Diamonds and Beans

Author: Tipper

Disclaimer: I don't own the M7 characters, and I am not using them for profit. They were created by John Watson, Pen Densham, and all the other writers and producers, and are owned by the Mirisch Corporation and MGM Studios, Inc.

Parts: Nineteen

Spoilers: A whole bunch. Sorry

Acknowledgements: Huge thank you to Heather F. for reading this first and sorting it out.

Note: There are a large number of real people and places in this, for some bizarre reason. I've always put Four Corners in New Mexico, down south somewhere, not far from El Paso, Texas (which, as some may know, was Paso del Norte for a long time – the same name as was originally thought to be used for the town we all named Four Corners). The time period I've always vaguely imagined was 1876, mainly because I wanted to write Explosions, my civil war story. But, that time doesn't really make sense, since JD talks about Bat Masterson, who doesn't really make a name for himself until later, but then, the "Ghosts of the Confederacy" in the beginning suggest a time closer to the war and....aw hell. It's just a story. Hope you like it.

Description: A hundred thousand dollars in diamonds have been stolen, and an innocent man blamed. Why do mere rocks bring out the worst in people? Nathan and Ezra (and an OMC) predominantly.

Red Diamonds relate to footnotes

PAGE ONE (parts 1-12) PAGE TWO (parts 12-19)

Completed July 5, 2002

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Part One

Chris looked up as Nathan came bounding down from the clinic to catch up with the stagecoach. When it came to a stop in front of the hotel, the healer was panting and grinning, jumping from foot to foot like a child. Leaning on a post, Chris crossed his arms and watched, curious despite himself.

"Uncle Nate!"

"Jackie!"

A boy jumped out of the carriage and into Nathan's arms, the healer swinging him around several times before drawing him in close for a long hug. Behind the boy, a tall black man with a neatly shaved head and a thick black moustache stepped out of the coach and watched the greeting with a smile. Still holding onto the ten year old child in his arms, Nathan grinned brightly at the newcomer.

"Bean, old friend, my God it's good to see you!"

"Hey Doc! You gonna drop my son so that I can greet you proper?" Bean grinned ear to ear and held his hands out. Putting Jackie down, Nathan hugged his old friend, patting his back ferociously so that it lifted off some of the road dust. In the background, some of the other passengers were getting their luggage down, and little Jack wandered over to take their things when the coachman handed them down.

"You look well," Bean said, pulling back to look Nathan up and down. "You're even thickening around the middle a touch, huh?" He patted Nathan's stomach, and the healer grimaced.

"Pot calling the kettle..." Nathan began, only to be interrupted by a sharp yelp from Bean's son. Behind them, the coachman laughed heartily at the sight of Jackie on his butt held down by a large suitcase. Jack was frowning deeply now, his face dark with embarrassment.

"Jackie!" Bean chastised, turning around and picking the boy and suitcase up in one swing, depositing the ten year old on his feet. Brushing himself off, the boy tried to pretend he had meant to do that.

"How long are you staying?" Nathan, moving forward to take a second suitcase from the still chuckling coachman and rubbing Jack's head as he did so.

"Not sure," Bean answered, his smile fading. His voice lowered, "Look, Nate, did you...did you get my telegram?"

Nathan nodded, his own smiled fading, "Yeah, this morning. Don't give a man much warning, Bean, do you?"

In response, Bean shook his head and sighed heavily.

"Well, I haven't had much time. Listen, those letters you sent, about being part of the law here, they true?"

"Yeah. Why, what's going on?" Nathan held the suitcase close and watched as Jack moved to look into the window of Mrs. Potter's mercantile.

"Not here," Bean looked across at Chris with a suspicious expression, not liking the way the gunslinger was watching them. "There somewhere we can talk?"

Nathan followed his friend's gaze and shook his head, "That's Chris Larabee, Bean. I wrote about him, remember?"

Bean swallowed and nodded, his dark eyes betraying his nervousness, "Yeah, sure. But I'd still feel better if...."

"No problem. Come on, I'll show you my clinic." The healer walked away with his friend on his hells, and Bean called back to Jack for him to catch up. The boy skipped along behind as they headed to the far end of town.

At the same time that they disappeared into the clinic's doors, a group of about five riders entered town from the same direction as the coach, covered in dust and looking very tired. They instantly split up, not hiding the fact that they were looking for someone. Two rode straight for the coach, where the coachman was getting ready to leave again.

Chris stood up and rested one hand on his gun, watching them intently. Whistling once, he caught Vin's eyes where the tracker was sitting in front of the saloon talking to Buck and Josiah.

Moments later, the five strangers who were casing the town had four men casing them.

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Part Two

Bean lifted the curtains up from Nathan's one window, his eyes trailing the men down below. Jack was sitting on Nathan's bed, playing with the healer's stethoscope, whispering things into the end and giggling at how loud they sounded in his ears. Nathan busied himself making a pot of hot water for coffee.

"They've been following us since our train hit Pena Blanca on the way down here," Bean said. "They think I had something to do with some kind of jewel heist."

"They're Rangers?"

"No, they're not even lawmen. I'm not really sure who they are, but, a day after we left the junction, I saw them, riding along to catch up to the train Jackie and I were on. When they did catch up, they told the conductor that they were a posse sent to find a jewel thief, and then they pointed to me. Until that time, I had never seen or even heard of them before, or knew that anything had been stolen. I mean, we were on our way to see a rancher about a cattle job and the next thing I know, they had me and Jack locked in the caboose."

"Easy thing, picking on a black man," Nathan muttered.

Bean nodded, "Yeah, that's what I thought too at first." He waved a hand at Nathan's skeptical look, "Wait 'til you hear the rest."

"So what happened? You break out?" Nathan was sitting now, leaning forward on his knees, waiting for the water to boil on the tiny stove.

"No." When Nathan looked confused, Bean frowned and shook his head. "Oh sure I know, because of who I am, that the most'd believe those white folks over me, but I at least hoped that, maybe, if I could talk to a real lawman, that maybe I could make some sense of this. All I knew for those first few hours was that jewels were missing, and those men were accusing me, but I didn't know why. I heard them say that the jewels were stolen in some town named Low Ridge, but me and Jackie'd never been there. So, I waited, doing whatever I could to stop Jack from crying," he shrugged. "Fact is, I didn't want to be on the run again, and I really didn't want to take Jackie with me."

Nathan nodded, knowing all too well. "So, then what? How'd you get out?"

"Well, the next thing I know, the train is stopped and me and Jackie are hauled out of the caboose and down some hillside. It was night, so I couldn't tell you where, and behind us, the train starts moving again without us. Jackie was crying and I was sure they were going to kill us." Bean shivered slightly, an odd thing to see such a large man do. "But, at the bottom, near some river or other, they held Jackie down and started asking me where the jewels were. Where the diamonds were. I didn't know how to answer. I just kept saying that they had the wrong man, but I don't think they wanted to hear that. Finally, one of them said to let us go, that maybe I was telling the truth."

Nathan was frowning deeply now, getting up only to take the screaming kettle off of the stove. "And they did?"

"Yeah. But they've been following me ever since. I'm guessing they think I'll lead 'em to wherever the jewels are."

The healer snorted, "So they must really believe you stole 'em."

"Yeah."

"And you came here?"

"I needed help, Nathan, and I knew this town weren't too far from the end of the southern rail line. They're going to get fed up with me soon, since I have no idea what they want and, with Jackie here, I can't just disappear or lead them home to Georgina...." He sighed heavily and looked over at where his son was watching him intently.

There was a serious undertone to Jackie that you rarely saw in children. Though Nathan had known the look in many of the children he'd grown up with on the plantation, Jack had never been a slave, being both too young and born of a northern man. Bean was one of the few union soldiers Nathan had met in the war. They'd kept in touch when both moved west afterwards, even sharing some of the trip together, so that Nathan could help some with Bean's newly pregnant wife Georgina. Jack had been born somewhere in Missouri, and had been Nathan's first birth. It was a moment he would never forget. Looking at the boy now, ten years later, he was amazed at how much the boy looked like his mother.

"Does Georgina know what's happening?"

"No. I was afraid of them finding out about her, even if she is all the way up in Cheyenne. But she'll be worried that I haven't written in so long, especially as I took Jack with me this time."

"Daddy said I was old enough to train as a cowboy, and mommy finally agreed," the boy added quietly. Bean gave him a small smile, and Jackie looked back down at the stethoscope in his hands.

"He can't take much more of this runnin' and hidin', doc. Neither can I. Do you think you can help?"

Nathan grimaced, then nodded. "Let me talk to my friends; try to find some things out. I can already tell that they're watching the five guys following you. We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise you."

Bean smiled, and his shoulders, heretofore betraying his stress, slumped a little.

"Nathan...thank you."

Standing, Nathan pointed to the kettle, "You want some coffee, it's in the green canister there, on the shelf behind the kettle. There are some biscuits in the red jar – just plain sugar ones." He looked back at where Bean had stood up to walk over to the kettle, smiling as the man had to bend over to avoid banging his head on the low ceiling. Nathan shook his head, "Listen, don't leave this room, even to stick your head out. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Bean just nodded, lifting up the kettle using the tea-towel, and trying to look confident. After Nathan shut the door behind him, however, Bean put the kettle back down and moved over to sit on the bed next to Jack. The boy let out a soft sob as Bean pulled him in close and hugged him tightly, whispering to the boy that it would all be all right now.

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Part Three

Vin, JD and Josiah continued to watch over the five strangers as they nursed beers in the saloon. They looked restless, and were also aware now that they were being watched. Meanwhile, up in the clinic, Ezra had been given the job of entertaining Jackie in Nathan's little side room while Chris and Nathan tried to get some more details out of Bean.

