Part One
Chapter One
The October sunshine drizzled lazily over the land below, melting the semi-arid
landscape of the territories. A few hazy clouds drifted across the azure sky,
the hawks and eagles gliding effortlessly in and out of the shadows they
created, using the alternating air currents to lift them higher and lower.
Their playful cries complemented the laughter and words floating up from the
lively village below, where people bustled around with light steps. It was a
little before
The shrieking of the children brought Nathan from his reverie as he inspected Carl Weathers broken leg. Looking up, he couldn’t help but smile as he saw Ezra swinging one of the village children around in circles. The gambler held on to the child’s right leg and arm as he spun the little boy, the child’s excited squeals increasing with each turn. The tails of the cardinal red wool coat Ezra always wore to the village lifted like wings as he moved, and his face was wild with laughter.
Seeing his friend like that was always amazed the healer--most of the time the only emotion the gambler showed was the occasional raised eyebrow or that irritating smug smile.
"Ahem!" a loud grunt from Carl returned Nathan to the purpose of the visit, and the healer offered him a sheepish smile.
They were in the Seminole village just outside of
"Sorry Carl," Nathan chuckled, returning to the splint he’d been tying off. Carl just sighed, and looked over at the gambler.
"Your friend there has a way with the kids, don’t he," the roughened black man noted, his voice soft.
"Yep."
"I notice he don’t get along quite as well with adults." Carl meant this as a question, hoping to engage Nathan in conversation. Anything to get his mind off his leg.
"Oh, well, Ezra’s a little prickly when it comes to our kind, and they return the sentiment," Nathan explained, shrugging as he wrapped the cloth gingerly around the leg.
"You mean colored folks?" Carl tried to hide the disgust out of his voice. The Southern drawl of the brightly dressed man had not gone unnoticed, and the chills that crawled up his spine had been difficult to hide. Nathan smiled, and looked up at Carl’s eyes shaking his head.
"Nah. I mean honest folks. He doesn’t know how to deal with us."
Carl looked puzzled, the looked over at the gambler. Ezra was spinning a smaller child now, a girl, and he had about ten or fifteen other children just outside the circle screaming that they were next. Nathan leaned forward, ripping the cloth he was tying with his teeth. Carl switched his dark eyes back to the healer as he felt Nathan tie off the cloth, and get up.
"But you trust him," Carl said, once more indicating a question with a raise of bushy black eyebrows.
Nathan looked over at Ezra, and Carl saw the smile falter a little before Nathan replied. "Yes," he stated simply, though Carl had felt the slight uncertainty. Then the healer looked down at Carl, and his eyes were now twinkling with mischief. "But not with my money." He chuckled, and Carl, though a little bemused, nodded and smiled crookedly in response.
Nathan knew Carl was only being polite, but it didn’t matter. Both Carl and Sarah would soon learn of the motley group of seven men that protected this village, and the town near by. Truth be told, Nathan could not explain what joined him and the others together, only that somewhere, deep within him, a bond had formed. It was a bond he hoped never broke.
Nathan glanced down at the leg, and batted away Carl’s hand as the younger man went to scratch the scab on his shin that he’d received in the same fall. "You will have to stay off that leg for a few weeks. Now, I know that you’re worried that you won’t be able to earn your keep here, but I am sure that the families here will find something you can do. If not, you can always come into town. I know the owner of the general store is looking for some counter help. She’ll let you work sitting down."
Carl grimaced, not sure what to make of the offer. He knew the town was mostly made up of white folks, and that immediately made him want to stay away. But looking into Nathan’s open face, he nodded and extended a hand. "Thank you, Nathan. We’ll see what happens."
Nathan took the proffered hand and shook it. Smiling, he took his leave to
go and fetch Ezra from his fan club. If they had lunch now, they could be back
in
Ezra gently dropped Maria to the ground, the four year old crying out in dismay as the ride finished. Laughing, the gambler shooed her away, then put up his hand to wave off Sally as she came forward, wanting another ride. The world refused to stay still in Ezra’s vision, and he focused hard on the little gold pendant hanging from Sally’s neck. He was using it to center his world.
"My love," he panted, his hands now resting on his knees, "I am afraid that I have expended my reserves for the time being. You must give me some minutes so that I may recover."
Nathan called Ezra’s name, then laughed as the gambler straightened up, only to stagger back a couple of steps, obviously dizzy. The gambler ran his heel into a small boulder and fell backwards, much to the delight of all the children still gathered around him. Within seconds, they were all over him, tickling and generally mucking around with him. Ezra growled and gave as good as he got, tickling one of the boys in particular who had been the first to jump on the supine gambler.
All at once, the lunch bell sounded, and the children immediately rolled off Ezra, rushing to the sound. He lay there panting, and looked up at the upside down Nathan as the healer leant over, smiling broadly.
"Looks like you were saved by the bell, Ezra. I don’t think you could of survived the assault."
"An assault…" Ezra wheezed. "That was more like a war! Now help me up, you reprobate." He stuck a hand in the air, and waved it impatiently in front of his friend. With an exaggerated sigh, Nathan grabbed it and pulled…a little too harshly. Ezra bounded to his feet and stumbled forward a few steps. He glared at Nathan’s renewed laughter, and rubbed his arm as thought it hurt.
