped in defeat.
Vin caught sight of Chris and Josiah coming toward him and Wilmington.
“Anything?” Josiah repeated Buck’s question.
“Nothing obvious, “Tanner answered. “Too dark to track anything,” he voiced his frustrating. He’d scoured the alley behind the saloon with the aid of a lantern and though he could guess that Ezra’d been taken on horseback- until he had the morning light, he couldn’t be certain.
“Hey guys?” JD came up to them uncharacteristically quiet. Nathan joined them, having finished treating a few minor burns in the group of men. “Do you see that guy at the edge of the tree line?” Dunne gave a small nod over his shoulder. “He look familiar to you?”
Casually, Vin and Chris turned. By the line of trees, yet untouched by the flames, a man stood apart from any group. A lantern hung in one hand as he watched the flames. Occasionally, he’d glance at the people, then back into the forest behind him before returning his stare to the flames. Shadows of light danced over his face.
“Holy shit,” Buck breathed out as the light intensified and lit the man’s features. He took a step forward.
If Vin hadn’t known better he’d have sworn he was looking at Tom Wyler.
Chris grabbed Buck’s arm, keeping him still. “Go that way,” he motioned subtly. “We split up and make sure he has nowhere to run. We need him alive,” he reminded.
The Wyler look-alike was distracted enough by the fire that they were almost on him before he noticed. He glanced from Chris to Vin suddenly, starting like he was going to run for it before he saw Buck and Josiah moving in beside him. He stopped and smiled. He didn’t even try to draw his weapon.
“You’re too late,” he told Tanner as Chris grabbed him and took his pistol, handing it off to Sanchez. “You’ll have to live with it forever.”
“Who the hell are you?” Buck asked, taking the lantern from the man. “Where’s Ezra?”
“Chuck Miller,” the stranger answered easily. “And your friend is in hell by now.”
“No,” Josiah choked out.
Vin stared hard at Miller. “Wyler was your brother?”
“And you killed him, you bastard,” Miller sneered the words.
Scanning the man’s face, Tanner looked for any clue as to what had happened to Ezra.
A tree exploded suddenly, splitting down the center and sending a massive array of sparks into the night. A few of the women screamed. The men gasped.
Vin watched Miller’ expression closely as Chuck glanced toward the commotion. He didn’t see the satisfaction of revenge, instead he saw…anticipation.
“Damn.” Tanner snatched the lantern from Buck and took off into the forest, avoiding the flames and ducking the smoke as best he could.
“Vin!” He heard Chris’ shout and Miller screaming.
“You’re too late, Tanner. He’s already burning!” But he couldn’t stop, not if there was even a chance that Ezra was still alive.
Raising the lantern, he slowed. The smoke was thick and the weak light barely cut through it. It managed to cast just enough light that Vin spotted the obvious trail Miller had left when he plodded out of the forest.
Ezra struggled with his binding, silent screams tearing from his restricted throat as pain knifed though his shoulder and upper body. He choked and gasped, barking harsh coughs as the smoke around him continued to thicken. It hovered above and around him, stinging his eyes and stealing what little air he could suck into his straining lungs.
He could see the fire now, moving closer as it consumed its abundance of fuel. He listened as it crackled and popped and hissed its way towards him, dancing wildly from tree to tree. He could feel its heat, like the mutated warmth of a comforting campfire. It was coming for him.
There’d been no sign of his captor and now, as he watched the flames race closer, Ezra weighed his options.
He could wait. He could sit in the dirt, continuing to struggle in a hopeless attempt to free himself until the flames finally reached him. If he was lucky, the smoke would take him first, but he’d never been much for relying on luck.
His other option…Ezra swallowed painfully feeling the full width of the band of leather that held him fast against the tree. All he had to do was pull forward a little bit; it wouldn’t take much to cut off what little air he was getting now.
The idea of letting the belt win sent waves of anger and shame through him and yet…it was that or burn.
A tree popped nearby and Ezra tired to turn his head, but the belt held him in place. He coughed roughly, squeezing his eyes closed at the new level of pain that assaulted his body.
He couldn’t take any more. Tears filled his eyes, but instead of bringing relief to his dry eyes, the stinging intensified. He wasn’t sure he could do this. Slowly he forced himself forward, but the moment the belt cut off his air completely he stopped, slumping back.
No. The word resounded through his mind like an echo in a canyon. He wanted to live. He didn’t want to give up or give in to his pain and fear. He didn’t want to let the others down with his own weakness.
‘They’ll never know’ a small voice whispered in the night, but he pushed it away, he would know.
The heat around him intensified as if mocking his vain hope. He wheezed again, searching for air as sweat rolled down his face and back. It was too hot.
“Ezra!”
Time froze and he opened his eyes at the sound of his name barked out over the crackling flames.
“Ezra!”
Vin.
He opened his mouth to scream for the tracker, but he was still voiceless. Wildly, he began to thrash, kicking his legs in the dirt, ignoring the thousand blades that cut through his upper body with each movement.
Suddenly Tanner was there dropping to his knees in front of Ezra and gasping for air in the layers of smoke. His blue eyes lifted and met Ezra’s.
“Mother of God,” Tanner whispered the words even as he flew into motion. He went for the belt first.
Ezra gagged and choked as it pulled tighter, struggling even as he knew Vin was helping. It only lasted a moment and then instantly his head fell forward and he dragged huge gulps of air in only to cough from the suffocating thickness of the dark smoke. He felt Tanner working on the rope binding his wrists when he heard someone crashing toward them.
Buck and Chris seemed to materialize out of the clouds of billowing smoke. Both wore bandanas over their nose and mouth. Buck winked at Ezra as he moved to help Vin.
Chris sank down in front of Ezra moving in close and putting one hand behind Standish’s neck and raising a canteen to his lips before Vin even had him completely free.
Ezra drank greedily, ignoring the way the water seemed to scour his abused throat. He tried to say thank you but at that moment Vin freed his arms and instead he swayed weakly, a small squeal escaping as he tried to scream.
“Jesus.” Chris caught him and held him up. “Stay with us, Ezra.”
“We need to get out of here.” Buck grimaced at the growing flames. Turning he realized the path they’d come in on was now blazing. “We’re trapped.”
“No, this way.” Vin motioned. “Stay low.”
Buck moved to the other side of Ezra and together he and Chris half crawled, half dragged the southerner after Tanner.
“I know this hurts, Ezra, but hang on to us,” Chris sounded through the haze of pain. Ezra lost any account of how far they crawled through the burning forest until suddenly he was sinking into icy cold water. He stiffened and gasped.
“We got you, Ezra. We’re almost clear.” Chris voice was ragged and abused by the smoke.
Just when Ezra was sure he couldn’t take the pain anymore, everything stopped. He felt Buck and Chris lower him the rest of the way to the ground, turning him carefully onto his back.
“Damn it,” Chris growled. “His shoulder’s been out this whole time.”