The tall man was sighing heavily, rubbing a thin, bony hand across his face. "Like I said, they stopped the train somewhere outside of Pena Blanca, before it reached Domingo and headed east. Maybe ten, fifteen miles or so from the station. All I know is, I was on my way over to a job I'd signed up for at Fort Sumner, running the Chisum trail. I've done it a few times, while Georgina – that's my wife – stays home up in Wyoming, with all the other trail wives. Honestly, that's about it for my story, as you put it, Mr. Larabee." ♦

"Doesn't explain why they signaled him out, does it?" Chris noted, looking over at Nathan. The healer shrugged.

"Well, I was the only black man in the carriage," Bean said, rubbing the stubble on his head. Chris couldn't avoid pursing his lips at the news, and Nathan's eyes flashed.

"That'd do it," the healer agreed darkly. "Not hard to blame folks like us for things like stealing, specially with all the crap that's gone down since the war."

At that moment, two things happened at once. A loud peal of laughter erupted from the side room, followed by several squeals of glee and a chastising southern voice, and, at the door, someone knocked loudly.

"Who's there?" Nathan called, walking up to the door while Bean stood and walked to the side room. Looking in, the tall black man raised an eyebrow as he saw Ezra threatening his son with a pitcher of cold water. The gambler was half soaked down one side, and was doing an impressive job of sloshing even more on himself as he pretended to chase the little boy around the tiny room. Jack was having too much fun to notice his father's subdued presence in the doorway.

Meanwhile, Nathan had let in Mary and Buck, the two smiling amicably at the tall newcomer as he turned around to watch them find places to sit.

The healer then moved around them to ask Ezra in the other room to be more quiet, putting a finger to his lips and making a shushing noise. As he reentered the main room, he stopped and frowned. Behind him, Ezra and Jackie were both making fun of him by mocking his words and shushing each other. The healer rolled his eyes as he sat, and Bean smiled, happy to see his friend so well established that he could be mocked like that.

Chris leaned forward to look at Mary and Buck, "So, have you two found out anything?" he asked.

"Finding out about the jewel heist wasn't hard," Mary said, unfolding a piece of newspaper. "The day you passed through Pena Blanca, Mr. Bean, a cache of diamonds recently arrived from Antwerp were stolen in the town of Low Ridge. They are reportedly worth close to a hundred thousand dollars in value."

Buck whistled, and Ezra turned his ear to the doorway. Jackie stopped playing, seeing the gambler's distraction.

Mary glanced up at Bean, "They are also saying one of the thieves was a black man, tall, with a shaved head."

Bean frowned, rubbing at his scalp. Chris reached out for the paper, which she gave him.

Mary looked down at her hands as she continued, "Apparently, the thief and his accomplices were tracked to the train junction in Pena Blanca, and it was assumed they were on your train. The diamonds' owners – a Mister Carstairs and his wife, Ruth – have offered a large reward for their finding. My guess is, Mr. Bean, that those men that you have brought here are only looking for the reward. If you do not have the diamonds, then perhaps you should tell them of this."

"Like they'd believe me? They didn't before, Mrs. Travis."

Mary shrugged. "In that case, I guess you'll just have to stay here until the real thieves are caught."

Bean sighed, and shook his head. "I can't afford to do that, Mrs. Travis. I got a job waiting for me well northeast of here, on the other side of Lincoln, and if I don't get there by the 12th, they'll find someone else. I need that money, ma'am."

Mary sighed, "The 12th? But that's only a couple of weeks from now."

"What if we found you another job?" Buck asked. "I know a few ranchers that run the Chisum. I'm sure they could use...."

"I worked hard to develop the steady employment I have with Mr. Chambers. I don't think he'd take very kindly to me working for someone else."

"But surely, in these circumstances...." Mary tried.

"I especially don't want him to know about these circumstances," Bean said quickly. "Even if I were exonerated, ma'am, this stuff follows you."

"It certainly does," Ezra's voice said from the doorway, his voice thick with experience. Jackie was leaning on the gambler's dry leg, watching and listening. The boy had that serious look again that made Nathan so uneasy. The healer stood, about to chastise Ezra for letting the boy hear everything. He stopped when he saw the determined look on the gambler's face.

"I think, however, Mr. Bean, that Mrs. Travis has a valid point. I would suggest you stay here for as long as you are able," Ezra continued.

"But what if the thieves aren't caught in time?" Bean asked.

Nathan turned and smiled at him, "They will be. Because we'll find them."

Chris arched an eyebrow at the healer, then looked at Buck. The ladies man shrugged.

"How?" Bean asked. When Nathan looked about to argue, he shook his head. "No, I mean, there must be a good number of folks looking for those thieves. Why do you think you'll find 'em and others won't."

"For one thing," Ezra said, smiling, "We won't be looking for the thieves.... We'll be looking for the diamonds. Isn't that right, Mr. Larabee?." There was enough greed in the tone to cause Chris to give him a warning stare. The gambler merely smirked in return. After a moment, the gunslinger nodded, not disputing the statement though he disliked the way it had been delivered.

"As much as I hate to say it, Ezra there has the right of it, Mr. Bean," Chris said, turning his attention back to the large man. "You were the only black man on the train, so, that must mean the thieves weren't on the train, or the description was false. If it's the former, then it stands to reason the thieves are still around up there somewhere, and we might be able to track them by where they might go to sell the jewels. And if it's the latter...."

"Then there is something more wrong here," Buck finished.

"Either way, looks like we're heading north, up the line," Chris said, standing. "Ezra, go ask Vin about laying a false trail for our guests to follow; we'll fool them into thinking that Bean's gone a different route." Ezra tipped his hat at Chris, and went to the door. The gunslinger looked back at Mary, "Mary, could you...."

"With respect to Mrs. Travis and Mr. Standish, I'd like to come," Bean interrupted, standing. Ezra stopped at the door, surprised, and stayed to listen.

"No," Chris shook his head, "too dangerous." Bean frowned.

"I was a soldier in the war, Mr. Larabee. I can fight."

"Not the point," Chris stated. "You'll just get in the way." The words were brutal and Nathan stood up next to Bean, his eyes darkening as he looked at Chris. The gunslinger just stared back at the healer, guilelessly.

"I want to see that my name is cleared," Bean insisted. "Can't do that hiding here."

"But...what about your son?" Mary looked at the little boy, who had walked forward to stand next to his father. "Surely you don't mean to take him with you...."

"Can you watch him for a few days, ma'am?" Bean asked, turning to her. "I can send for him once this is over." Jack's face got very tight. He shook his head and gripped his father's pant leg.

"Well...yes, I could, but...."

"No," Chris shook his head. "If the men tracking Bean come back here, I don't want them using the boy to get at his father."

"He could stay out at Nettie's," Buck suggested.

"Who?" Bean looked at Nathan.

"Oh, you'll like her," the healer nodded. "Don't worry, he'll be as safe as houses."

Chris looked at Nathan, then at Bean, his frown darkening. "I can't stop you, but...." He shook his head, "Fine. Do what you want."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Larabee," Bean smiled. "Appreciate it." Jackie grimaced, and continued to tug on his father's pant leg, clearly not happy.

The gunslinger shrugged, and looked back at Mary. "Could you look in those files of yours; see what you can find out about the Carstairs? And about that town they live in."

Mary nodded, standing and moving to leave. Ezra opened the door for her, and bowed slightly as she reached it.

"Oh, and Mary?" Chris called, turning her around, "Any information you have about diamonds, about buying or selling them, or the names of famous diamond people, and so on...." he trailed off. Mary smiled and nodded, then disappeared, Ezra shutting the door behind them.

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Part Four

A little over a day later, they were riding the train north. Ezra was playing cards with some gentlemen in the first class cabin, while the rest hung out with the crowds in the regular cabins.

"How long before we get to Pena Blanca?" JD asked, leaning his head against the window. The trip already felt interminable, and it had only been a day. Looking over at Vin, who was staring out his own window with a look of anguish at having been trapped inside this car for too long, he was happy to see he wasn't alone.

Buck shrugged, "We should be there by tonight." Looking a JD's unhappy face, he reached over and smacked him on the arm. "Come on, kid. It ain't that bad. Remember last time we headed up this way, over a year and a half ago, to Tower Junction with the Lady Marshal? Took us nearly three days of hard riding. We're making the same trip, and its cut by more n' half now."

"Yippee," JD replied, not hiding his sarcasm. He'd rather be on his horse.

Vin shifted again in his crampt seat, and looked about ready to crawl out the window and make a jump for it. If the window were wider than ten inches square, he might have succeeded too.

Buck sighed and looked forward to where the first class cabin would be if he could see through the walls of the train. He sneered, "How does that scoundrel do it? He bought the same kind of ticket as us."

"Actually, he bought a cheaper one – standing room," Josiah said, smiling as he looked up from the book he was reading in his seat across the way. "Boy has a real gift."

"Yeah well, wish he'd learn to share a little," Buck groused.

Josiah smiled some more and leaned back. At that same moment, the devil himself walked back into their cabin, an odd smile on his face. Buck scrutinized him as Ezra sat himself down opposite Chris and Vin.

"You get kicked out?" the ladies' man asked. Ezra grinned, and shook his head. Then he leaned forward to talk to Chris.

"I learned some more about the jewels that were stolen," the gambler said quietly. "The gentlemen I have been playing with up there are acquainted with the Carstairs, the alleged victims. Apparently, no one ever actually saw these amazing gems besides the owners, and a manager of the local bank. The bank manager authenticated the diamonds for the insurance company, but that was all. They were stolen within a week of their arrival, before their existence was even made public."

Chris frowned, "So, then, only those involved could know that they were here to be stolen."

"Or they never actually existed. It could be an insurance scam," Ezra suggested.

"You really do have a dark way of thinking, don't you," Nathan said, sitting next to the gambler.

Ezra shrugged, his eyes never leaving Chris's.