"You are a paragon of drollery, Mr. Jackson," Ezra mocked, his eyes shining with feigned indignation. Nathan laughed harder, mainly because he had no idea what drollery meant, and Ezra quickly joined him. Across the way, Carl frowned, then shook his head as Sarah helped him limp into the small tent where they were staying. Ezra threw his arm around Nathan’s shoulders, and playfully pushed him forward, to which Nathan responded by hunkering down and throwing himself at Ezra’s waist. They both fell to the ground in fits of laughter, dust rising up around them in a great puff. Neither noticed the rider coming in hard, until he was almost upon them.
Buck galloped into the canyon, steering his Gray directly towards the two men near the far side. Sweat rolled down his back, and he frowned when he saw them. He pulled in hard, scattering dust clouds up around the horses hooves. Nathan looked up, wiping his eyes, and his smile quickly fell as he saw Buck’s face.
"There’s trouble in town. Mr. Reed just rolled in with his wife and daughter, all looking pretty bad. We need you now." The gunslinger said this quickly, without preamble, staring at Nathan. Then he switched his gaze to the gambler. "You and me are to meet Chris and Vin out by the Reed ranch to see if we can’t find the bastards who did this."
Less than a minute later, all three were gone from the village. Little Sally stood in the doorway to the mess hut, fingering her necklace worriedly as she watched Ezra tear off with Buck away from the village. A dark cloud seemed to have descended over her best friend, and she hoped he would be okay. Just as quickly, the sensation passed, and her five year old thoughts returned to the task at hand – lunch.
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Chapter Two
Ezra stood up slightly in the saddle as he galloped ahead of Buck. They were both riding fairly hard, trying to catch up with Chris and Vin before they reached the ranch. After the hard ride Buck had already taken to get to the village, it was easy to see understand why Chaucer was quicker than Buck’s tall Gray, and Buck was struggling to keep up. Ezra didn’t dare slow down, however, his eyes sweeping the horizons for riders at the same time that he watched the ground for holes. Chaucer, for his part, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the exertion. He thought it was a race.
The Reed’s were one of the families who lived furthest from town, barely within the township’s reach. Indeed, some argued that they weren’t actually under the Seven’s protection, seeing as how the family rarely came into town, but one look at the battered wagon was enough to spur people into action.
Buck’s jaw clenched as he remembered the sight. Martha Reed, the twelve year old daughter, was the one driving the decrepit wagon. She was bleeding from a shot to her shoulder, but she was lucid enough to tell them that her home had been hit. Somehow, the resourceful child had gotten her mother and father into the back of the wagon, and gotten away. It was when she'd been driving it away that she'd been shot in the shoulder.
Who the hell shoots a child in the back?
Buck could only hope that Nathan could save them. All three Reeds were unconscious when he’d left.
Ezra showed signs of slowing, for which Buck couldn’t help but release a small sigh of relief. A few moments later, they trotted up to the ridge and looked down at the little homestead. Ezra couldn’t withhold the gasp of horror, and Buck started swearing, his anger building even higher.
Below them, Chris and Vin were just beginning to look through the ruined single story home. It was drilled with bullet holes on the front and the side, the wooden walls and porch hanging loosely from rusted nails. Part of the house looked as if it had caved in on itself, probably the front room, and other parts were still smoking from the barrage of weapons fire that must have destroyed it in a matter of minutes.
The barn off to the left side off the house had been set on fire, and was now merely a shell. Small flickers of flames and burning embers were still visible in the wreckage, and the smell of burnt flesh assailed their nostrils, even from up here. Apparently, the horses and goats that had been inside at the time did not have time to escape. Ezra shut his eyes, and faced away, trying to regain some control. Buck’s swearing died down a little, until he was finally quiet.
"We’d best get down there, Ezra," Buck muttered, after a few moments.
"Of course, Mr. Wilmington." Ezra replied, his voice once more under control. He had placed his handkerchief to his face to try and block out some of the smells, but it wasn’t having much effect. Buck looked at him and smiled crookedly.
"Damn hoss, how is it that you can still have airs at a time like this?"
Ezra snorted, glaring at Buck for a moment, then spurred Chaucer forward down the hill.
Vin and Chris both looked up, hearing the riders before seeing them, and nodded a welcome. Then they returned to the task before them. Vin was searching for signs of tracks, Chris was looking to see what could be salvaged from the mess. Ezra and Buck soon joined their leader, knowing not to get in the way of the tracker.
Gingerly, they made their way through the house, wary that the structure might collapse even further. Ezra stopped at the door to the collapsed front room, which had clearly taken the brunt of the assault. He glanced at the blood on the floor and walls, amazed that the Reeds had gotten away at all. He put a hand to his forehead, and sighed. Chris wandered up next to him, his blue eyes narrowed into slits. He pulled his hat lower over his face as he too looked into the ruin.
"Josiah said you knew these folks some. Any idea why this might of occurred?"
Ezra looked up surprised. "How did Josiah know….?"
Chris shrugged. "He had a talk once with Mrs. Reed and her daughter when they came into town a couple of weeks ago, when you and Vin were in Eagle Bend. Apparently, Martha was looking for you. Something about a promise to teach her some kind of card trick and to give her a pamphlet about some school or other." Chris’s slight smile fell into a grimace as he thought of the little girl’s injuries. He had been the one to carry her into Nathan’s clinic after she'd fainted in his arms, Mary and JD just ahead of him, trying to get everything ready. The black clad gunslinger absently brushed his duster where some of her blood had dried.