“If we’d stopped back there we’d have been roasted,” Buck reminded.
“Can you fix it?” He heard Vin ask.
“If you hold him.”
Hand and grips shifted, then there was a softly whispered “Sorry, Ezra” before his shoulder exploded and the world vanished.
Ezra came awake slowly, blinking dry crusty eyes open to find himself in Nathan’s clinic.
“Afternoon,” Josiah rumbled beside him and slowly, carefully, Ezra turned his head in Sanchez’s direction.
“How,” he tried to ask, but his throat erupted and he immediately started choking. Pain vibrated through his body as Josiah eased him up and held him until the worst had passed. A cup was pressed to his lips and he drank slowly, relieved as the water cooled his burning throat.
“Try not to talk much. Whisper if you have to say something.” Gently the big man eased him back down again.
His shoulder ached, but the arm was bound tightly to his bare chest, the knife like pain gone.
“Others?” he questioned in a gasp.
“They’re all safe,” Josiah answered. “Breathed in a tad too much smoke, but they’re fine.”
Relief filled Ezra. “What?” he whispered cautiously.
Josiah merely nodded. “Tom Wyler had a brother two years his junior, Chuck Miller.”
Sanchez reached forward and readjusted the blanket over Ezra that’d slid down during his coughing fit. “Miller admitted he was the one Wyler was sending wires to back when you were attacked. Seems Guy Royal had promised the brothers land of their own if they got to those land deeds before the settlers did. When that didn’t work- Royal backed out and wouldn’t give Miller any property. His revenge was to try and burn out the settlers…and go after you. Tried to make you think you were losing your mind first.”
Ezra closed his eyes, weariness pushing him back into darkness. “It worked,” he whispered faintly.
“No, it almost worked, big difference there, son.” Josiah’s voice assured as it faded.
When Ezra awoke again, he heard voices. Josiah was still there but Chris, Vin and Nathan were, too.
“Who found him?” Josiah asked.
“Buck,” Vin answered, his soft voice sounding rough and harsh, after effects of the smoke he’d inhaled while rescuing him. Ezra felt a flash of guilt with the thought.
“What happened?” Nathan’s voice drew him back to the on-going conversation.
“He hung himself, “Chris sounded tired. “with his own belt.”
Silence descended on the four and Ezra let himself sink back into sleep again.
The third time Ezra woke, Josiah was sitting beside him again.
“You ever take a break?” he tested his voice carefully, taking each word slowly. His accent was thick and heavy.
A slow grin spread across Josiah’s face. “Well, you see, brother, you’ve been sleeping for nearly two days. How do you now I’ve not been taking breaks.”
Ezra stared at Josiah. “Two days?” he gasped and started to push himself up.
Awkwardly balanced, Josiah easily pushed him back down. “Stay put,” the preacher ordered, keeping a warm hand on Ezra’s chest. Once sure that Ezra was obeying, he moved his hand.
“First off, you’re okay. Roughed up quite a bit and you’re gonna have to keep that shoulder still for longer than you’ll like, but everything will heal.” Josiah assured.
“The fire?”
“Burned itself out once it reached the stream. “
“Miller is dead,” Ezra declared suddenly.
Josiah paused. “You heard that?”
Weakly, Standish admitted he had.
“Yes, he is,” Josiah leaned back in his chair.
“He was there during the first attack.” Though he had to whisper, Ezra found he was able to breathe and talk without much difficulty. “I remembered after he left me in the woods,” he admitted.
He saw compassion fill Josiah’s eyes and closed his. The door to the clinic opened and he listened to the familiar tread of Vin’s stride cross the room.
“You remember?” Josiah questioned.
He opened his eyes and locked gazes with Vin.
“I remember every moment of the attack,” he confessed. “Just not all the faces.”
They sat then and listened without interrupting as Ezra talked, spilling details he’d buried and hidden. He let it all go. Every comment, every blow, every kick, every painful, humiliating moment of his attackers dragging him through the dirt like a beaten animal.
With details went the bitterness, the shame and the guilt until all that was left was Ezra, bruised, broken, hollowed out and scarred but unburdened and at peace.
When he was finished and silent, he watched as Vin slowly uncurled white knuckled fists and stood. Tanner took a step closer, careful not to crowd, but not shying away. There was no judgment in his eyes, no pity, only cold deadly anger that Ezra knew instinctively was not aimed at him.
“When you do remember the others,” Tanner whispered thickly. “You let me know.” Then he nodded once and slipped out of the room.
“I’ve made him angry.” Ezra looked at Sanchez. “Not at me,” he acknowledged.
Sanchez met his gaze and it was then that Ezra realized Josiah was barely hanging onto his temper.
“I didn’t let go of my anger for you to take it on,” Ezra said gently.
The air seemed to whoosh out of Josiah in one long breath. “It ain’t a bad thing to want justice for a friend, “ he said.
“Unless it turns you into someone like Miller,” Ezra point out. “Consumed by his negative emotions until that’s all he has left.”
Josiah looked again at Ezra, a smile forming slowly as his features relaxed. “He made the wrong choice,” Sanchez acknowledged. “He fed the wrong wolf.”
[ part one][ part two]
Fandom: Magnificent Seven
Author: sablecain
Artist: bookaddict43
Disclaimer: The mag7 belong to Mirish, MGM, Trilogy and all those big names. No copyright infringement intended
Character/Pairing: Ezra Standish
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language
Warnings: violence and language
Summary: sequel to ‘The Samaritan’s Choice’-someone’s out for revenge and Ezra is their target
Authors Notes: Very deep thanks go to NotTasha for her willingness to beta for me. She rocks.
Ezra knew he was being unreasonable. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help them. Not when he was so messed up inside. He slowly slid onto one of the benches along the walkway, leaning back against the building and set the bottle of whiskey on the bench next to him. He closed his eyes. His head throbbed and the ache in his leg pulsed along with it. The anger and unfeeling shield that had come with the initial intake of alcohol was fading. It was leaving him lost again in a maelstrom of emotion and fear.
Who was starting the fires? Was it the same mysterious person waiting out there to get to him? Or was it all his imagination? Was his fear paralyzing him?
He heard the heavy footsteps and tensed as someone sat down beside him.
“Nice morning,” Josiah commented.
Ezra sighed and opened his eyes. “I suppose.”
Josiah grinned. “You don’t sound as angry as you were trying so hard to be a few moments ago,” he pointed out, suddenly serious.
Ezra stiffened and started rise but Josiah simply reached out and grabbed his forearm. “Hear me out.”
“Do I have a choice?” Ezra demanded harshly, glaring down at the hand on his arm.
“Of course.” Josiah’s hand loosened but he didn’t let go. “Please.”
Ezra deflated again. “Fine,” he motioned with his free hand. “What wisdom do you have to share with me today?” he asked sarcastically.
Ignoring the snide tone, Josiah leaned back beside the Southerner, making himself comfortable.