The gunslinger sighed, leaning back and looking up. Then he nodded. "All right, two possibilities then. Ezra, why don't you and...Josiah...ingratiate yourselves with the Carstairs and that bank manager somehow. Check them out. The rest of us will find out who knew what about these diamonds and anything else interesting about the week they were stolen."

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Part Five

Almost exactly 24 hours later, Josiah and Ezra, dressed like eastern financiers, walked into the saloon in Pena Blanca. Ezra was frowning, while Josiah simply looked...well, like he always looks.

JD glanced at Ezra from where he was dealing cards to Nathan. The healer never even looked up. Bean was upstairs, nervously waiting for news in their hotel rooms.

"Mind if we join your game, gentlemen?" Ezra asked, his accent flatter than a pancake. In fact, JD had to repress a grin at the drawn out vowels – it was a fair representation of a Boston accent. The kid nodded, and dealt out two more hands.

Nathan glanced at Josiah.

"So?" he asked quietly.

"They seem honest," the preacher shrugged, also keeping his voice low. "Ezra thinks their hiding something, but I couldn't see it."

"Well...I don't really know," Ezra conceded. "I have that itch in the back of my mind that tells me something is not quite right somewhere, but I can't seem to figure out what it is." After a moment, he threw his cards down and shook his head. "Fold."

"We haven't bet yet," Nathan said, looking up. He was surprised. Ezra rarely looked this ill at ease. The gambler was shaking his head.

"No, sorry. Just hate the feeling that I'm missing something. We met the bank manager, and I couldn't see a single lie anywhere in his demeanor. The Carstairs also seemed genuinely sad that their diamonds were stolen, suggesting again that they were real. I was so sure there was a scam but now...I simply don't know." Standing, he tipped his bowler hat, a sour expression on his face. "I'm going to order something a little harder from the bar," he informed them and walked away. Nathan looked at Josiah. The preacher shrugged.

"Like I said, they seemed honest. But if they're bugging Ezra, then I'm guessing there is something wrong with them. He'll figure it out." He placed his cards down and JD quickly swooped them up. As Ezra reached the bar, he tipped his hat at Chris, Buck and Vin who entered the saloon at almost the same time.

The three men moved to join JD, Josiah and Nathan at the table.

"Boys," the gunslinger greeted, as JD started dealing him cards.

"What's the story?"

Chris smirked, "Finish dealing the cards first."

"You know something," JD said, his eyes bright in the lamplight.

"Turns out," Buck said, leaning forward, clearly not as cautious as his old friend, "the Carstairs estranged son, Samuel, was here the same week the diamonds were stolen, visiting his parents."

"Town gossips can't stop talking about it," Vin nodded, looking up as Ezra returned with a bottle of single malt and a collection of shot glasses. "Son's got something of a reputation."

"What is this about a son?" Ezra asked, sitting down next to Josiah and handing out the glasses.

"Apparently, Samuel Carstairs is their black sheep. He's a financial gambler, investing in risky ventures and building up enormous debts, mostly with his parents money," Buck explained. "His latest was a winery, but bad management caused it to falter before it even got started. Sold it at rock bottom prices to a young Italian family down in Corrales."

"Corrales?" Josiah tilted his head. "They've just rebuilt the church there. I know the pastor."

"Really?" Buck looked at the preacher. "Because, from all accounts, that's still Samuel Carstairs' home, though he's supposedly facing eviction and maybe even jail time for his debts."

"Of course," Ezra nodded, catching on, "I get it. I see what they were hiding now. Of course!" He brightened, looking around at the others. Chris, Vin and Buck were nodding, already well ahead of the game.

"The diamonds are real," he said, looking at them for confirmation, "and they were stolen. The problem is, the Carstairs won't admit who did the stealing: their own son. The fact is too humiliating, and it might cause problems cashing in on the insurance. And so, they made up the description that unwittingly trapped Nathan's friend. They're covering for their boy."

"Better some faceless bystander than face the humiliation of having your name dragged through the mud," Buck sneered. Nathan shook his head, and placed a hand to his forehead, feeling sorry for his luckless friend.

"Well," Chris said, "this tells us who, and, from the sounds of it, why, but the next question is, where will he go with them?"

"He'd have to hide for a while," Ezra said, pouring himself another glass. "But it's been almost two weeks since the theft now," frosty green eyes looked up at the men around him, "he'll be rearing his ugly little head any day now."

"Where?" JD asked.

"North," Ezra said. "Along the Denver & Rio Grande's line. It's bringing in money and new people at every stop, and it would be easy to parcel out the diamonds anywhere along it and get back home quickly."

"What about South?" JD asked.

"That's the direction of home for him, where the Carstairs' themselves have probably sent some men to look for their son. He won't head that way," Buck said.

"He might," Josiah shrugged. "Or he might have someone there he is in contact with. At the very least, he'll probably end up there after he sells them. When it's too late for his family to do anything about it. Might be worthwhile to stake out the town, just in case."

"You said you knew the pastor there?" Chris repeated. Josiah nodded.

"Okay, but what if he heads east or west?" JD looked around the table.

"There's nothing west of here. Certainly nowhere where they'd have the money or desire to buy diamonds, kid," Vin said, his voice speaking with authority.

"And east?"

"Rail line out there is too young," Ezra shook his head. "You'd have to travel quite a distance before hitting a place of any consequence. And the area is not exactly..." he smiled, "safe for a gentleman burdened with such a bounty."

"But he still could try it," Chris said, looking at his nails. "There's some money out there."

"Merely a handful of cattle ranchers," Ezra said, shaking his head with distaste. "No...he went north." As he said the words, he looked up, his pupils reflecting the lamplight like mirrors. The greedy look was back on his face, avarice visible in every pore. "Shouldn't take long to catch up with him, and get back our diamonds," he grinned. The gold tooth flashed.

Never a good sign.

Chris shifted upwards in his chair, "All right. Josiah, you head to Corrales. Keep your ears open. You'll also be our contact – check the telegraph office there as often as you can." He looked at the tracker, "Vin, you, me, JD and Buck will head north, up the line."

Ezra's lips parted slightly, not missing the omission, and he straightened in his chair.

"Ezra," Chris turned to him, his face blank as paper, "you, Nathan and Bean will head east along the rail line."

"What?" the gambler hissed.

"Ezra, I'm not arguing this. Someone needs to look in that direction."

The gambler just stared at him, eyes wide. After a moment, he looked at the others, noting they were all purposefully avoiding his gaze.

"Again," he hissed, his tone bristling with anger and hurt. "Again you do this to me."

"Ezra," Buck tried, "Chris is right, someone...."

"You know full well that he did not head in that direction," the gambler interrupted, still staring daggers at the black-clad gunslinger. "You're sending me away, even though you know that I'm probably the best one to track those diamonds down. You think I'm after them for myself."

Chris met the gaze without blinking.

"Someone needs to check east," he replied softly.

"C'mon, Ez, don't be like this...," Buck smiled, reaching over to touch Ezra's arm.

The gambler jerked from the touch and stood, his chair falling backwards with a clatter. Grabbing the bottle around the neck, he wished for once he was lowborn enough to be able to spit on the table. Instead, he simply glared at them and spun around, striding angrily towards the doors.

Silence blanketed the table with his departure. A place of calm inside the busy saloon, like the eye of a storm. For that one table, time stood still as the rest of the world buzzed and swirled around them.

Chris kept his gaze fixed on Ezra's empty spot.

Vin scrutinized Chris.

Josiah steepled his fingers and stared at them.

Nathan leaned his head on his hand and played with the loose cards on the table.

JD watched the still swinging batwing doors.

Buck downed the rest of his shot, and wiped a hand across his mouth.

A serving wench stopped, balanced her tray on one hand, and balletically got down and lifted Ezra's chair back to its upright position, pushing it back towards the table. She never even looked at the men at the table, simply did her job and waded back into the crowds.

It broke the moment.

"You expect me to watch after them both, is that right?" the healer asked, lifting his chin from his hand and picking up the half-dealt cards with the other. "That's you're real thinking, ain't it. You're sending us that way so Bean will be safe, and Ezra away from temptation...."

Buck snorted, "Good luck keeping him away from temptation."

"You still don't trust Ezra," Vin said, gray eyes staring Chris down. The phrase was more a statement than a question.

"Not about money," Chris replied, shrugging as if this were obvious. "Not this much. He almost ran out on us because of it, remember? And for a lot less than a hundred thousand dollars...."

"He also turned around," Vin noted obstinately. "Saved Mary's life and nearly died in the process."

"Only because he ran into Stutz in the crowd," Chris met the gaze without blinking. "If he hadn't, he would have been on a horse halfway out of town when Stutz first fired, and Mary would be dead." He still had a finger of single malt in his glass, and he swirled it around.

"Maybe," Vin said, slowly, not totally disagreeing. "But he's not the same man. Not by a mile. It's been over a year, Chris...."

"It's a hundred thousand dollars worth of diamonds, Vin," Buck said softly. The ladies' man loved Ezra -- he was one of his best friends – but he knew as well as any of them how hard it was to give up something you loved, and the gambler loved money. "I'm not Ezra, and even I'd probably think twice about just running if I got my hands on that much...." He looked over at Josiah, surprised to see the preacher meeting his eyes with understanding. Vin just snorted.

Chris continued to watch the amber liquid swirl around.

"He's not going to do anything with us around," Vin muttered. For some reason, he was reminded of the time when Josiah was accused by that Poplar man, and Chris seemed to give the man free rein to attack their friend. Why did it seem like he was the only one to stick up for the others when they were together like this?

"Vin..." Chris drawled the name slowly, bringing the tracker's eyes up again.

"What," Vin spat back.

"Someone needs to follow the line east."

"Bullcrap," Vin spat, standing and grabbing his hat off the table. "But I ain't arguing with you no more. Just don't expect this not to come back to bite ya." Without nodding to the others, he walked out of the saloon, headed God knows where.