Ezra looked at the filth covered floor, his brow furrowed. "I admit
that I’ve been to visit a few times while on patrol. I realize we aren’t
supposed to spend more time than necessary when visiting these outlying
ranches, but that little girl is quite…exceptional. A real ‘diamond in the
rough’ as they say. I brought her some books, and was telling her a little
about some of the eastern colleges. There is one in particular that was started
about ten years ago by a brewer friend of my mother…." He shrugged,
remembering their discussion of
"As to the Reeds, I believe them to be beyond reproach. They even invited me in for dinner a few times." Ezra looked around, involuntarily looking towards the dining room on the other side of the hallway in which they stood. It too was a mess of dust and wood splinters. "I can think of no reason within the realm of sanity why anyone would want to hurt these people." His eyes focused on Chris’s blue ones, so that the gunslinger could see the absolute conviction in Ezra’s eyes with respect to the Reeds’ honesty. He didn’t doubt the gambler. The man’s unique ability to see directly into the heart of people had saved them too often to be questioned. That just made Chris angrier at the senselessness of this crime.
"Keep looking then, and gather some things together that you think the Reeds might need while in town," Chris growled. "I’m going to check on Vin."
With a short nod of his head, Ezra turned down the creaking hallway to head back towards the bedrooms. Buck watched him pass, then joined Chris. Together, the two men wandered out the front to find Vin. The saw him about twenty yards away to the right of the house, standing near a small clump of trees and the well. The burnt barn was on the other side of the house, and partly hidden from view.
The tracker was kneeling down, staring intently at the ground off to the side of the house. He stood as the others approached, his mind whirring with the calculations and estimations he knew Chris would be asking for. He took a few steps forward, and looked once more at the specks of blood on the ground near his feet. Then he turned to await the others. He started speaking before Chris even opened his mouth.
"I’m guessing there was about twenty of them, all armed with rifles. They didn’t attempt to take the house, as most didn’t move from this spot, they simply wanted to destroy it. They must’ve been awful cocky--I don’t even think any of ‘em got off their horses to find cover when the Reed’s started firing back." He shook his head, taking off his hat in order to run a hand through his long brown hair. He looked back at the house, indicating it with a nod of his head.
"I figure the girl and her parents must of had the wagon round back, probably already hitched up for some reason, and she took off round the far side of the barn to get away. She was real lucky they didn’t go after her."
"I guess they didn’t think she’d make it all the way to town," Buck said darkly.
"Truth be told, I’m not really sure how she did." Vin replied, shaking his head to show his astonishment. He too had witnessed the sad arrival of the family in town, and the state of the poor girl.
"Ezra said she was something special," Chris added, smiling a little. Then he looked at the tracks, noticing the fairly wide swath of trampled grass leading away towards where the sun hung in the sky.
Vin nodded, seeing Chris’s thoughts without needing
to hear them. "Yeah, about fifteen of ‘em headed almost directly south, towards
"Purgatory," Buck concluded for him. Vin just nodded.
"The rest, probably back to whoever owns ‘em.
I don’t know. Either way, it's out of our jurisdiction. The area west of here
is under the protection of the town of
"Okay, Vin, you and Buck see if you can’t track the leaders. If someone had the money to hire that many desperados, they must be pretty big. I wish I knew what they wanted with such a tiny place as this ranch." He sighed, and looked north. "Ezra and I’ll check out the other outlying ranches along this border. As soon as you get an idea of what’s out there, get home. I don’t want any heroics. I think we all want a piece of this one."
"You want me to talk to the Meeksville Sheriff?" Buck asked.
Chris gave his oldest friend a sideways glance, wandering if he should trust his sudden gut feeling, and noticed Vin’s eyes narrowing behind the large man. "Ahh…no. Not yet." Chris saw Vin smile knowingly in agreement.
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Nathan looked down at the lifeless body of Mrs. Reed, his heart pounding with regret and guilt. Gently, he shut her eyes and pulled the sheet over her. In the corner, he heard JD let out a quiet cry and then leave the room. Nathan bowed his head, the familiar feelings of inadequacy and fear washing over him as he wondered if a real doctor might have been able to save the woman.
His rational mind berated him for such foolish thoughts, reminding him that Mrs. Reed had been long gone before he’d even arrived. The blood loss alone was enough to end her life, but combined with deepness of the wounds and the massive internal damage, she never had a chance. Still, these thoughts were never enough to calm the shakes that overcame him in the silence of the clinic. It took several deep breaths before he felt strong enough to check on his other patients.
Paul Reed lay on his back in the nearby cot, breathing slowly but regularly. A bandage was wrapped tightly around his head, where a bullet had grazed his skull. It would give the man a serious headache, but, Nathan hoped, not too bad of a concussion. He’d checked the man’s pupils and had been satisfied to see them responding evenly, albeit slowly. The man also wore bandages around his waist, where a bullet had found his spleen, and a splint on his left leg. It was broken in two places, but Nathan was pretty sure he’d set it straight enough that the poor man would recover full use without a limp.
Curled into her father’s side, Martha Reed shared her father’s cot. She lay on her right side, as her left arm was bound tightly to her side. The gunshot to her shoulder had broken her left scapula, but at least the bone had prevented the bullet from penetrating too deeply. It probably saved her life. She also had a bandage round her left thigh, where a bullet had grazed her leg. Now, she lay her head on her father’s chest, loose nut brown curls contrasting sharply with her father’s pale skin, her sleep comforted by the continued beating of her father’s heart. Nathan was not looking forward to telling her that her mother’s heart no longer beat in time.