“There was a time,” he started, looking out at the street, his voice was low but strong. “My father took us onto a Cherokee reservation. I was pretty young then and my sister was just a toddler. The chief’s wife took care of her and I tended to follow that woman around everywhere. All the children did. She’d set us down and tell us stories and share her wisdom.”
The sound of Josiah’s voice assured Ezra that his friend was smiling at the memory. Though he didn’t want to hear whatever story Josiah was intent on sharing, the tone of the preacher’s voice lulled him, relaxing him despite his agitation. No matter how much he tried to focus on his anger…he trusted Josiah.
“My favorite one, it was the parable of ‘Two Wolves’. See an old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life…
‘A fight is going on inside me,’ he said to the boy. ‘It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self doubt and ego.’” Josiah paused before continuing, letting his words settle between them.
“’ The other is good- he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.
This same fight is going on inside you and inside of every other person, too,’ the grandfather told the boy.
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, ‘which wolf will win?’
The old Chief simply replied, ‘The one you feed.’”
Josiah looked at Ezra then. “I know you’re torn up inside. The memories of what happened to you feel like they’re tearing you apart and taking over but Ezra…” the grip on Ezra’s arm tightened. “You are not alone in this. No matter how much it feels that way. Please. Please remember that. Hang on to that. Don’t feed the anger and the fear…fight it, Brother. Fight it.”
Ezra stared after Sanchez, watching Josiah re-enter the saloon, the man’s words echoing through his mind. Was it really that easy? Could he simply just- fight- the feelings and terror? How? It was so much easier to embrace the anger. To hold onto it, cling to it, and feel strengthened by it…but was it real? Did it help him?
Noise from inside the saloon drew his attention. Someone was yelling. Pushing back to his feet, Ezra moved as quickly as he was able to see what was going on inside.
“What are you going to do about it?”
A man he didn’t recognize was standing toe to toe with Chris, his face flushed with rage. “Someone’s burning us out! They’re threatening our families. You,” he said, jabbing at Larabee’s chest , “and your men are supposed to be protecting us!” He moved to jab Chris again, but Chris moved faster, grabbing the man’s wrist and turning it just enough. The man howled and the place erupted.
“Don’t you hurt him!”
A bottle flew at Chris, clipping him before he had the time to duck out of the way. Buck and Vin sprang into action and from his viewpoint, Ezra watched.
JD and Josiah stood, ready to intervene. Inez ducked behind the bar.
Ezra tried to stay tight to the wall as the brawl exploded full force. Josiah caught one settler by the collar and flung him away from Nathan.
A bottle exploded against the wall beside Ezra, glass flying. He ducked, but shards caught him, cutting a slice into his cheek. A chair crashed somewhere nearby, he heard the wood splintering followed by Nathan’s frantic, “Ezra, look out!”
Ezra turned, but not in time. The weapon hit him like club across his bad shoulder. His vision blurred as pain erupted, so sharp it drove him back and into the wall. He heard someone scream, “NO!” just before his shoulder was hit a second time. His world went black and silent.
Chuck laughed as he rolled out of the saloon, ducking under the batwing doors and hurrying down the street with a handful of other men. The crude club he’d made from the smashed chair still in his hand. He tossed it aside in case any of the other peacekeepers decided to come after him, but he was pretty sure they were distracted enough trying to calm the fight and take care of the injured.
It hadn’t taken long to get old Joe Cirus stirred up. Between dropping a few muttered comments about how the peacekeepers weren’t doing a very good job of watching over the new homesteads and the tension already filling the place, Joe was easy to set off.
Miller hadn’t expected Cirus to go right for Larabee. The man certainly had some guts, but the result, for Chuck, was perfect. It’d let him get to Standish.
Oh how much he’d wanted to actually get up in the Southerner’s face and let himself be recognized, but he knew…the time wasn’t right for that. Not yet. Striking out physically would have to be enough for now.
He’d seen how the other six seemed to be circling their wagons protectively around Standish. He hadn’t expected that. As much as he tried to make the gambler lose his mind…the other peacekeepers seemed to be standing by their friend regardless. It was time to up the ante a bit. He’d laid the groundwork earlier, once he’d seen Standish outside the saloon and now everything should work just right. He just needed to wait.
How much longer would the other men stand by Standish? How far gone did his mind have to be before they would desert him, too?
He didn’t imagine Standish holding up too well at all now. Not between his injury and the surprise that awaited him. And, Chuck slowed to a walk, ducking down an alley and skirting behind the livery to where he’d left his horse, if none of that worked to break Standish, that’d be alright, too. It just meant it would be time to move on to the next phase of his plan. The final phase.
Hands. Hands were on him. Pain.
Ezra came awake struggling, panicked by the memory of too many hands bring only pain.
“Easy, Ezra, it’s okay.” He heard Jackson’s voice but it didn’t register at first.
“Ezra, stop moving, brother.” Josiah.
Slowly awareness returned. He stilled, but flinched as strong fingers worked his shoulder.
“It’s not out,” Jackson said. “And not broken either, I don’t think.” Relief was audible in the healer’s voice. “Ezra, can you move it?”
Forcing himself to open his eyes and try, Ezra tentatively tried to move his arm. The pain was excruciating, but he was able to move. He groaned in spite of himself.
“Careful,” Nathan warned again. “It’s bruised good.”
“That’s an understatement,” Buck ‘s comment drew Ezra’s attention and that’s when he realized he was surrounded by everyone. The saloon was empty except for them. Inez watched, worriedly from the bar.
He was shirtless.
“What?”
“How in the world can you barely be in the same room as the fight and end up the most significantly injured is beyond me,” Nathan fussed as he gently adjusted the angle of Ezra’s arm. “Where’s the sling I made for you?”
“I,” Ezra looked around again. “Where’s my coat…my shirt?”
Vin grinned. “Here.” He held up the garments in question.
“That guy went right at him,” JD told them. Ezra realized then that JD was standing beside Larabee, who was seated in a chair with a rag held to his own head. His eyes met Chris’.
“I’m fine,” Chris assured.
Nathan nodded, responding to both Chris and JD. “Chris just got clipped. Has a goose egg, but JD’s right, seemed like that guy targeted your bad shoulder.”
Ezra flinched again as Jackson dabbed at the cut on his cheek.
“I don’t understand,” he managed.
“I don’t either,” Chris growled, obviously frustrated.
“Your sling?” Nathan prodded again.
Ezra looked from Chris to Nathan. “My room.”
“I’ll go.” Buck started toward the stairs, but Standish spoke quickly, stopping him.
“I’d like to…”he waved his good arm indicating he’d like to get up off the filthy floor and go to his room himself. “It’ll be easier for me to find,” he explained at Nathan’s questioning look.
“Fine, you need the rest anyways. Buck,” Nathan called Wilmington back. “Help us get him on his feet.”
“I’m perfectly capable…” Ezra protested but Josiah cut him off.
“Let us help.”