Chris sighed and finished the single malt in one gulp.

"Better get some rest, boys. Gonna be a long day tomorrow."

No one said a word as the gunslinger picked up his own hat and ghosted out of the saloon, disappearing into the black of night.

___________________________

Part Six

Ezra never said a word as they rode eastwards. They had to wait half a day before the first train headed out that way, and it was almost completely back with men like Bean – cowboys headed out for a cattle run. Sweaty, dusty, ugly men surrounded them, choking them.

Trains ran up and down the north-south line all the time. Vin, Buck, Chris and JD had caught one close to dawn heading north, while Josiah grabbed one headed south not more than an hour later.

He'd been right. No one went east. Sam Cartstairs did not head east. There were no diamonds in the east.

That bastard Larabee.

Ezra drank for most of the morning, even tippling half his flask into the coffee Nathan had gotten him. Bean grimaced, sensing something was wrong. He hoped Nathan and Ezra weren't taking him on a wild goose chase just to keep him away from any real danger. Seeing the gambler's despondency, though, he was pretty sure they had.

Nathan sighed. Ezra was half drunk, and Bean had been given him the angry looks of a man betrayed ever since they boarded the train.

"Where do we stop first?" Nathan asked, looking at Ezra. The gambler shrugged.

"You looking for a job, boy?" an older man asked, leaning over Nathan's seat. He was about forty five, with salt and pepper hair and skin like old leather. The healer looked up, surprised.

"What?"

"I asked if you was looking for a job? Cause, if you don't, I've lost a couple of dustcatchers to a brawl back in Albuquerque. I'm a trailboss for Jinglebob. Can you ride a horse?"

"Uh...," Nathan looked at Ezra, and found that the gambler was now watching him, the first glimmer of amusement on his face since the night before. "Yeah, maybe," Nathan looked back up at the trailboss. "Where?"

"We get off at Anton Chico, head south. Chisum ranch is about thirty miles south of Fort Sumner. Interested?"

"Um, can you use my friend here as well?" Nathan pointed at Ezra, and the gambler sat up a little straighter. He opened his mouth to protest, but the trailboss was quicker.

"Him? Please, he look about as useful as a bad penny. Don't want no gamblers on my ride, anyway, too bad an influence....No offense, tinhorn." The trailboss tipped his hat at Ezra. The gambler actually gave a half smile.

"Uh, none taken, good sir. In fact, I rather take that as a compliment." Ezra's cultured southern drawl had the trailboss laughing.

"How long to Anton Chico, exactly?" Nathan asked him.

"About five hours. Then it's a day and a bit down to Fort Sumner. So, that mean you're interested?"

"Ah, no, but thank you," Nathan smiled. "I actually have a job."

The trailboss grimaced, wondering if he'd somehow just been made a fool of.

"Well, whatever. What about your friend there?" the trailboss pointed to Bean.

"Um, actually, I already work for Mr. Chambers, sir," Bean said, deferentially.

"Chambers?" the trailboss grinned. "He's my ranchboss, boy! We both work for old Jinglebob. You run the trail before?"

"Yessir, a few times."

"Well, good. Guess I'll see you out there."

"Yessir."

The trailboss tipped his hat, then looked up as he heard a little too much revelry and some breaking glass from somewhere further down the carriage. With a frown, he pushed through bodies, yelling at his "men" to quiet down.

"Trying to get me a job, Nathan?" Ezra asked, leaning back and staring at the healer with bloodshot eyes.

"Never hurts to have a back-up profession, Ezra, in case you get tired of all the tarrin' and featherin'."

"Ho ho ho," Ezra mocked, waving a hand dismissively at his friend. "I'll remember your kindness next time someone goes after you for pulling out the wrong tooth."

"Hey," Nathan pouted indignantly, "that only happened once!"

"Oh, yeah, but it was a great once. I can still remember him chasing you down the street, that bandage wrapped around his head, mumbling threats at you in his laudanum induced haze. Mr. Conklin never forgave you that one, did he?"

"Well...he did sort of deserve it," Nathan replied, his indignation slipping into a mischievous smile.

Ezra started laughing, and Nathan joined in.

Bean watched them both with a curious air. It was a truly odd relationship they had. As muddied and changeable as the summer weather in his old home of Massachusetts.

He smiled as he thought that. It was one of the things he missed least about that old state.

_________________________________

Part Seven

The train pulled into its first stop about two and a half hours in, and Nathan peered out the window to read the sign over the station.

"It says Jefferies town," he said, "looks small."

"Excuse me sir," Ezra tapped the leg of one of the less rowdy looking cowhands, "Can you tell me how many stops there are between here and Anton Chico?"

"Erm," the cowboy scratched at his face, "No, 'fraid I never really noticed. Hey, Payton," he grabbed another man's coat, turning a younger man around.

"Yeah?"

"How many stops between here and Chico?"

"Um...two, I think. There's...lessee...Patterson and, oh yeah, Ugly."

"Ugly?" Ezra smiled, "there's a town called Ugly?" He looked at Nathan, who returned the smile.

"Yeah, though I hear they're thinking of changing it, now that the rail stops there. Don't know what they'll change it to," Payton nodded.

"Oh probably some pantsy-assed name like Sweetwater or Waterbury," the first cowboy snorted.

"Why, is there water nearby?" Nathan asked.

"Hell, are you kiddin?" Payton laughed, "Don't need no water to call something Watertown, or Clearwater. Just need folks who sweat alot, which, out here, everyone does," he laughed, and his friend clapped him hard on the shoulder, laughing with him. Ezra gave a crooked smile and raised his eyebrows. JD would get along fine with these boys.

"Well Nathan, what do you think?" he asked, leaning forward.

"About what?"

"Well, I've been thinking...."

"Never a good sign," the healer quipped instantly. It was practically a reflex these days. Bean smiled in the background.

"As I was saying," Ezra noted sourly, eyes locked on the healer's, "I've been wondering about this man we're chasing. Perhaps he is clever than we gave him credit for."

"Meaning?"

"I still believe it more likely that he went north, but look at this train. You couldn't find a man who wanted to stay hidden in here even if he was wearing a clown wig and a red nose." Ezra leaned forward, "and there is money out here. Chisum may control the Pecos river valley, but he is not the only rancher in the area. I've heard a great deal about the money coming in from England and Scotland to fund cattle companies all through this area. Charles Goodnight, over at the edge of the panhandle, is backed almost entirely by them; an Englishman named Tunstall has established himself down near Chisum, with an allegedly "honest" lawyer named McSween; and further east and north new money from Europe arrives all the time. And with what happened in '73, and the trouble I've read is brewing in Lincoln, I'm sure there are a number of ranchers looking to invest in something a little more secure than just cash and cattle, and diamonds never lose value."

Bean had leaned forward to listen to this whispered exchange, his mind whirring with all the information leaking out of the gambler. How did he know all this?

Nathan was less impressed. He knew Ezra devoured every piece of reading material that came into Four Corners, including the copies of any newspapers that Mary received, which included papers from all over the territories and into Texas and California.

"So what are you saying?"

"Well, if the Carstairs boy were a smart man, he might set up a meeting in one of these towns, or one not too far away, to sell those stones to a rancher or a ranchboss acting as an agent, as they moved along the trail. And he'd be right to think that no one would expect him to come out this way," Ezra arched an eyebrow, and Nathan shrugged.

"Sure, maybe."

Bean listened, then frowned. "Now wait a minute here, does this mean that, before, you didn't think the thief came this way?" He'd secretly hoping that he'd been wrong that Nathan had betrayed him.

Nathan stiffened, then blushed. Ezra simply gave Bean a plain look.

"No, Mr. Bean. We did not. You and I were sent out here in order to keep us out of trouble."

Bean's lips parted, and he turned to glare at Nathan. The healer had his head bowed to his chest.

"Nathan?"

"Someone still had to check east," Nathan said softly, repeating Chris's excuse.

"And, for all that I too was somewhat upset at first, perhaps it won't be in vain," Ezra looked out at the ramshackle depot.

In the background, the whistle blew, indicating the train was getting ready to pull out from the station.

"Well, come along, gentlemen," Ezra stood up, grabbing his hat from his lap and placing it on his head. "We'd best get off."

"What for?" Nathan looked up.

"We'll make inquiries in this town, after the gentleman we're seeking, then rent horses and move onto the next one."

"What if he's behind us?" Nathan said, furrowing his brow.

"Then one of us will remain behind for a couple of days in each town, just in case."

"And if he stays on past Anton Chico?" Bean asked.

"I don't think he'll go that far from home," Ezra replied. "I could be wrong, but I think he'll stay within the territory."

"How can you be sure?"

Ezra just shrugged and smiled, "I can't."

________________________________

Part Eight

After they found horses, Bean stayed behind in Jefferies Town, looking a bit put out at being left in such a tiny place. Ezra stopped in Patterson, deciding he liked the look of the saloons, and Nathan moved on to Ugly.

As he rode into the junction, he looked over as the night train followed him in, a cacophony of metallic squeals, shrieks and heavy sighs. In the time that it had taken him to ride this far by horse from Jefferies, another train had come down the tracks from Domingo, bringing a fresh set of trailhands looking for a fun place to spend the night. It was almost seven at night, and, unless Carstairs was on this train, or Nathan found news of him in town, he realized somewhat unhappily that he might have to find a place to stay as well. The thought made him very depressed.

Ugly lived up to its name.

It was a fairly large town, and dangerous. Cowboys, ranch hands and head hunters crammed the bars and saloons, rubbing elbows with gunslingers, gamblers, prostitutes and a handful of enterprising merchantmen. No homesteaders. Any that came here would have been burnt out or frightened into running. Law had not yet come to this town, which was probably part of why they were planning on changing its name. It meant the merchants were trying to incorporate it, so they could get Federal money and, more importantly, Federal law. Ugly reminded Nathan of Four Corners before the seven had arrived, though much larger. Half the windows in town had boards over them -- cheaper than constantly replacing the glass.