Outside, JD took some deep breaths, trying to hold onto his sanity. When the wagon had pulled in, and he saw all the blood, he had wanted to ride straight to the ranch to gun down the bastards who had done this. But his body had disobeyed, and he had run to the clinic instead. Without being told, he’d set the water boiling and laid out the herbs he knew Nathan would need. Of course, Nathan wasn’t there, but JD had been ordered by the healer so often that he instinctively knew what to do without him. Mary had joined him only moments later, pulling out the bandages and helping him prepare as the others brought the bodies inside. He and Mary had done what they could to clean them up before Nathan arrived, but Mrs. Reed had been such a mess. If only he had known more about what to do…maybe she’d still be alive.
Wiping away a useless tear, he looked up to see what shadow approached to torment him now. The preacher’s blue eyes gazed back at him calmly, giving JD strength without a word being spoken.
"Mrs. Reed is dead, Josiah. I…we…couldn’t stop the bleeding." The tremors in his voice stilled a little as he took some more breaths.
Josiah nodded, placing a hand on the young sheriff’s shoulder. "She was dead before she arrived, JD, and nothing on this earth was going to prevent her from taking her place in the heavens. But Martha and her father have a second chance at life, and for that, you and Mary must be praised. Nathan told me earlier that, if the two of you hadn’t been so quick to clean their wounds, none of the family might have made it."
JD accepted the praise with a hollow heart, but at least it calmed him down. He smiled at his friend in gratitude, and sat down on the clinic steps to hear whether Mr. Reed would survive the night. Josiah sat next to him, and let the young man lean on him a little.
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Chapter Three
There were two other ranches that existed as far out as the Reeds, and also shared a border with the Meeksville township. One was newly claimed by a young Swedish couple by the name of Aif, and the other was a slightly larger hold owned by a family of Germans named Goldman. Like the Reeds, neither of these families came into town much, preferring to be on their own, but the seven knew of them. They visited them while on patrol about once a week.
"You hang out much with these other folks?" Chris asked, nonchalantly, as they gently rode along. It would probably take about another ten minutes before they reached the Aif farmhouse, then two more hours to the Goldman’s. It would be night by the time they got there. Ezra glanced at his partner, trying to discern a hidden chastisement in the words.
"With the Aifs, no. I just say hello and check that everything is alright. As for the Goldmans, I have spent some time with them. They have a couple of little boys whom I thought could use some refinement." Ezra shrugged sheepishly.
Chris smiled, "Ezra, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I happen to know that Josiah and JD do the same thing. The reason the Reeds approached our wayward preacher in town that past week was because they knew him." He shrugged, "I guess the rest of us just don’t feel so inclined to get to know everyone."
When Ezra didn’t answer, Chris couldn’t resist scrutinizing the gambler for a moment. "Truth be told, Ezra, I didn’t think you were the type to get involved with people either."
The only expression that crossed the gambler’s face was that of a slight raise of the eyebrows. "I suppose, then, that you don’t know me as well as you thought," he replied, his voice flat.
"Nah…." Chris replied, "I know a few things. I’m just a little slow at picking up on ‘em sometimes."
"Well, Mr. Larabee, permit me to enlighten you. Quite simply, gentlemen, such as myself, whose primary vocation involves the studying and dealing with people’s wants and needs, must of necessity be informed about all the personalities within their purview."
Chris mulled this over for a moment, ensuring that he understood it all, then emitted a short laugh. "Did you say you ‘deal’ with people’s needs, Ezra?" Chris couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. "And here I thought you just conned and swindled people for a living."
Ezra viewed his fellow peace keeper with disdain from below his hat, then looked away. "I prefer not to use such vulgar words, Mr. Larabee. Moreover, I do not believe they accurately characterize my profession. "
Chris continued to look at Ezra, his head tilted slightly to the side. Then he grinned, "No, I suppose they don’t. Least, not any more."
Ezra didn’t respond, and kept his face turned away in order that Chris wouldn’t see the slightly bemused expression that briefly crossed his face. He didn’t want his leader to know just how true those words were. Truth be told, Ezra had tried so many professions that he wasn’t sure what he did anymore. All he knew was that, however uncomfortable this current work sometimes made him, it was the first time he’d felt…solid. They sat in silence for the remainder of the ride, until they reached a grouping of trees. The Aif farmhouse was on the other side.
"Who was the last person to ride patrol out here?" Ezra asked, breaking the mood.
"Vin. Six days ago. He said everything looked fine. Even spoke with Mr. Aif about where to hire some folks to help him build a barn. They looked to be settling in quite happily."
"Well, let us hope that nothing has gone awry," Ezra stated.
Moments later, they entered the small clearing where the house stood. It was a pretty dwelling, small and painted a cheery white. Blue curtains blew in the open windows, and the sound of the nearby spring bubbling out of the earth greeted their ears. Beyond the house, the woods opened into a large meadow, and fenced off grasslands could be seen in the distance.
"Looks like Aif got his fences up," Chris muttered, dismounting. "Hello, the house!" he called to the structure. When no one responded, Ezra dismounted as well. Unconsciously, both men brushed their coats back to reveal their weapons.
"Mr. Aif?" Ezra called, "Laura?"