“I don’t want you jarring your shoulder more before I can get it better stabilized, “Jackson explained. “Just in case.”
Ezra saw the concern in their eyes and acquiesced despite the weakness he felt. With his good hand, he reached out. Josiah slid into place beside him. Nathan held his injured arm still while Buck stood behind him.
Once he was on his feet, he swayed slightly.
“You good?” Vin asked.
“I believe so.”
Nathan insisted on helping him up the stairs, hovering beside him in case he lost his balance, but thankfully Ezra remained upright for the climb.
“What happened?” he asked the healer as they reached the top of the steps.
“You don’t remember?” Jackson’s voice filled with renewed concern.
“I know I got hit but…by who?”
Nathan shook his head. “No idea. I didn’t see his face just that he seemed to target you. It was like he knew you’d been hurt.” Nathan squeezed Ezra’s arm slightly. “We were too busy settling the fight and checking on you and Chris to chase after him. When you went down, I thought for sure…”
They were almost to Ezra’s door when Standish suddenly stopped walking.
“What is it?” Nathan looked at his frozen friend. Terror was etched on Ezra’s face, he began to tremble uncontrollably.
“Ezra?”
Standish didn’t respond, he simply stared at the door to his room.
Nathan followed the frightened gaze and gasped in shock. There, hanging on the doorknob to Ezra’s room hung a worn leather belt. Nathan immediately recognized it as looking exactly, if not being the same one that had been used to torture Ezra in Bainbridge. It was the weapon used to strangle his friend so badly it’d left a scar on the back of Ezra’s neck where the buckle had cut into the skin.
“Chris!” Nathan shouted for Larabee and the others even as he felt Ezra’s leg give out beside him. He caught his friend and held on.
“It’s okay, Ezra. It’s going to be okay,” he repeated over and over even as he promised himself that this was not going to happen to Standish again. Whoever was targeting his friend was going to pay, even if Nathan had to find them and kill them himself.
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Chris paced the hallway outside of Ezra’s room, gripping the leather belt in his hand. His anger boiling now, as the ramifications of the belt’s appearance were realized.
This was about more than Ezra reliving the attack. Someone was orchestrating this, torturing Standish mentally, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of his sanity.
Larabee wanted to destroy something, someone.
“Cowboy.” Vin’s voice was low and soothing, the tone he might use if he was trying to approach a wild horse.
“What?” Chris snapped at the tracker, in no mood to be soothed.
“He’s going to be alright.”
“We don’t know that.” Chris waved the belt in Vin’s direction. “This…” his anger peaked as he looked at the detested piece of leather. He flung it forcefully away from him, watching as it slammed against the wall and landed on the floor.
“I know,” Tanner went to the belt and scooped it up again, winding it into a tight coil. His fingers lingered on the cold metal of the buckle.
“What do you want with it?” Chris demanded, not understanding why Vin didn’t just leave it.
“Wanna make sure it’s not used against him again,” Tanner answered practically.
Chris sighed. He hadn’t thought of that. Of course he didn’t point out that someone could use any belt as a symbol of what happened. He hoped to God that it wouldn’t happen again. At least he knew that the six other peacekeepers were going to do everything possible to prevent anyone from getting to Ezra again.
At Nathan’s initial yell everyone had run upstairs, but once they were certain there was no immediate danger, Chris had sent Buck and JD back downstairs to keep an eye on things. Folks had started to filter back into the saloon now that the brawl had ended and Larabee didn’t need anyone wandering upstairs and nosing into Ezra’s business.
Josiah was outside, subtly watching over what was happening around town and looking out for any obvious signs of foul play. Nathan had ushered Ezra into the privacy of his room.
Standish had tried to insist that he was fine, but even once the initial fright had passed, the southerner continued to shake uncontrollably. Nathan had feared that between the assault downstairs and finding the belt, Ezra might go into shock.
Chris ran his fingers through his hair. “Who’s doing this?”
“Someone one who looks a hell of a lot like Tom Wyler,” Vin answered looking at Chris knowingly.
“Family.”
It clicked together confirming Chris’ fears that the ‘sightings’ Ezra had been having were more than just memories of his trauma.
They were silent a moment, obviously mulling over the realization.
“Think it’s linked to the fires?” Vin questioned.
It made sense, Chris thought. Tom Wyler had tried to get the land deeds from Ezra. He was the man behind the attack on Standish. They knew that he’d sent telegrams to someone in Four Corners, but they’d never been able to find that someone. If Wyler’s partner had been family, then when Vin killed Tom…Wyler’s family might be looking for revenge.
“Why not me?” Vin asked suddenly as if he’d followed Larabee’s inner thoughts.
“What?” Chris looked at him.
“I’m the one who shot Wyler. I killed him.” He glanced at Ezra’s door. “Why are they targeting him and not me?”
Chris heard the guilt in Vin’s voice. “There’s no reason to it,” he admitted. “Why would this person, or person target the new settlers now that they’ve got their land? None of them are gonna just abandon their dreams. Might take awhile to recoup and rebuild but they’re determined to stay. It’s senseless.”
Vin leaned against the wall. “It’s revenge,” he shook his head. “Pure revenge.”
Ezra’s body betrayed his every effort to control it. His hands trembled, his knees shook. Every time he tried to stand he wavered so badly that Jackson pushed him back down onto his bed.
“Stay put,” Nathan commanded, swinging Standish’s legs up onto the bed.
“I don’t want to lie down,” Ezra protested, but didn’t fight the action. He watched, feeling helpless as Nathan propped a rolled blanket under his legs.
“You need to.” The healer worked quickly to settle the gambler.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” Nathan pointed threateningly. “You took a bad hit to your shoulder. You hit your head on the way down and now you’ve had a damn good shock.”
“I’m going insane,” Ezra finished for him.
Nathan pulled up short, surprised and angered, but the fear he could clearly see in Ezra.
“Not likely.” Vin spoke from the doorway, startling both men with his silent entry.
Beside him, Chris held a tray with a kettle of steaming hot water and mug on it. Nathan caught a glimpse of Inez in the hallway before Chris closed the door and handed the tray to him.
Ezra shook his head. “I’m reliving the attack. I’m seeing things that aren’t there. I’m confused. I’m losing my mind.” His voice grew more frantic as he went on, his panic palpable.
“No.” Chris stepped forward. “That’s not what’s happening.”
“Ezra,” Vin continued interrupted. “Someone is doing this to you.”
“What?” Ezra froze.
“Reliving the memories may be real, but there’s someone out there triggering them, trying to make you think you’re going crazy.”
“I don’t understand.” Ezra closed his eyes, suddenly so very weary.
“The sightings of Tom Wyler,” Chris said. “Tell me about them.”
“A figment of my imagination,” Standish murmured.
“Tell me about him, “Chris repeated.
Swallowing, Ezra opened his eyes again. Nathan moved beside him, reading the sling for his arm.
“I’ve seen him twice.”
“Twice?” Vin asked.