Chills ran up and down the healer's spine as he rode slowly through the main street, looking for the telegraph office. He didn't particularly want to make inquiries on his own, and hated the fact that he now wished Ezra were here. It felt like he needed a master to keep him safe.

He shut his eyes momentarily. Don't think like that.

Never think like that again.

He opened his eyes and sat a little straighter in the saddle.

Still...some backup would have been nice.

"You looking for a job, boy?" someone yelled from the front of one of the saloons. He smiled and shook his head.

"Got one, thank you, sir," he replied politely.

"Need a good night's rest honey?" a black woman called from the balcony of a brothel. Again, Nathan shook his head, and thanked her politely, calling her ma'am.

Polite. Always be polite.

He pulled up in front of the telegraph office and dismounted, keeping his head down as a group of vaqueros eyed him from the front of the bath house next door. One spit at his feet as he stepped up onto the boardwalk, and he took a deep breath to stop himself from reacting. Without looking at them again, he walked into the office.

The operator looked up. He was an older man, with sad eyes.

"Yes?" he asked, looking Nathan up and down.

"Good afternoon, sir. I'd like to see if any telegrams have been sent to me here?"

The operator scowled, not hiding his skepticism that anyone might be looking for Nathan.

"Wass yer name, sonny," he asked with a heavy sigh, standing up to check the recent messages.

"Nathan Jackson."

The operator's face actually became puzzled, and he looked up. "Really?"

The healer gave a half smile, "Yessir."

"Oh, well then, guess you're in luck,." The operator continued to look half puzzled as he pulled out a yellow piece of paper. He looked at it, then at Nathan. His eyes narrowed.

"You got proof of who you are?"

Nathan frowned, "like what?"

"I dunno...work orders, maybe, with yer name on it, or something? A letter addressed to you? That kind of thing."

"Do you normally ask for proof, sir?"

"Well...no...not normally. But...."

"Then you don't need it now."

"No," the operator shrugged, "guess I don't." He held onto the slip a little longer, and eyes Nathan curiously, "Kin you read, sonny?"

"Yes," Nathan held his hand out. The old man's eyebrows shot up, surprised yet again, then he sighed and handed the slip over.

"It came in about an hour ago. About six o'clock."

"Thank you." Tipping his hat to the man, Nathan walked back out of the office and walked towards a nearby post that had a lantern hanging from it. Lifting it up so that the light was on it, he quickly read the note. It was from Ezra.

"Nathan Jackson. Ugly Town. SC came in on night train. Met him briefly and established identity. Asked me directions to Creeksville. Town north of here. Am following. Meet me there. Will also send message to Bean in Jefferies and Josiah in Corrales. EPS."

With a grim smile, Nathan bunched the note in his fist. With a shake of his head, he took his horse's reins and walked the horse back to the brothel.

The woman who had invited him before saw him coming and quickly came down to meet him.

"Changed your mind, handsome?" she asked, leaning over a post to show off an impressive amount of cleavage. Swallowing, Nathan blushed and averted his eyes.

"Ah, no, not exactly, but I will pay for some directions."

She tilted her head, black ringlets cascading off her head. "How much?"

"Two bits."

She pursed her red painted lips, and looked at him again. "That all?"

"It's all I got."

Her eyes narrowed, not believing him. His clothes were better than that, as was the horse he was riding. Still, he had a sweet face.

"All right, sugar, where you want to go?"

"Creeksville?"

She frowned. "You sure? That's the wrong direction if you're looking for work."

"Not what I'm looking for, ma'am. Do you know the town?"

She continued to frown, "Sure. Town northwest of here. Small and quiet. Ain't nothing there but some homesteaders, mostly old soldiers, a few ranchers and church folk. But that place ain't for you, sugar."

"Still, that's where I'd like to go," Nathan insisted. "Please, ma'am."

She lowered her eyes, fake eyelashes batting. "Okay, if that's what you want. Take the road heading north. There'll be a fork about a couple miles out. Follow the western road. About ten miles after that, there will be another fork. Head directly west, following the creek you'll see for about a league. Lead you straight there. Town is named after that creek."

Nathan grinned, and pulled out a Quarter. Handing it to her, he held his hand over hers for a moment, "Thank you, ma'am."

She smiled back, showing a couple of missing teeth. "Sure you don't want to spend the night, honey? I'd offer a discount for ya," she leaned forward again. Nathan blushed an even deeper shade of red.

"No, but thank you, ma'am, but I have to go make sure a friend stays out of trouble."

She nodded, and he let go her hand. As he turned back to his mount, she tapped his shoulder.

"Just you be careful too, sugar," she whispered. "They're not too fond of our kind up there, you know what I mean? Them old soldiers...they didn't wear the union blue, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Nathan thanked her with a nod of his head, his smile fading to a grimace, "I know what you mean."

Mounting, he tipped his hat, then walked his horse swiftly out of town.

The prostitute's smile faded, and she lowered her eyes again. The nice ones never stayed.

"Hey, Midnight, you free?" a cowboy asked, leaning on the post next to her.

She turned to him, the smile plastered again on her face. "Sure, peaches. What's your pleasure?"

_________________________________

Part Nine

Ezra, bone tired and sticky from riding, rode slowly into Creeksville close to eleven. Only one saloon was still open, and to describe its atmosphere as subdued would be an understatement. The hotel, which looked a bit like it had seen better days, was dark as a tomb. The gambler considered banging on the door and demanding a room, but then thought against it. Carstairs was likely asleep in one of those rooms, and he didn't want to make it too obvious that he'd followed him.

Carstairs had been remarkably easy to find. Almost ridiculously so.

When the night train had rolled into Patterson at about six, Ezra had walked back to the depot to watch the people who got off. As with the train he'd been riding earlier that day, the vast majority of passengers were cowboys and ranch hands, pouring out of the tightly packed cars like a milkweed releasing its seeds. They swirled and eddied around the gambler like a great sea of brown and tan in the fading light, and the smell wasn't too pleasing either.

That's why Carstairs had stuck out. He was the only white thing in a collage of browns, blacks and reds.

He was one of the last emerge, and he stood on the step for a moment, sniffing with disdain at the crowds around him, like a Russian count forced to associate with his serfs.

Almost white blonde hair was matted to his head in a tightly kept style – oiled – and he wore no hat. In fact, he probably never wore a hat. His hooked nose was burnt red and flaking, and his eyes were shadowed by the aged tan that darkened his brow and cheekbones. Pockmarks were visible all over his face, suggesting either a youth plagued by terrible acne or a terrible case of the chicken pox. Either way, the pale skinned, high cheek boned face was not one that Ezra would call handsome. Pale blue eyes surveyed the town as he self-consciously pulled down the ivory sleeves of his jacket over his white silk shirt. As he adjusted a mustard yellow cravat, those watery blue eyes had locked on Ezra.

The gambler straightened.

Carstairs smiled. Like Ezra, the diamond thief was a gambler, albeit a poor one, and, like all of his ilk, was attracted to other gamblers like a bear to honey.

"Gentle sir!" Carstairs called out, stepping off the train step and, after shifting his carpetbag to his left hand, walked towards Ezra with his right hand outstretched. "Sir, well met."

Ezra looked at the white gloved hand, then took it tentatively. "Do I know you sir?" he asked, trying to appear puzzled.

"Oh, no," Carstairs shook his head. "I merely liked the look of you. Something human among all these...people."

Ezra arched his eyebrow, seeing the ugly looks a few of the cowboys gave them who had overheard.

"In any case, I was hoping you could help me," Carstairs continued. "Do you, perchance, know when the next stage leaves for Creeksville? I was told it was sometime in the early evening, but, being new here, I don't even know from where in this town it might depart."

"Ah, no," Ezra shook his head, taking his hand back. "My apologies, but I too am new to this fair burg, having arrived only this afternoon. However, I know where you might ask. I have become acquainted with several of the more auspicious saloons since arriving."

"Yes, I would imagine you might have," Carstairs nodded.

"If you would come with me, Mr....er...."

"Er…Carson. My name is Carson." The lie was weak, and Ezra had to stop himself from laughing. Samuel Carstairs was no confidence man. Instead, Ezra simply held his hand out again.

"Ezra Simpson. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

That meeting had been nearly five hours earlier, and, in that time, Carstairs had found his stage and left town. Ezra had quickly telegrammed Nathan, Bean and Josiah, and, after gathering his rented mare and purchasing a small lantern, had the unenviable task of following the coach by himself, in the dark.

Now, here at last, he was not hiding his dismay at how small the place was. Creeksville was depressing to a fault, an impression that had not been aided by the old bill he'd seen posted to one of the trees near the edge of town, dated about two months earlier:

NOTICE!

TO THIEVES, THUGS, FAKIRS,

AND BUNKO-SEEKERS,

Among Whom Are

J.J. Harlin, alias "the Wheeler," Saw Dust Charlie, Wm. Hughes, Billy the Kid, Billy Mullin, Little Jack, The Cuter, Pock-Marked Kid, and about TWENTY others:

If found within the Limits of this City after Ten O'Clock P.M. this Night, you will be invited to attend a GRAND NECK-TIE PARTY.

The expenses of which will be borne by

100 Substantial Citizens. ♦

It was enough to make a normal gambler turn around and find someplace else to spent the night.

But, then again, there were the diamonds.

Perked up slightly by the thought, Ezra considered what to do next as he drifted into the single saloon and politely asked if there were any rooms. Moments later, he handed over the few dimes the barkeep required, and ordered a whiskey to take upstairs with him.

And then someone said his name.

“Ezra?”

The gambler frowned, afraid for a moment that it was Carstairs, and looked to his right. Then he smiled.

“Noah?”