Chris motioned that they should approach from different sides. Nodding, Ezra took to the left side, creeping around to the back. The single story wooden structure was still somewhat unfinished on this side, making access to the kitchen quite easy. Silently, Ezra pushed open the loose door, gun in hand. He heard Chris enter via the front. There was only the bedroom, a small parlor and the upstairs loft to inspect. It was obvious all were empty.
"Deserted?" Ezra asked, looking down at Chris from the ladder to the fairly empty loft.
"Well, they didn’t take everything. Maybe only enough to fill a wagon," Chris replied, looking around.
"Why would they leave? And where would they go?"
Chris shook his head. This small holding was perfect for a family just starting out--something many craved when they came out here. In fact, it was prettier and better set up than most, considering the trees and the ready spring. He looked out the back door to the grasslands beyond, and noticed the small grouping of cows that milled about.
"What is even stranger, they didn’t take their livestock. That has to set them back a lot."
"Chris," Ezra called from the front parlor. The gunslinger turned around, pausing as Ezra walked back into the hall holding a piece of paper in his hands. Uncertain green eyes lifted up to meet darker ones: "I found this on the table here. It’s a notice of eviction."
"A what?" Chris moved forward, grabbing the thin parchment from Ezra’s hands.
Ezra licked his lips, "It claims that the Aif’s are on land owned by someone named Marcus Allen, and it gave them until yesterday to vacate. It had to have been backed up by a strong threat, for them to move so quickly."
"Is this real?" Chris asked. "There is no Marcus Allen here."
"I have no idea as to its legitimacy. However, it is signed by the Sheriff of Meeksville, Jeff Clark."
"Well, then, there is your answer. He is out of his jurisdiction."
"The lines around here are not fixed as yet, Chris. Plus, look at the letters after the Sheriff’s name. Mr. Clark is a certified land surveyor."
"So, what, you’re telling me this might be valid?"
"The eviction notice as a legal document, maybe. But whether Mr. Allen has title, that I doubt. If it turns out he has made a false claim, then this eviction can be overturned."
"Maybe we should go and talk to this Mr. Allen," Chris muttered angrily. He had only met the Aif’s once, but they seemed good people. They didn’t deserve to treated so roughly.
"My guess is, Mr. Allen may also be behind the debacle at the Reed estate. I would not wish to step into his nest until we are certain we have the law on our side," Ezra suggested calmly.
"Ezra, we always have the law on our side," Chris retorted sharply, with perhaps a bit more force than he intended. Didn’t Ezra see what had happened at the Reeds? Of course what Mr. Allen was doing was against the law. Ezra just smiled at his leader’s conviction, lowering his gaze once more to the parchment in the gunslinger’s hands.
"Only in that you are a law unto yourself, Mr. Larabee," he noted sardonically. "Unfortunately, when it comes to property rights, the law can be a very malleable substance. I know, as I have, on occasion, had excuse to bend it myself." He paused, tilting his head nonchalantly at Chris’ raised eyebrows. "I think it would be in our best interest to continue on our journey to visit the Goldmans. I know for a fact that they have been on that property nearly ten years now, the age of their eldest son. If they have been threatened, I believe they would not be as accommodating as the Aif’s. I just hope they have not yet met the Reed’s fate."
Chris frowned, annoyed at his partner’s seemingly blase attitude, and tucked the notice into the pouch hanging from his gunbelt.
"Did the Aif’s have title?" he asked, as he took one last look around the nearly empty room.
"No. I believe they hoped to gain possession through peaceable means. As far as I know, none of the lands around here are claimed."
Chris shook his head, took one last look around. "Fine. Let’s get going."
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Buck whistled as he looked down the valley, and Vin grimaced. The two lawmen were standing on a hill, Gray and Peso resting a few feet behind them, looking down on an enormous ranch. It seemed to spread out for miles on both sides, fences and dirt roads scarring the fertile landscape. Buck estimated that at least two thousand head of cattle roamed around it, and he could see horses and pigs moving around in pens. They had jumped a few fences to get this far, but neither man wanted to go any further. Nor did they need to. It was obvious where the tracks led.
"How many men you think this guy owns?" Buck whispered, awed by the vastness of the holding.
"I don’t know. I ain’t never seen anyone claim this much land for their own," Vin replied quietly, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. The fences had irritated him, but this blatant example of overweening greed was too much. "Who the hell would need all this? What is he planning on doing? Feeding the whole damn territory?"
"Naw, pard. I think he just wants to own it. Uh oh," Buck pointed towards where a group of riders were fast approaching their position. "I think we may have a welcoming committee." Both men turned to face the oncoming men, hands loose by their sides. Vin was tempted to cross his arms, but didn’t want to appear to defensive or angry. Instead, the tracker stepped back to lean against Peso’s side, trying to appear relaxed.
Three men galloped up, spitting dust in their wake. Two held rifles on the gunslingers, while the man in the middle addressed them.
"You are on private property. You will leave now, or you will be arrested for trespassing."
"We were just passing through, friend," Buck replied, squinting up at the man’s face in a fading light. "We didn’t intend to…"
"I do not care why you are here. If you do not turn around now, we are under orders to shoot."
Something akin to surprise crossed Buck’s face. "You’re joking," He said. Vin, looked to the ground, but one hand had drifted up to Peso’s saddle horn. The sound of the rifles hammer’s being pulled back answered Buck’s statement.