Ezra nodded, sitting up again awkwardly so that he could put the sling on.
“In the saloon,” he started.
“And in the street, “Chris finished. “When you thought you were in the middle of the attack again.”
Ezra winced as Nathan adjusted the sling and helped settle back against pillows that now propped him up.
“I thought I was imagining it all.” Ezra’s voice was a shamed whisper.
“I think we’re dealing with Wyler’s partner.” Chris walked over to Ezra’s rocking chair, turned it away from the window so it was facing the bed and sat down. “We think he’s family.”
“Family,” Ezra repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before. “I didn’t imagine him? I’m not seeing things?”
“Don’t think so. Not everything at least.” Vin held up the belt. “This is real.”
Ezra’s eyes locked on the belt and he seemed to sink further into the pillows.
“Someone hung it on your door, knowing what kind of response you’d have,” Nathan added.
Standish’s face colored with shame, he was embarrassed by his fear in front of these men.
“Only way someone would know that…is if they were there when you were attacked.” Chris leaned forward. “You need to tell us about your attack,” he said gently.
“No.” He nearly startled himself with his strong response. He refused to meet Chris’ gaze. “I’ve told you what I remember,” he managed to regain control of his tone.
“Try to remember,” Vin prodded. “ How many men were there?”
Ezra looked away from them as visions of hands pulling at him ran through his mind. He’d never counted before, he just remembered there’d been too many to fight against. “Five,” he whispered finally. “I think there were five of them.
“Do you remember any of them with Wyler? Anyone who looked like him?”
Ezra cringed as more memories started. He wanted to push them away, bury them. He didn’t want to share with the others how weak and useless he’d been. He felt the hands, harsh and brutal pull him off of Chaucer. He managed to signal the horse to go and had felt a sense of relief when the men failed to grab the beast before he got away from them. Then Tom Wyler had sneered and fired the gun.
“Ezra.”
Standish jolted at Chris’ voice, hissing as he jerked his shoulder. “I don’t remember,” he insisted quietly.
“Ezra.”
“I don’t remember anyone but Wyler,” the gambler bit out angrily.
“That’s enough.” Nathan stepped in, handing Ezra the mug of tea, he’d prepared. “ I need to get Ezra to drink this now and then he needs to rest. Out. Now,” he ordered.
Chris looked like he was going to protest, but after a moment he nodded and headed out of the room.
Vin paused at the door. “When you’re ready Ezra.” And then they were gone.
“He’s lying,” Chris poured himself a drink of whiskey and downed it in one take. Around the table, the rest of the seven, save for Ezra, were gathered.
It was late and the saloon was once again empty, the other patrons chased out by Inez.
Ezra had not come out of his room since the conversation earlier.
“You can’t force him to talk about it,” Josiah insisted.
“But if whoever is doing this to him is the same one starting the fires, he needs to talk to us about it.” Buck played with his mustache.
“What do we do about the fires?” JD asked. “What if there’s another one tonight? How do we know who the next target will be? Shouldn’t we be out there patrolling?”
Buck laid a hand on Dunne’s shoulder, stilling the barrage of questions.
“There’s too much territory for us to cover when we don’t know the target,” Vin answered. “The settlers have been warned and a few men are ready to rid into town for help if needed.”
“You really think Ezra is lying about what he remembers?” JD jumped the subject back to Standish. “Why would he do that?” He looked back and forth between each man, waiting for an answer.
Josiah sat back in his chair and scratched at his beard. “He was tortured, JD.”
JD scrunched his face up, shaking his head. “They beat him up bad.”
“And shot him,” Chris reminded.
“Near hung him,” Vin added.
“Yeah but…” The youngest of their group shook his head again.
“JD.” Nathan leaned forward, his hands clenched tightly together. “It was five against one. They ambushed him, dragged him off his horse, shot him and then tried to beat information out of him. They strung him up for God’s sake.”
“But if he remembered enough to tell you all that, why would he lie about remembering the men who did it?”
“He never told me what was done to him,” Nathan admitted, surprising everyone at the table.
“Then who did?” Buck asked.
Nathan stared at the oil lamp in the center of the table, watching its flickering flame for a moment before he finally cleared his throat to answer. “Tom Wyler.”
“What?” Chris looked at Nathan.
“It was when we’d first arrived in town,” Nathan explained. “Before we…before I knew it was Ezra who was hurt. Wyler was taking me to him. He listed all Ezra’s injuries. Thought it was because he’d been helping care for Ez. Then when I discovered it was Ezra, I was too wrapped up with trying to save him. I never asked Ezra and he never confirmed or denied.”
“Even if he didn’t tell you then…why wouldn’t he tell us now if’n it can help him and somebody else?” JD persisted.
“How would you feel?” Vin asked directly. “If it’d been you and all those thing happened. How would you honestly feel?”
JD seemed to contemplate for a minute before he finally answered. “Weak,” he admitted. “Maybe ashamed that it happened, but Ezra shouldn’t feel that way. It could have happened to any of us.”
“Knowing that don’t always change the way a man feels inside when he’s been torn down, Kid.”
“So what do we do?” Dunne looked as lost as the rest of them felt.
“We wait,” Sanchez answered. “We show a little bit of patience and we wait.”
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Ezra stood in the dark shadows at the top of the stairs, looking down into the dimly lit saloon. He stared, unfocused at the oil lamp in the center of the table where the rest of the seven sat and listened as they talked about him.
They didn’t sound like they thought he was losing his mind, no. They sounded…frustrated but supportive. He wasn’t sure what to think about that. Ezra had expected Chris to demand that he tell them everything he remembered about the attack instead of willingly following Josiah’s advice to wait patiently.
He shifted carefully, not wanting to draw their attention yet. His mind raced as he struggled with the decision. Was he the key to figuring out who was behind the fires? Was it possible that if he let himself remember everything and share it with someone else that he’d be able to identify the person who was setting the fires? Would sharing his deepest demons free him from the mental anguish in which the memories seemed to have trapped him?
Ezra sighed lightly and with his good hand he rubbed at his temples. His head ached. His shoulder and leg throbbed. His god damned heart ached. Everything about him right now seemed to focus on pain. He was weary of it.
Josiah’s words from earlier resounded through his thoughts. “It is a fight between two wolves. One is evil. He is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, self doubt and ego.”
Ezra knew as the preacher’s gentle voice filled his mind that he needed to let go of the negative emotions boiling within him. He couldn’t do that on his own. He needed his friends and it was time, he realized, as he watched them struggle with how to help him, it was time to reach out, to let go and let them support him.
Gathering his courage, Standish pushed away from the wall and turned toward the top step.
A hand clamped over his mouth from behind as the cold, threatening steel of a gun pressed painfully into his temple. “Going somewhere?”
Ezra started to struggle, but the hand over his mouth tightened, thick calloused fingers bruised his face with their grip. The gun moved into his peripheral vision, no longer pointed at him. He followed the line of sight and realized the weapon was now aimed at Vin.