“It is you!” the boy said, standing up straight from where he’d been leaning somewhat morosely on the bar. He was young, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, with an easy smile and wavy brown hair. Brown eyes sparkled, and he reached out a roughened hand. Ezra gave his easily.

“How are you?” Noah asked, taking Ezra’s hands in his and pumping it up and down. “How’s your mother?”

“Maude? Well, about the same. As for myself, well enough. Set down a few tentative roots somewhere, you may be interested to know, as you once suggested I do.”

“Really? Where?”

“Town well south of here, called Four Corners. Believe it or not, I’ve found myself in the strange position of being a member of the law down there.”

Noah didn’t laugh, instead, he smiled knowingly. “Yeah, I believe it. After what you did for me and Jane….I think that makes a whole lotta sense.”

Ezra gave a quick bemused grin, “Really?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Spencer. Sure thing.” Noah nodded enthusiastically, and Ezra shrugged. Odd. He still had trouble believing it himself, yet this kid he’d once known up in Wyoming – not long before which meeting he’d been arrested for fraud, something the kid knew – had no trouble with the idea. Definitely odd. He took a drink of his whiskey.

“So,” he said, leaning on the bar, “What about you? How is Jane?”

Noah’s face dropped, and he lowered his head. As he was shorter than Ezra, about the same height as JD, it meant that the gambler lost all sight of his face.

“She’s, hell, she’s not doing so well, Ezra. We lost our baby to the winter, and it’s made her awful sick. And I’ve had to leave her, to come down here to see if I can’t pick up some extra work riding a trail, since our homestead hasn’t been doing so well either.”

The gambler nodded, understanding. He didn’t really need to see the kid’s face to know what he was thinking. Noah didn’t really want to be down here; he wanted to be home in Colorado, but he needed the money. As the boy knew how to ride – one of the fastest out there, considering his former profession as a Pony Express rider when he was younger – it’d probably not be that hard for him to find work.

Ezra’s eyes narrowed, and he glanced back out the doors behind him. A thought niggled into his thoughts, and, when he looked back at Noah, still looking sadly down at the bar, a small smile spread across his face.

“Noah, I might have a job for you.”

________________________________

Part Ten

"Nathan! Ho! Wait up!"

The healer looked up from where he'd been listlessly watching the wind blow down the long grass to his right, the brown field colored gold by the sunrise. A dark line of trees bordered it, hiding any more view of the north. Turning in the saddle, he raised a hand to cover his eyes as he looked more southerly. Coming in at an angle form the southwest, a rider was galloping across the plains, one hand waving at him. He had to squint a little to see who it was, though the voice had already somewhat tipped him off.

"That you, Bean?" he called back, lifting his chin slightly.

"Yep!" the former soldier galloped closer, only slowing down his horse at the last minute with a hard wrench to the reins. The rented mare snorted and shook her head, unhappy at the poor treatment, but Bean was grinning.

"Couldn't believe it when your Ezra sent that telegram. We're actually gonna get this guy! Clear my name. Can't believe how easy this was! I was tempted to ride all night, but I didn't want to twist my horse's ankle. I see you thought the same?"

"Yup," Nathan yawned into his hand. "Only got back on the trail maybe an hour ago," he wiped a hand across one eye still heavy with sleep. "You seen any signs to this town yet?"

Bean laughed and pointed to Nathan's right. There, where some wood platforms had been placed down to offer a crossing place over the creek Nathan had been following, was a wooden sign loosely attached to a tall post.

Welcome to

Creeksville

No Gambling, No Gunfighting

by order of

Sheriff Mitt Taney

"That's a sign, all right," Nathan shook his head. "Wonder if Ezra saw it? He must have loved that."

"Well, we'll soon find out," Bean grinned, turning his horse to cross the shallow bridge.

A little over ten minutes later, they were riding slowly down a quite main street. Bean was still smiling, looking around with the air of someone about to solve all his problems. Nathan had the look of a man who's problems were about to start. For the most part, people ignored them, but the healer was not unaware of some of the dark looks they were given. He didn't know if they were because both he and Bean were wearing guns, or because they were black.

Probably both.

The town was small, and very pretty. It had three saloons, one of which was closed "for renovations," three restaurants, a hotel, a pristine white church, and the other usual shops and offices. Tall, soft looking trees circled the whole place, giving it a hidden feeling and keeping it at a much cooler temperature than the towns near the railroad. It was even clean. Every window had glass in it.

They pulled up in front of a saloon called the Blue Note, and Nathan instructed Bean to check in there while he checked the bar across the street. A few moments later, the healer was walking into his bar and looked around at the still, almost slumberous, main room. A couple of men were playing pool in the back; they ignored the healer. No one else was visible, not even the barkeep.

Walking up to the bar, Nathan leaned over it to see if anyone was behind, then looked around.

"Excuse me? Anyone here?"

"Yep, hold on. Be there in a minute," a voice drawled from the back. It was an accent like Ezra's, southern blended with a little too much time in the west.

Nathan listened as some glasses clinked, then he watched as a rather rotund man walked out from the back room, an apron tied around his thick waist. The smile on the round face faded upon seeing Nathan, and the tea towel he had been wiping his hands on got thrown over his shoulder in an annoyed air.

"'Fraid we don't serve darkies here, boy. You'll have to across the street."

"Ah, yes sir, I will when I mean to get a drink. However, what I actually came in here for is information. I'm looking for a friend of mine. A southern gentleman, wearing a red coat? Probably came in late last night?"

The barkeep shook his head. "No, I'm not helping with no revenge seeking neither. Best you get along now."

"It's, uh, it's not revenge sir. He really is a friend of mine."

"A southerner, you say? I find that hard to believe." The eyes were narrowed.

"Yessir. Uh, look, if he's not here, perhaps he might have left a note for me? My name is Nathan Jackson."

The barkeep shook his head again. "No notes. Weren't even open last night past ten o'clock. Blue Note was though. Maybe they'll help you, if they're of a mind. Ain't nothing for you here."

Nathan fought to keep his smile. "Well, thank you sir, for your help."

"Sure," the barkeep turned away, waving a hand once more towards the door, indicating once again that Nathan should leave. The healer kept his smile as he backed out, not breathing again until he was out in the open air and looking up at the sunshine. He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the warmth cleanse him.

When he opened them again, he saw Bean walking out of the Blue Note, smiling still and holding up a piece of paper. The healer quickly strode across the street to meet him on the boardwalk. Clearly, Bean had had more luck.

"Your Ezra was here, and he left us a note," Bean said, the smile fading somewhat. "Guess we missed him."

Nathan unfolded the piece of paper and quickly read the scrawled message.

Nathan, Mr. Bean,

It is barely five in the morning; the sun still hasn't made an appearance and yet SC has just ridden out of town. He rented a horse, and has headed north. I would have missed him, but I had someone watch for him for me. My guess is, he has gone to meet the buyer or buyers. I will do my best to stop him on my own before the odds become too great, but please try and join me as soon as you can.

Ezra

"Damn," Nathan folded the note and put it in his pocket. "C'mon, he couldn't have gotten too far."

"Can I help you boys with anything?" a deep voice drawled from behind them. Nathan and Bean both turned slowly, neither missing the silver badge pinned to the man's broad chest.

Sheriff Taney was tall, with a broad face, a flat nose, and what could only be described as beady eyes. They were brown...maybe. It was difficult to tell behind all the wrinkles and fat. Bean quickly plastered on a smile.

"No sir, thank you though. We were just leaving, sir."

Nathan had to fight not to physically cringe. Is that what he sounded like when he was being 'polite?' God, it was horrible.

"Well, good," the sheriff nodded. "We don't want no trouble, you understand."

"Yes sir," Bean nodded, "we understand. Thank you for asking."

Nathan felt like he was going to be sick. To hide it, he quickly tipped his hat to the sheriff then stepped off the boardwalk to reach his horse. He could feel the man's eyes' boring holes in his back as he untied his rented mare's reins. Bean just kept smiling for the both of them, and imitated Nathan's actions.

As soon as they were mounted, Bean tipped his hat once more at the sheriff, who nodded back, then quickly the lead riding out of town. Nathan fell behind, keeping the clipped but steady pace.

He only slowed once, and that was too admire the last house they passed on the way out. It was white, with a wrap around porch, and a handsome sign that hung from a post out front:

Dr. St. John Martins

Family Doctor

The twang of jealousy sat in the healer's chest for only a moment, before he sighed and then kicked his mare into a lope in order to catch up with his friend.

______________________________________

Part Eleven

The road leading north away from Creeksville was, like the town, lined with trees. The ground was less dry, and had begun to rise and fall in soft hills. Clearings and fields became more common than plains and grasslands, and the sounds of the wind blowing through leaves replaced that of wind blowing down dry grass. It made the air lighter.

Bean’s smile faded as the time went by, as he picked up on the tension radiating off his old friend. Nathan seemed to become more and more tense with every yard they covered, his eyes constantly roving the trees and fields for any signs of a red coat. For over an hour, they’d not said one word to each other, which made Bean uneasy. Soon, the atmosphere had become so thick, the former soldier was sweating from the weight.

Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Nathan?”

The healer sighed, and unclenched his jaw with a click, “yeah?”

“What’s the matter?”

The healer snorted, “What’s not?”

“Huh?”

Nathan shook his head, “We’ve been riding for near two hours, Bean. Other than a few scattered homesteads, we ain’t seen nothing but trees and dirt. We’re surrounded by nothing and no one.”

Bean’s brow furrowed, “so?”

“So where are they, huh? Where the hell could Carstairs meet anyone out here? There aren’t even landmarks. More likely, he didn’t head this way at all. He maybe headed east or west out of town, or even south. They left two hours before us, and could have walked past where either of us were camped without us even knowing.” He grimaced.

“But,” Bean frowned, “Your Ezra wrote….”

“He’s not ‘my’ Ezra, Bean. He’s just Ezra,” the healer snapped, “and how the hell do we know if he told us the truth, huh?”