"Okay, okay, no problem." Buck said waving his hands in front of him, and nodded to Vin. The tracker just sighed. Both peacekeepers swiftly mounted, and turned their horses around. The ranch hands surrounded them, rifles still raised. It looked as if the two lawmen were to be escorted off the property. Trying to appear as harmless as possible, Buck and Vin started their horses off at a brisk trot, and the riders shadowed them.
The continued silently all the way to the first fence. Buck was about to get off and open the gate, but a quick order not to move came from the lead ranch hand. One of the rifleman dismounted, and swung the gate open, allowing the others to pass. He quickly remounted, and had his gun pointed at the lawmen again.
"Isn’t this a little extreme?" Buck grumbled. But he wasn’t answered. He pursed his lips in annoyance and brushed at his black moustache. As they approached the second fence, he tried again to get the men to talk. "At least tell me whose property it is that we trespassed on. That way I can warn others from coming this way."
The leader narrowed his eyes for a moment before replying. "This is the Square M ranch. It is owned by Marcus Allen."
They reached the second fence, and the procedure was repeated. This time, however, the riders didn’t follow Buck and Vin out.
"We will keep the rifles on you until you are out of range. Now move it," the leader ordered.
Buck raised his eyebrows at Vin. The tracker didn’t respond, his eyes focused somewhere else. However, the tense jaw was enough for Buck to know his friend was barely keeping his anger in check. With a loud "Ha!" Buck spurred his mount forward, Vin racing right behind.
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With Josiah’s help, JD and Nathan got Mrs. Reed to the undertaker’s, where Silace put the woman in the ice house in back. It was unknown when Mr. Reed would wake up, if at all, but they hoped it would be in enough time so that he could say goodbye to his wife before they had to put her in the ground.
Little Martha had woken once, briefly, but was asleep again almost immediately. Josiah sat by the bedside she shared with her father, stroking her nut brown hair. Occasionally, he’d wipe her tear stained face as she cried in her sleep.
Outside the window to the sick room, Nathan leant against the banister of the balcony attached to his small two story clinic. Occasionally, townsfolk called up to ask how the family was, and Nathan would respond with a few non-committal phrases. Mary had gone to get some dinner for her son, telling Nathan she would have Inez send some food over.
As always, the healer was exhausted, and he desperately tried to wipe the sleep from his chocolate colored eyes. After the hard ride home from the village this afternoon, to the surgery he’d had to do on these poor folks, it was all he could do to stay awake. JD helped as much as he could, but the boy had his duties. He was at the jail now, looking through the list of wanted men known to be in the area and trying to guess which might have been involved. He also cased the telegraph office every now and then for any news about gangs in the area, or any information about the Reeds. So far, none of the feelers he had sent around to neighboring towns had come back.
As Nathan watched with hooded eyes, JD walked out of the jail and leant against the door frame. He was obviously watching for the others to return. Nathan couldn’t resist a glance westwards, but knew that it was unlikely they would see any of their friends until morning. It was going to be a long night.
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Ezra and Chris topped the rise leading to the Goldman homestead, and both gave an audible sigh of relief to see it both intact and occupied. Still, both took the opportunity to take a good look around the space before moving down. Neither man relished an ambush.
The two story farmhouse was alit with candlelight in the fading sunlight, and the sounds of a family just setting down the eat dinner carried up to the lawmen. The Goldmans had built their home about ten yards from a steep cliff face, which afforded them both shelter and protection. Behind the house, hugging the cliff, a small gathering of trees had sprung up, and a garden was laid out beneath them. The well stood off to one side, also near the trees, and Ezra could just make out the white shirted shape of a ten year old boy drawing up the bucket. A cave had also been widened and deepened where it sat on the cliff face, to be used as an ice house.
The house itself faced south, and looked over a series of fenced in grasslands and pastures where the Goldmans kept their horses and cattle. A large well kept barn stood about a couple hundred yards away in that direction, and a smaller shed like structure sat to its left. On the other side, a hen house was visible, surrounded by high chicken wire to keep the coyotes out. All in all, it was a very peaceful scene.
The little boy turned around and immediately saw the riders on the hill. He squinted a little, then yelled in delight as he recognized the red jacket. Both men heard his voice distinctly as he screamed: "Mama, Mama! Ezra’s here! Ezra’s come to visit!"
Chris smiled at Ezra, "Well, Ezra, you are nothing if not distinctive in those clothes."
The gambler shrugged, a crooked smile on his face. "Simply a matter of good taste, Mr. Larabee."
As the two men steered their horses down the hill, Hans Goldman stepped out and into the yard so that he could watch the two men approach. Both noticed the rifle he held loosely in his hands.
"Something I can do for you, gentlemen?" Hans nodded at them, his German clip giving the words a caustic feel. Hans was a large man, close to 6’4", with a shock of blond hair sticking up above an extremely ruddy complexion. Dark brown eyes watched the men warily.
"Actually," Chris said, leaning on his saddle horn, "we were wondering if we could talk to you for a few moments. There’s been some trouble up at the Reed ranch, and we just want to know if you may know anything about it."
"Nope." Hans didn’t relax his stance. Inside, the sound of the two boys arguing with their mother were clearly heard.
"Mr. Goldman," Ezra soothed, "The Reeds and your neighbors, the Aifs, have both been forced from their properties. Now, we do not appreciate people threatening our friends, friends such as yourself, and we need information if we hope to help them."
Hans frowned, but he still shook his head.
"Damn it, Hans. If anyone has tried to run you off, we can help you," Chris tried, going for the direct approach. Ezra sent him a look of warning, afraid that he might have spoken too fast. He was pleasantly surprised when Hans sighed and dropped the rifle to his side. The large German in front of them nodded, running his free hand through his coarse hair.