“One sound. One wrong move and Tanner is first to die.” The whisper was a mere breath in his ear. Almost inaudible over his pounding heart beat. “You understand me?”
Ezra managed to incline his head enough to signal his acquiescence.
“Good, now slow and quiet. We’re going to walk out the back way.”
Somehow Ezra managed to stay upright and keep his bad leg under him as he was ruthlessly hauled toward the back stairs. As soon as they were out of sight of the steps and the interior of the saloon, the gun pressed hard into his ribs as his captor wrapped an arm tight around him. Ezra hissed as his shoulder was jarred, but remained silent even when the hand left his mouth and another arm wrapped tightly around him. Whoever had him, virtually carried him down the dark steps and out the back door.
He was set down hard in the dirt alley behind the building. Ezra’s leg wobbled,but he stayed standing. He started to turn toward his assailant.
“Eh, eh, not yet.” The blow came without any other warning, plunging him into darkness.
Chuck caught the southerner as he went down and carelessly tossed the smaller man over his shoulder. Standish was lighter than he remembered and he smiled at the idea his attack and torment had prevented the man from thriving.
Reaching his horse, tethered strategically near the back of the saloon, Miller tossed Ezra over the back of animal and quickly secured him with rope. A moment later, Chuck was riding out of the sleepy town, grinning over how simple it had been to grab the gambler.
It was perfect, he knew. His plan would work and Tom would be avenged. If he was lucky, he might even get to kill Tanner, but then again, it’d be better if he left the tracker alive. His smile turned feral. Tanner would get to live the rest of his life knowing he hadn’t been able to save his friend. It might not be the same as losing a brother, but from what Chuck had observed of the men and their interaction with Standish… it’d be close enough.
Chuck rode over the familiar trails, skirting trees and rock-strewn barriers as if he’d known the lay of the land since birth. It didn’t matter that it’d only been months. He’d basically lived in the wilds of these woods since he’d come to town and started helping Tom set up the ambush on Standish.
He rode at night, intent on learning the land in anticipation of getting his own acreage. It was going to be his payment for Guy Royal for getting hold of the deeds before the settlers. Instead, Standish had managed to deliver the deeds despite being attacked. Tanner had killed Tom, and Guy Royal had refused to pay Chuck anything for a failed job.
Miller’s anger deepened at the injustice and he spurred his horse to a quicker pace, ignoring the groan from his semi-conscious passenger. He’d have revenge soon now. His biggest fire yet and this time, Standish wouldn’t be walking away from it.
Vin heard the rider coming in before the others and jumped out of his seat, knocking his chair over in the process.
They were still in the saloon. JD, Buck and Josiah dozing-loudly- while Nathan, Chris and him had talked in quiet whispers about what could be done to help Ezra and stop the fires.
Tanner heard the others following before he pushed through the doors into the cool night.
Outside, a man he recognized as Dunkin Oliver, one of the settlers who’d volunteered to help patrol the newly deeded lands and keep watch, pulled his horse to a stop.
“We got another one,” Dunkin told him.
Vin could already see the dark smudges of soot on the stocky man’s clothes and face. “Where?”
“Western edge, by the woods.” Oliver shook his head. “This one’s bad.”
“What do you mean?” Chris questioned as the others joined them. JD ran for the livery.
“He started it on the edge of the Johnston’s property.”
“But he already burned that land,” Buck looked confused.
“And there were no patrols there,” Josiah clarified.
“Nope. He started it in the tall grass opposite the other fire. It’s already reached the brush and the forest. It’s going wild.”
“Damn.” Chris growled. They had no way to fight a wild fire other than to get everything of value out of its path.
“Any new homesteads out there?” Vin questioned.
Oliver nodded. “Only one. Not even cleared yet though. We’re moving the Barnes and Jeffreys just to be careful. Getting their livestock and wagons clear. “
“We’ll come help. “ Chris turned to Nathan. “Go tell Ezra what’s happening. See if he’s up to going, too.”
“He shouldn’t be riding right now,” Jackson protested.
“But he needs to be included,” Josiah reminded.
Chris indicated the upper level of the building. “Don’t want him left alone unless he knows he’s on his own. We should have told him last time, instead we made it seem like we deserted him.”
“Wasn’t like that.” Buck shifted his weight uncomfortably.
“No, but it might have seemed that way to him.” Josiah scratched his head. “Like we think he’s too unstable to include. We need to convince him otherwise.”
Nathan headed back inside, a muttered, “Fine,” thrown over his shoulder.
Chris thanked Dunkin and wasn’t surprised when Oliver rode back out. At least he wasn’t punishing the horse or being reckless.
“We need to catch this guy,” Buck looked at Chris.
“We will.”
“Chris!” Nathan’s voice echoed through the empty saloon, a repeat of earlier in the day.
“Oh no.” Josiah moved first, but Jackson was there at the doors already, frantic and breathless.
“Ezra’s gone.”
Ezra woke with a gasp and moan of pain. He tried to move, but froze in sheer terror. The strap. It was back. Breathing was almost impossible, the belt around Ezra’s neck was so tight. It held him fast.
A new agony swept over him as he realized his arms had been wrenched back. A tree. He was bound to a tree just thick enough to bind his arms back around the trunk of it. Struggling, he gagged and fought for breath. Pain stabbed at the back of his head s the rough tree bark dug deep through his hair and into the skin.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Ezra’s eyes searched until he found his assailant standing to his left, almost out of his field of vision. He couldn’t turn his head without choking.
The man laughed and stepped closer, squatting in front of Ezra. He lifted a lit lantern, chasing the shadows away from his features.
Ezra tried to speak but the pressure on his throat was too tight, he wheezed, trying to pull back from the ghost in front of him but he was held immobile.
The man before him looked so much like Tom Wyler. ‘Think Ezra.’ He commanded himself as the man lowered the lamp again. ‘Push aside the fear and think.’
It couldn’t be Wyler. Wyler was dead. He was dead. Ezra repeated it to himself as he fought his panic. He felt ready to throw up but knew he couldn’t, not like this.
It took a moment, then he blinked and saw it. This man’s hair was slightly darker than Tom’s blond. He was thinner and his eyes were dark dark brown.
“Ah, you finally see it don’t you?” The man swung the lamp as he gestured. “He was my brother,” he added simply. “And now you’ll die because he did.”
The lantern swung again and Ezra followed it with his eyes, searching frantically to figure out where they were. The forest, there were other trees surrounding them. He searched for landmarks. How far from town were they?
“Don’t go worrying,” Wyler’s brother told him. “No one around but us and those who might be close by are a little busy.” He waved again, the swinging lamp making the shadows dance creepily.
“There’s a little fire they’re dealing with.” The man’s arm stilled as he pointed.
Ezra strained to see out of the corner of his eye…smoke.
His eyes flicked back to his captor.