The former soldier just stared at his old friend, surprised. “I don’t understand. Why would Ezra -- your friend, I thought -- why would he lie to us? To you?”

Nathan’s jaw clicked close again, not answering. All he could think of was Ezra with his hands on those diamonds, his gold tooth reflecting the light as he grinned that avaricious smile of his. What if the gambler had gotten his hands on them in Creeksville the night before? He could have written that note, sending him and Bean on a wild goose chase, while that southern bastard rode hell bent for leather in the opposite direction. This was over a hundred thousand dollars in diamonds, for Christ’s sake, more money than Ezra could ever have dreamed of. A hell of a lot more than ten thousand….

A hundred thousand dollars in diamonds.

He was fooling himself thinking Ezra could ever have resisted that much money.

Damn, damn, damn.

He could just picture those slim, white hands gripping the small cache to his chest, green eyes glistening with greed, pushing his rented horse to ride away, far, far away, leaving all his alleged friends behind to twist in the wind….

“Nathan?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t trust him, do you.”

“No.” It was blunt.

Bean lowered his head. All his jubilance from the morning washed away with that one word.

Suddenly, Nathan pulled hard on his reins, bringing his horse to a halt. “This is pointless. We should turn around and….” He stopped talking, and stood up a little in the saddle.

His mare moved around, her ears twitching. Bean stopped as well, and looked around.

He heard it too.

Hooves.

Someone was galloping through the woods, fast.

Kicking his mount, Nathan moved forward along the road, eyes wide open and scanning.

Bean turned his horse around and rode back a few paces.

“There!” the former soldier yelled, pointing back towards Creeksville. Nathan wheeled around, just in time to see Ezra burst out of the trees in a field to their left. The gambler had his head bowed low, intent only on urging his mount to greater speed as they careened across the field towards the road.

“Ezra!” Nathan yelled, then again, “EZRA!” He kicked his mount down the road, and Bean followed. “Ezra!” he tried again.

If the gambler heard over the sound of his racing horse, he gave no sign, simply jumped over the bank that marked the side of the road, bringing the horse down hard onto the dirt track, and racing to jump him over the bank on the other side, to enter into another field. He had to wrench back on the reins harshly as Nathan’s horse suddenly got in the way, and he turned his poor mare in a vicious circle, trying to stop her from colliding with Bean’s horse on the other side.

His face which a moment before had registered something akin to terror, suddenly burst into a grin.

“There you are! Finally!” he cheered, laughing. Then he looked behind him at the field he’d just left. “Come on, we have to ride! Carstairs and his buyers' flunkeys are after me.”

“You got the diamonds?” Nathan gasped, amazed.

“Of course!” Still wheeling his agitated horse around in circles, the gambler once more looked behind him for pursuers, then shouted “Ha!” and kicked his mount back into a gallop. He raced her down the road for a bit, until she got up to speed again, then he turned her to the left so that she could jump over the low bank into the field.

Shaking their heads, Bean and Nathan followed, their horses quickly getting into the spirit of the race.

__________________________

Ezra slowed when they reached a clearing near a brook, where he finally decided it was safe enough to let his lathered horse get some rest. Dismounting, he let her reins hang loose and looked around as both Bean and Nathan followed suit, watching as all three mares wandered over to the water. The horses were simply too exhausted to do more than drink.

"So what happened?" the healer asked, looking over as the gambler started patting the dust off his red jacket. "Who is after you?" He hadn't seen anyone chasing them, something which made his already heavy doubt fester into something even uglier.

"Oh," Ezra shook his head, "that was my idiocy." He took off his hat to brush a hand through his thick hair. "I followed Mr. Carstairs to a small homestead somewhere west of here. It was deserted and fairly sheltered. An ideal place, I would say, for the unlawful transaction that I imagine he had planned." He smiled, "but it was also perfect for a robbery." The smile grew impish, and he put his hat back on. "I simply walked into the room behind him, weapon drawn, and demanded the diamonds and his guns. Not knowing what I was capable of, he had no choice but to hand them over. I thought I was being fairly clever when I made my escape, as I also ran off his horse so he couldn't chase me."

"I take it you were wrong," Nathan said coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. Ezra shrugged, his smile fading.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid my timing left something to be desired. As it turned out, Mr. Carstairs' buyers took almost that exact same moment to arrive. I couldn't have gone more than a hundred yards before I heard Carstairs yelling at them to chase me, which, of course, they did...." he sighed and looked behind him at the woods they'd just emerged from, then turned back to Nathan, grinning again. "I think, however, that we have lost the pursuers for the moment. I haven't seen hide or hair of them since I saw you."

Nathan arched an eyebrow, looking over at the quiet woods.

"Huh, imagine that," he muttered sarcastically. Ezra's smile fell, not missing the tone.

"What is that supposed that mean?" he asked, tucking his thumbs into his belt and frowning up at the healer.

The healer looked back at the gambler, his eyes almost black in the tree shadowed clearing, and held out his hand.

"You best give me the diamonds to keep, Ezra."

Ezra just looked at him, not moving. Nathan's expression was making him increasingly uneasy.

"Why?" he asked finally.

"Why? Because...well, what if we get separated?"

The gambler's eyes narrowed, "Why would we get separated?"

"If your so-called pursuers show up, they might split us up," Nathan shrugged. He still had his hand out.

"Did you say, 'so-called' pursuers? Is there something I am missing here, Mr. Jackson?" He turned to look at Bean as if for answers, but the former soldier had his head down, trying to stay as much out of this as possible. He had moved to sit on a boulder next to the small brook, and was watching the water.

"No," Nathan replied, not taking his eyes off of the gambler. "I'm just thinking it might be best if I hold on to them, is all."

"Because the diamonds would be safer with you, is that it?" Ezra returned his attention to him.

"Yes."

"I'm still not clear as to why that is, Mr. Jackson. Even if we were separated, why...."

"Just give me the diamonds Ezra," Nathan interrupted, his jaw clenching.

Ezra simply stared at him, not moving.

"Give them to me!" Nathan demanded.

Ezra stepped back, surprised at the near shout, and raised his chin, "No."

"This is not a request, Ezra. Give them to me, now."

Ezra's eyes flashed, "And I believe I quite clearly told you no."

"Bean...search his bags."

The former soldier looked up, sad eyes looking at his old friend and at the gambler. Ezra was standing hipshot, thumbs tucked in his gunbelt, his brow furrowed in total confusion as he stared up at the healer with his mouth open. Nathan stared down at him, hands crossed over his chest, his face as hard as old leather.

"Nathan, is this really necessary?" Bean asked softly.

"There aren't any pursuers, Bean," Nathan told him coldly. "He's made them up. He was galloping so as to get away from us, not Carstairs."

Ezra's eyes widened, "That's absurd! If I were trying to avoid you, why in the world was I going towards the road I sent you on as opposed to away from it?"

Nathan shrugged, "Seems to me you were just crossing it."

"I'd been going back and forth across that damn road since they started chasing me!" Ezra hissed. "It was my fifth time crossing it! I was trying to run into you, you idiot! You think it was just luck that you saw me when you did?"

"Sure, why not? Bad luck for you, though."

"Oh for...Are you even listening to yourself, Mr. Jackson?"

"Search his bags, Bean."

"Nathan...." the former soldier again tried to argue, standing.

"Do it!" Nathan finally spared a glance for his old friend, and Bean actually backed up a bit at the ferocity of the gaze.

"He won't find them," Ezra said, still staring at Nathan's eyes, searching them for the friend he knew was there somewhere. "And we don't have time to for him or you to figure that out. We need to get moving again soon."

"Yeah, right." Nathan shook his head, and turned to watch as Bean walked slowly over to Ezra's mare and lifted off the saddlebags.

"Nathan, please, can it at least wait until we're safely away from here?"

"No."

Ezra swallowed thickly, then turned his head away.

After a few minutes of searching, Bean lifted his head and shook it. "They're not here, Nate."

The healer frowned, "check the bedroll and the saddle."

"Damn it, Nathan!" Ezra's face was red, "He won't find them! I don't have them anymore!"

"Oh, really?"

"No. They're not on that blasted horse. Nor are they on me. Look," he took off his jacket, showing Nathan his sleeves. Then, quickly, he started unbuttoning his waistcoat. Opening it, he opened his arms, palms up. "See? Do you believe me now? Now can we get out of here?"

The healer looked over at Bean, who was unrolling the bedroll. After a moment, the former soldier looked over at Nathan and shook his head.

"Where are they, then?" the healer demanded, as Ezra started rebuttoning his waistcoat. The gambler looked up, his eyes stinging with the betrayal.

"Safe."

"Where?"

"Let's get away from here first, and I'll tell you," he said hoarsely.

"You'll tell me now."

Ezra stared at him, then shook his head. "No, I don't think I will."

"We're not leaving until you tell me."

"Go to hell," the gambler spat, turning away and putting his coat back on. Nathan grabbed his arm viciously, spinning him back around to face him. Ezra responding instinctively by slamming a fist into the side of Nathan's jaw, throwing the larger man back a few steps.

"Don't you dare touch me again!" Ezra yelled, pointing at Nathan where he was still bent from the ferocity of the hit. The healer rubbed his jaw with one hand, and stared daggers at the gambler as he straightened. Ezra swallowed, then his eyes softened. He shook his head and licked his lips nervously.

"Christ, Nathan, I didn't mean...."

Gunfire suddenly exploded around them, and the horses screamed, running into each other. A mixture of rifle cracks, shotgun blasts and pistol fire rippled the breeze.

Ezra fell to the ground, thrown sideways as something punched his back on the left side. Rolling, he somehow drew his Remington and slipped into the stream bed for some cover, the ice cold liquid rushing over his calves as he ducked down on bended knees in the water.