"I’m sorry. You are correct, yah, we are being threatened." He looked back at the house. "I suppose you’d best come inside." Behind him, excited squeals were heard, and the two young boys ran out of the house, followed by a relieved looking Beatta Goldman. In seconds, the children were at Chaucer’s legs, chatting up at Ezra. Chris resisted smiling, knowing it would only embarrass the younger man. Swiftly, the two lawmen men dismounted, Chris following Hans and Beatta back into the house, and Ezra kneeling down to promise Manfred and Charles that he would visit with them later. Now, however, he had to follow his boss into the house and talk to their father.
"About the bad men?" Manfred Goldman asked, his seven year old frame shivering at the memory. Ten year old Charles cuffed him on the back of the head, telling his little brother not to be so silly. Ezra furrowed his brow.
"Charles, your brother is correct. We’ve come to try and help your parents deal with the bad men. I guarantee, this is not something silly. More importantly, if those men come back, I’ll need you both to look after each other, okay? No matter what happens, you two find a good hiding place and stay there. Now, do I have your word?" Ezra didn’t blink as he switched his gaze from one child to the other and back again. Manfred swallowed, and stood up straighter.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Ezra. You have our word."
"Manny and I are good hiders, Mr. Ezra. We won’t let you down," Charles reiterated, grabbing his younger brother in a fierce hug, then letting go. Ezra smiled, and solemnly shook both boys' hands.
"Well then, it is always a joy to work with such honorable gentlemen as yourselves. Now, I really must speak with your father. I’ll come and see you before I leave, alright?"
Both boys grinned widely and nodded. Beatta came out then to tell the boys to hurry or their food would get cold. With a little sibling jostling, the boys spun around and ran up the porch into the warm farmhouse, Ezra on their heels. Mrs. Goldman ushered the boys into the kitchen to eat, then, with one more glance back at Chris and Hans in the parlour, she followed her sons.
Ezra wandered into the cozy room, and drew up a chair to the table where the other two men already sat. Pulling off his dust covered hat, he placed it one a nearby chair and ran tired fingers through his black hair.
Hans leaned back, exhaling deeply. "Where do I begin?" he wondered aloud. When Chris and Ezra didn’t answer, Hans licked his lips and decided to get down to business.
"Two days ago, three men rode up to the house and handed me this." He pulled out a paper from his jacket pocket and passed it to the gunslinger. Chris frowned, and passed it to Ezra. It was an eviction notice identical to that they had found at the Aifs. Hans continued, "They told us to be gone by Sunday, or they would remove us by force. I think the exact words were, ‘we’ll bury you.’ But I am not going to give this place up without a fight. Three men are not going to scare my family from land that is ours."
At that moment, Beatta entered the room carrying a tray with a teapot and cups. She smiled as she passed around the delicate china.
Chris accepted the tea with a nod, and spoke to their host. "Hans, I am afraid that it is not only three men that you will have to worry about. When we arrived, we mentioned the Reeds. Do you know of them?"
Hans frowned, but nodded. Ezra smiled up at Beatta as she poured his tea. "Danke schoen, Beatta," he said politely.
"Bitte, Mr. Standish."
Chris looked at his tea, then brought the cup to his lips before continuing. "We believe the Reeds were also ordered to leave their property. When they refused, this Marcus Allen sent close to twenty men, mainly outlaws, to take them out. They destroyed the house, burnt down the barn, and the family was badly hurt."
Beatta’s hands shook a little as she poured the tea for her husband, the only sign that she was listening to the conversation. Hans stared at the cup in front of him for a few moments before responding.
"This is my land. I bought it fairly from the man before me. They can not just take it," he stated, his voice quiet. It sounded as though he were trying to convince himself as much as the two lawmen. "And I plan to fight for it."
"Mr. Goldman," Ezra interrupted, then waited a moment until Hans looked up to meet the gambler’s green eyes. "As I understand it, you have been here ten years now, correct?"
Hans nodded, "Yes, we arrived a few months before Charles was born."
Ezra sipped his tea. "And the man who lived here before you, do you know how long he had possession?"
Hans shook his head. "No, I think that, maybe, he was here for a few years. But, I do know that there must also have been someone before him. That barn in back is at least twenty years old."
"And am I also to understand that, when you bought this land, it was simply a handshake deal. You were not given a title to the property."
Hans looked confused, "Title?"
"A land deed, Mr. Goldman. A piece of paper that states the boundaries and other qualities of the property. It states ownership."
"No, no," Hans said, shaking his head. "This land, all this land, was, I was told, not owned by anyone. People could take what they wanted, and declare ownership by just being here. In ten years, no one has bothered us. I just don’t understand what that piece of paper," he gestured to the eviction notice, his motions betraying his agitation, "means. How can someone own this land when I have been here so long?"
"Mr. Goldman," Ezra placated, "I believe that this land is yours. Furthermore, with a little bit of research, I am certain we can show that the law is on your side. Indeed, even if this Marcus Allen has color of title, you have been on this land long enough to establish, tacking on the people before you, that you have adverse possession."
"Tacking people? Adverse possession…." Hans repeated, his eyes showing his confusion. "I am afraid I do not know what that means. What does that mean come Sunday?"