“That’s right.” The man grinned and patted Standish’s bad shoulder with a comforting gesture that sent waves of new viscous pain through Ezra’s body.
He screamed but had no voice. No air. His vision blurred as he struggled to stay conscious and breathe. Breathe. He forced air into his lungs, he could smell the smoke now.
A hand reached for him and suddenly the man was pulling at the belt. It loosened slightly and Ezra sucked in a breath. He was still not able to move or breathe freely, but he could get air into his struggling lungs.
“Don’t want you to choke out before the real show gets here.”
A hand smacked his cheek twice. “Don’t go anywhere,” he chuckled.
Ezra watched, wide eyed and helpless as the light moved away and left him in utter blackness.
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Vin paused and ran a hand over his sweating brow. Damn it was hot. The night breeze was cool, but it couldn’t cut through the growing heat of the fire. It burned free, eating through brush and dry branches and licking up trunks of trees faster than imaginable. It was marvelous, fascinating and terrifying all rolled together in one powerful force. It lit the night sky and sent beautiful sprays of sparks into the air.
“Anything?” Buck asked, coming up beside him.
Tanner shook his head. They’d searched the town for Ezra and found Chaucer safe in his stall. As soon as he saw the horse, Vin knew for certain. Someone had Ezra, the same someone who’d been tormenting him and starting these fires.
Worry ate at him. Where had they taken Standish?
Vin watched as JD and Nathan helped move another wagon away from the reach of the flames. It was the last one. Now there was nothing more to do about the fire except wait and watch.
A small crowd gathered, settlers and townsfolk alike, arriving to try to help and to watch, mesmerized at the terrible sight. To one side, women and children stood. He saw Mary Travis and Mrs. Potter among them, wrapping blankets around children and putting supporting arms around emotionally drained women.
Closer to the fire, a larger group of battered and weary men gathered. They were dirty and sweaty with shoulders slumped in defeat.
Vin caught sight of Chris and Josiah coming toward him and Wilmington.
“Anything?” Josiah repeated Buck’s question.
“Nothing obvious, “Tanner answered. “Too dark to track anything,” he voiced his frustrating. He’d scoured the alley behind the saloon with the aid of a lantern and though he could guess that Ezra’d been taken on horseback- until he had the morning light, he couldn’t be certain.
“Hey guys?” JD came up to them uncharacteristically quiet. Nathan joined them, having finished treating a few minor burns in the group of men. “Do you see that guy at the edge of the tree line?” Dunne gave a small nod over his shoulder. “He look familiar to you?”
Casually, Vin and Chris turned. By the line of trees, yet untouched by the flames, a man stood apart from any group. A lantern hung in one hand as he watched the flames. Occasionally, he’d glance at the people, then back into the forest behind him before returning his stare to the flames. Shadows of light danced over his face.
“Holy shit,” Buck breathed out as the light intensified and lit the man’s features. He took a step forward.
If Vin hadn’t known better he’d have sworn he was looking at Tom Wyler.
Chris grabbed Buck’s arm, keeping him still. “Go that way,” he motioned subtly. “We split up and make sure he has nowhere to run. We need him alive,” he reminded.
The Wyler look-alike was distracted enough by the fire that they were almost on him before he noticed. He glanced from Chris to Vin suddenly, starting like he was going to run for it before he saw Buck and Josiah moving in beside him. He stopped and smiled. He didn’t even try to draw his weapon.
“You’re too late,” he told Tanner as Chris grabbed him and took his pistol, handing it off to Sanchez. “You’ll have to live with it forever.”
“Who the hell are you?” Buck asked, taking the lantern from the man. “Where’s Ezra?”
“Chuck Miller,” the stranger answered easily. “And your friend is in hell by now.”
“No,” Josiah choked out.
Vin stared hard at Miller. “Wyler was your brother?”
“And you killed him, you bastard,” Miller sneered the words.
Scanning the man’s face, Tanner looked for any clue as to what had happened to Ezra.
A tree exploded suddenly, splitting down the center and sending a massive array of sparks into the night. A few of the women screamed. The men gasped.
Vin watched Miller’ expression closely as Chuck glanced toward the commotion. He didn’t see the satisfaction of revenge, instead he saw…anticipation.
“Damn.” Tanner snatched the lantern from Buck and took off into the forest, avoiding the flames and ducking the smoke as best he could.
“Vin!” He heard Chris’ shout and Miller screaming.
“You’re too late, Tanner. He’s already burning!” But he couldn’t stop, not if there was even a chance that Ezra was still alive.
Raising the lantern, he slowed. The smoke was thick and the weak light barely cut through it. It managed to cast just enough light that Vin spotted the obvious trail Miller had left when he plodded out of the forest.
Ezra struggled with his binding, silent screams tearing from his restricted throat as pain knifed though his shoulder and upper body. He choked and gasped, barking harsh coughs as the smoke around him continued to thicken. It hovered above and around him, stinging his eyes and stealing what little air he could suck into his straining lungs.
He could see the fire now, moving closer as it consumed its abundance of fuel. He listened as it crackled and popped and hissed its way towards him, dancing wildly from tree to tree. He could feel its heat, like the mutated warmth of a comforting campfire. It was coming for him.
There’d been no sign of his captor and now, as he watched the flames race closer, Ezra weighed his options.
He could wait. He could sit in the dirt, continuing to struggle in a hopeless attempt to free himself until the flames finally reached him. If he was lucky, the smoke would take him first, but he’d never been much for relying on luck.
His other option…Ezra swallowed painfully feeling the full width of the band of leather that held him fast against the tree. All he had to do was pull forward a little bit; it wouldn’t take much to cut off what little air he was getting now.
The idea of letting the belt win sent waves of anger and shame through him and yet…it was that or burn.
A tree popped nearby and Ezra tired to turn his head, but the belt held him in place. He coughed roughly, squeezing his eyes closed at the new level of pain that assaulted his body.
He couldn’t take any more. Tears filled his eyes, but instead of bringing relief to his dry eyes, the stinging intensified. He wasn’t sure he could do this. Slowly he forced himself forward, but the moment the belt cut off his air completely he stopped, slumping back.
No. The word resounded through his mind like an echo in a canyon. He wanted to live. He didn’t want to give up or give in to his pain and fear. He didn’t want to let the others down with his own weakness.
‘They’ll never know’ a small voice whispered in the night, but he pushed it away, he would know.
The heat around him intensified as if mocking his vain hope. He wheezed again, searching for air as sweat rolled down his face and back. It was too hot.
“Ezra!”
Time froze and he opened his eyes at the sound of his name barked out over the crackling flames.
“Ezra!”
Vin.
He opened his mouth to scream for the tracker, but he was still voiceless. Wildly, he began to thrash, kicking his legs in the dirt, ignoring the thousand blades that cut through his upper body with each movement.
Suddenly Tanner was there dropping to his knees in front of Ezra and gasping for air in the layers of smoke. His blue eyes lifted and met Ezra’s.