Chris raised his eyebrows at Ezra, allowing him to take the lead. Ezra frowned, his eyes meeting Chris’s. Sighing, the gambler looked back at the German, his expression dark.
"Well, unfortunately, I do not think that we can establish your legal rights quite that quickly. And, if you truly desire to retain your hold on this place…."
"Yes," Hans declared, catching his wife’s eyes. Beatta nodded where she now stood off to one side, her jaw firm.
"Then we will make certain that you keep it." Now Ezra looked to Chris for confirmation of the next move. Chris smirked, his eyes alive with determination.
"We will protect you," the black clad gunslinger said. "On
Saturday, you will take your family into
Hans shook his head, "No, this is my land. I will protect it too."
"Mr. Goldman, please. We have already seen what these men can do. I promise, Mr. Larabee and I will protect your homestead. You must be there to ensure the continued safety of your family."
Hans opened his mouth to protest again, but Chris cut him off by standing abruptly. "This is not open to discussion, Hans. Pack up enough things for a few days stay, and drive into town early. As soon as you arrive, we will ride out here."
Beatta came forward and placed a calming hand on her husband’s shoulder. "Hans," she whispered, her German accent much thicker than her husbands, "trust them." Hans placed a large callused hand over her smaller one, and sat in that position for a few moments. Eventually, he looked up at Chris, his dark brown eyes set.
"Alright, Mr. Larabee. We will trust you."
"Gut!" Beatta said. "Now, we were about to eat. Join us, yes?"
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About an hour later, with the sun now below the horizon, the two lawmen bid farewell to the Goldmans. The two young boys were extremely disappointed when Chris turned down their parents offer to stay the night, and held onto Ezra’s hands as if it would be the last time they would see him. The gambler merely laughed, picking up both children as if they were weightless and spinning around with a boy under each arm.
Chris shook Hans’ hand, and tipped his hat to Beatta before mounting up. He barked an order at Ezra, who dropped the boys, much to their annoyance.
"Now remember your promise to me," the gambler whispered to them, and both boys nodded seriously. Turning, Ezra kissed Beatta’s hand, and bowed to Hans before mounting up beside his leader.
"We will see you Saturday," Chris declared, then spurred his mount away from the homestead and up the hill. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Ezra was following. After about ten minutes of silence, Chris slowed his horse to a slow trot and looked at the gambler in the twilight. Ezra looked back, his face passive.
"Are we planning on riding back to town in the dark, Mr. Larabee?"
Chris nodded, "Yup. Thought you might want to get started on that research you talked about."
Ezra inclined his head once.
Chris rested one hand on the pouch at his belt, which contained the Aif’s eviction notice, his face falling into a deep frown. "Ezra," he began, "what about these notices. You said that they were not in themselves necessarily illegal."
Ezra did not respond immediately, mulling over his words. When he spoke, Chris noticed there was a slightly uncertain tone in the voice of the usually self-assured gambler. "What I meant is, if Mr. Allen is a wealthy man, then there is a possibility that he may own more than just land; he might own some very influential people as well. That Sheriff Clark, the surveyor, may have been bought. If so, it would have been very easy to have him forge title documents, and then create an order of eviction based on such documents. The notice is legal until it is proved the titles are fake."
"Is that what you meant about not knowing if the law was on our side?"
Ezra nodded. "As I said, Mr. Larabee, the law out here is not established as of yet. It can be manipulated, as well as the people who wield it. We do not yet know how wealthy this Mr. Allen is, but the Sheriff may not be the only member of our respected governmental order who may be under his sway."
Chris nodded, then smiled. "Well, I know one Circuit Judge who will not be on his payroll."
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"Orrin Travis! Well met, monsieur!" Marcus Allen declared, his arms open wide to greet the Judge as he descended the stage in front of Allen’s large mansion. Allen was a stout gentleman of French parentage, standing no more than 5 feet 2 inches tall. Judge Travis, himself not a tall man, easily towered over the smaller landowner as he took the proffered handshake.
"Marcus, it is good to see you," Travis returned. "And from the looks of it you have been busy. The Square M looks amazing. Riding up, I wasn’t sure where the town ended and your property began! How many acres have you under your purview now?"
"Ah, mon vieil ami, you honor me with your words. But you know as well as I that it is not the size of the holding that matters, but how well it is put to use. And in that respect, I must admit to having some small skill in crafting gold out of lead." He grinned, bowing. Judge Travis laughed.
"And some small ego to go along with it, eh Marcus?"
The stout landowner laughed as well, clapping a hand to the judge’s back. "It really is good to see you, my good friend, it has been far too long. Come inside, I have your dinner all prepared. After, we can talk of old times and you can tell me a little of what you have been a witness to these past few years." Travis nodded, a great smile on his usually stoic face. His smile fell a little as he saw the large number of guards hovering just outside his vision. Marcus followed his gaze.
"Oh, please do not worry, Monsieur. As I expanded, I found it necessary to hire on some extra protection. This land is still greatly untamed, which I am sure you know, and there are thieves everywhere. In fact, it is related to that untamed aspect that I called you here. I am having some trouble with some squatter’s, and I need your advice. But, that is a discussion for later. Please, come inside. You will see that I have managed to bring civilization into the middle of nowhere. And I promise you will not be disappointed." He bowed again, and gestured for Travis to move ahead of him.
In response, Travis nodded his head in assent, the smile still on his face, though not as wide as before. Pleased, Marcus Allen bounced up the steps of his palatial home, following just behind the Judge.
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