“Mother of God,” Tanner whispered the words even as he flew into motion. He went for the belt first.
Ezra gagged and choked as it pulled tighter, struggling even as he knew Vin was helping. It only lasted a moment and then instantly his head fell forward and he dragged huge gulps of air in only to cough from the suffocating thickness of the dark smoke. He felt Tanner working on the rope binding his wrists when he heard someone crashing toward them.
Buck and Chris seemed to materialize out of the clouds of billowing smoke. Both wore bandanas over their nose and mouth. Buck winked at Ezra as he moved to help Vin.
Chris sank down in front of Ezra moving in close and putting one hand behind Standish’s neck and raising a canteen to his lips before Vin even had him completely free.
Ezra drank greedily, ignoring the way the water seemed to scour his abused throat. He tried to say thank you but at that moment Vin freed his arms and instead he swayed weakly, a small squeal escaping as he tried to scream.
“Jesus.” Chris caught him and held him up. “Stay with us, Ezra.”
“We need to get out of here.” Buck grimaced at the growing flames. Turning he realized the path they’d come in on was now blazing. “We’re trapped.”
“No, this way.” Vin motioned. “Stay low.”
Buck moved to the other side of Ezra and together he and Chris half crawled, half dragged the southerner after Tanner.
“I know this hurts, Ezra, but hang on to us,” Chris sounded through the haze of pain. Ezra lost any account of how far they crawled through the burning forest until suddenly he was sinking into icy cold water. He stiffened and gasped.
“We got you, Ezra. We’re almost clear.” Chris voice was ragged and abused by the smoke.
Just when Ezra was sure he couldn’t take the pain anymore, everything stopped. He felt Buck and Chris lower him the rest of the way to the ground, turning him carefully onto his back.
“Damn it,” Chris growled. “His shoulder’s been out this whole time.”
“If we’d stopped back there we’d have been roasted,” Buck reminded.
“Can you fix it?” He heard Vin ask.
“If you hold him.”
Hand and grips shifted, then there was a softly whispered “Sorry, Ezra” before his shoulder exploded and the world vanished.
Ezra came awake slowly, blinking dry crusty eyes open to find himself in Nathan’s clinic.
“Afternoon,” Josiah rumbled beside him and slowly, carefully, Ezra turned his head in Sanchez’s direction.
“How,” he tried to ask, but his throat erupted and he immediately started choking. Pain vibrated through his body as Josiah eased him up and held him until the worst had passed. A cup was pressed to his lips and he drank slowly, relieved as the water cooled his burning throat.
“Try not to talk much. Whisper if you have to say something.” Gently the big man eased him back down again.
His shoulder ached, but the arm was bound tightly to his bare chest, the knife like pain gone.
“Others?” he questioned in a gasp.
“They’re all safe,” Josiah answered. “Breathed in a tad too much smoke, but they’re fine.”
Relief filled Ezra. “What?” he whispered cautiously.
Josiah merely nodded. “Tom Wyler had a brother two years his junior, Chuck Miller.”
Sanchez reached forward and readjusted the blanket over Ezra that’d slid down during his coughing fit. “Miller admitted he was the one Wyler was sending wires to back when you were attacked. Seems Guy Royal had promised the brothers land of their own if they got to those land deeds before the settlers did. When that didn’t work- Royal backed out and wouldn’t give Miller any property. His revenge was to try and burn out the settlers…and go after you. Tried to make you think you were losing your mind first.”
Ezra closed his eyes, weariness pushing him back into darkness. “It worked,” he whispered faintly.
“No, it almost worked, big difference there, son.” Josiah’s voice assured as it faded.
When Ezra awoke again, he heard voices. Josiah was still there but Chris, Vin and Nathan were, too.
“Who found him?” Josiah asked.
“Buck,” Vin answered, his soft voice sounding rough and harsh, after effects of the smoke he’d inhaled while rescuing him. Ezra felt a flash of guilt with the thought.
“What happened?” Nathan’s voice drew him back to the on-going conversation.
“He hung himself, “Chris sounded tired. “with his own belt.”
Silence descended on the four and Ezra let himself sink back into sleep again.
The third time Ezra woke, Josiah was sitting beside him again.
“You ever take a break?” he tested his voice carefully, taking each word slowly. His accent was thick and heavy.
A slow grin spread across Josiah’s face. “Well, you see, brother, you’ve been sleeping for nearly two days. How do you now I’ve not been taking breaks.”
Ezra stared at Josiah. “Two days?” he gasped and started to push himself up.
Awkwardly balanced, Josiah easily pushed him back down. “Stay put,” the preacher ordered, keeping a warm hand on Ezra’s chest. Once sure that Ezra was obeying, he moved his hand.
“First off, you’re okay. Roughed up quite a bit and you’re gonna have to keep that shoulder still for longer than you’ll like, but everything will heal.” Josiah assured.
“The fire?”
“Burned itself out once it reached the stream. “
“Miller is dead,” Ezra declared suddenly.
Josiah paused. “You heard that?”
Weakly, Standish admitted he had.
“Yes, he is,” Josiah leaned back in his chair.
“He was there during the first attack.” Though he had to whisper, Ezra found he was able to breathe and talk without much difficulty. “I remembered after he left me in the woods,” he admitted.
He saw compassion fill Josiah’s eyes and closed his. The door to the clinic opened and he listened to the familiar tread of Vin’s stride cross the room.
“You remember?” Josiah questioned.
He opened his eyes and locked gazes with Vin.
“I remember every moment of the attack,” he confessed. “Just not all the faces.”
They sat then and listened without interrupting as Ezra talked, spilling details he’d buried and hidden. He let it all go. Every comment, every blow, every kick, every painful, humiliating moment of his attackers dragging him through the dirt like a beaten animal.
With details went the bitterness, the shame and the guilt until all that was left was Ezra, bruised, broken, hollowed out and scarred but unburdened and at peace.
When he was finished and silent, he watched as Vin slowly uncurled white knuckled fists and stood. Tanner took a step closer, careful not to crowd, but not shying away. There was no judgment in his eyes, no pity, only cold deadly anger that Ezra knew instinctively was not aimed at him.
“When you do remember the others,” Tanner whispered thickly. “You let me know.” Then he nodded once and slipped out of the room.
“I’ve made him angry.” Ezra looked at Sanchez. “Not at me,” he acknowledged.
Sanchez met his gaze and it was then that Ezra realized Josiah was barely hanging onto his temper.
“I didn’t let go of my anger for you to take it on,” Ezra said gently.
The air seemed to whoosh out of Josiah in one long breath. “It ain’t a bad thing to want justice for a friend, “ he said.
“Unless it turns you into someone like Miller,” Ezra point out. “Consumed by his negative emotions until that’s all he has left.”
Josiah looked again at Ezra, a smile forming slowly as his features relaxed. “He made the wrong choice,” Sanchez acknowledged. “He fed the wrong wolf.”
[ part one][ part two]