Nathan literally dove to the ground, scrambling for cover behind a small mound of earth and a handful of small boulder shaped rocks. He was firing back almost the entire time, hoping to hell he was firing in the right direction. His position was terrible, much too open, and he prayed to God that whoever was shooting were terrible shots.

Bean fell backwards into the horses, using them for cover and trying to grab their reins to stop them from running off. Dragging their reins with him, he got behind the boulder he'd been sitting on, and quickly pulled his rifle from off his saddle. The horses stayed with him until he started firing, then they danced away several yards, hating the noise even though they'd heard it plenty of times before.

The gunfire continued to pepper the air around them.

"Bean, get out of here!" Nathan yelled, watching unhappily as men started emerging from the woods to their west. They looked more like trailhands than gunslingers, and their rifles were old. Quickly counting, he estimated there to be about ten in all, including the ones still hidden in the trees. "Get to cover!"

"What?" Bean continued to fire, and smiled grimly as he saw one of their ambushers fall, grabbing at his gut.

"Get out of here!" Nathan yelled again, ducking as dirt smacked his face from a few bullets too close to his face.

"Can't hear you, bucko!" Bean yelled back.

Nathan grimaced at the obvious lie, and looked for Ezra. He saw that the gambler had switched to his colt, probably because the Remington was out of bullets. For some peculiar reason, the healer noted that Ezra was firing it with his right hand. He never fired the colt with his right.

Earth sprayed up near the healer's face again, and he returned to the task at hand, shaking his head to clear it. Why the hell did it matter what hand the man used? He was bleeding ambidextrous anyway. More dirt, and Nathan ducked back again, one hand moving up to brush some of the mud off.

Too close. Focus!

And then, as quickly as it started, the firing from the woods stopped. The ambushers who had been partly visible ducked down out of sight, disappearing like ghosts.

Hearing this, Ezra lowered his gun and risked a peek over the edge of the stream's bank. Nathan was looking at him, his nervousness plain, shaking his head to indicate that he didn't know what was happening.

"Throw down your guns!" a voice yelled.

"Carstairs!" Ezra hissed, eyes widening. He looked at Nathan and repeated the name more loudly, and the healer grimaced.

"Simpson, you and your boys had best come out," Carstairs yelled from the trees. "You're surrounded!"

"And then what, you'll kill us more quickly?" Ezra yelled back, hastily ducking down and pulling bullets from his gunbelt to reload his guns. Water had soaked his pants through and his left hand shook slightly, slick fingers having trouble with the bullets.

"Just give me back my diamonds, and I'll let you go!"

Ezra laughed, and shook his head. "You stole those diamonds, Carstairs. They're not yours."

"And you stole them from me! So what's your point?"

"The point is," Ezra looked over at Bean, saw the former soldier still trying to control the horses, "...the point is, Carstairs, I didn't steal them. I'm returning them!" Catching the former soldier's eye, he started pointing feverishly at the horses, then at the woods.

"Ha!" Carstairs yelled back.

Bean frowned, and shook his head as Ezra continued to make odd hand motions. He couldn't understand what Ezra was trying to tell him.

"We're lawmen, Carstairs!" Ezra continued. "We're returning those diamonds to your parents!" Ezra pointed even harder in Bean's direction, his face becoming flushed with frustration. Bean just shook his head.

"Two black men and a gambler," Carstairs laughed coldly, "lawmen, of course you are."

Ezra continued to gesture desperately, and, suddenly, Bean's face lit up with understanding. The former soldier gave the thumb's up sign, and Ezra blew out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. The gambler then looked over at Nathan, who was watching him openly. Did Ezra have a plan? The healer wondered When the gambler flashed him a quick grin, he nodded. Yes, he had a plan.

Carstairs, meanwhile, was getting impatient, "Come out Simpson," he called again, "or we start shooting again."

"Okay!" Ezra yelled, focusing back on their enemy. "We're coming out!" He quickly shoved his colt away and unbuckled his gunbelt. Shoving the Remington into the holster, he looked over the top of the stream's bank towards where he thought Carstairs was. "And if anyone even thinks about shooting my two friends, then, believe me, Carstairs, you will never see those diamonds again!"

"If you say so!" Carstairs laughed back.

"I've stashed them, Carstairs," Ezra added, realizing that needed explanation. "You won't find them without me. That's what my associate and I were arguing over when you arrived."

There was no answer for a moment, then the three men heard mumbling coming from the woods. After a moment, noises of assent met their ears.

"All right, Simpson," Carstairs agreed, not sounding happy. "None of you will be hurt. You have my word."

"Is it worth anything?"

Silence. Nathan shut his eyes. Nice one Ezra, the healer thought angrily to himself; man has a knack at making bad situations worse. Glancing at the gambler, he saw that Ezra was slapping his forehead. Yup, he knows it too. That made Nathan smile.

"My apologies, Mr. Carstairs," the gambler yelled. "That was...uncalled for. Of course, your word is good."

"Whatever. You'd best come out," Carstairs called, all mirth gone from his voice. "Throw those gunbelts away and keep those hands up."

Slowly, Ezra stood up first, his red coattails dripping wet, and held up his gunbelt with one hand. After tossing the gunbelt to the ground in front of him, he then placed both hands on his head. He glanced at Nathan, arching an eyebrow. Get it? he was asking him silently.

The healer gave a small smile, nodded, and, standing up, imitated Ezra. Tossing away his own gunbelt, he put both his hands on the back of his head...within easy reach of his knives.

Bean tossed away his rifle, and simply raised his hands up. He stepped closer to the horses as he made himself visible.

On the other side, ten men, including Carstairs, who was still wearing his ivory colored suit, emerged from the woods. Two led some of the men's horses, while the rest kept their guns trained on the three men by the brook.

As they made their approach, Bean's hands lowered, ever so slightly, and he inched closer to the horses. As they were pretty much all watching Ezra, who was smiling cockily, he did so with relative impunity. This was one of the few times when being a colored man was a good thing – it could make you invisible.

When all the ambushers stood only about ten feet away, Bean acted.

With a rebel yell, he slapped his hand as hard as he could on the back of one of the rented mares, which, considering he was damn strong, instantly caused her to whinny and jump forward, running headlong in the direction of Carstairs. The other two mares quickly joined her as Bean dove behind them, hitting both of them as well, and the clearing came alive with screaming and running horses and shouting men. As he rolled, the former soldier picked up his rifle where he had thrown it.

The ambushers tried to switch their aim to cover the former soldier, but the horses barreled right through them, nearly knocking them over before they could even get off a shot. One did fall, and rolled as the horses ran right over him. Carstairs jumped to the side, but not before getting his right foot trampled on, causing him to yell and drop his gun so he could grab it.

As soon as Bean yelled, Nathan reached for his knives, throwing two of them almost as fast as Chris could draw his gun, and killing two of the ambushers dead who still held onto their guns. Ezra flicked his wrist and took down two others with his derringer as he jumped backwards into his streambed again, pulling his colt out with his left hand as he did so. Nathan threw his last knife, and then dove to the side as the remaining ambushers managed to start firing again.

But now they were the ones in the open, and four of them were dead.

Make that five.

Bean grinned as he reset his rifle. He was back behind his boulder and firing.

Six ambushers down now. Ezra grinned as he lowered his unfired colt, shifting it to his right hand and pressing his left to his back. Bean was very good with that rifle.

Carstairs had hobbled to his feet and was trying to run away, trying to get back to the trees. He yelled as the two men who'd been leading the horses suddenly shot past him on two of the same horses, knocking him into the mud. They disappeared into the woods, not even bothering to look back.

The last man simply ran, throwing away his own guns and holding his hands up as he did so, screaming that he wasn't armed to whoever would listen.

By the time Carstairs managed to sit up in the slippery mud, he found himself looking up into Nathan's face, the healer's retrieved gun pointing at his head.

"You're under arrest," Nathan grinned.

_____________________________

Part Twelve

Ezra crawled back out of the stream and stood up slowly, his left hand still pressed to his side. The mares and some of the dead outlaws' horses were milling around at one edge of the clearing, watching and turning in random circles. As he watched, Bean jogged over to gather them up. Nathan, meanwhile, was leading a very dirty and clearly angry Carstairs back to where Ezra stood. The diamond thief was limping, almost hopping, his broken foot obviously paining him.

The gambler was no longer smiling, he simply stared at Carstairs, then at Nathan. The healer shoved the diamond thief to his knees, and ordered him to put his hands on his head. Then he smiled over at Ezra. The gambler frowned at him.

"So-called pursuers?" Ezra repeated coldly. Nathan's smile fell somewhat, and he shrugged.

"Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong."

"Maybe?"

Nathan grimaced at the tone, then frowned. "Don't act all high and mighty there, Ezra. It's not like you've never been wrong."

"Oh really?"

"Remember Vin, Mosely, and Chanu? That weren't you helping him track, now, was it?"

Ezra's eyes flickered towards the ground, then up again. "That was a long time ago, Mr. Jackson."

"And what about the first time we met? In the saloon? Think I've forgotten the way you looked at me, huh?"

"I believe I have more than made up for that...."

"Seems to me that you ain't done enough."

Ezra's expression hardened, "And what about Li Pong? I still believe you owe me an apology for that."

"Maybe."

"Again, maybe!" Ezra hissed. "What the hell do I have to do?"

"Stop making money off the backs of other people," Nathan yelled.

"Off the...oh, now you're thinking of those girls of Wickes'! I was helping them Mr. Jackson! Not selling them!"

"Oh really? Didn't look like that to me!"

"You can't damn well sell something you don't own, Mr. Jackson. I never once forced those women to agree to my idea -- something they demonstrated quite keenly when they left me in the lurch!"

"You were taking advantage of them!"

"At what point?" Ezra's eyes were wide, his right hand outstretched in an open gesture.

"Don't give me that shit, Standish!"

"Standish?" This came form Carstairs, where he still knelt on the ground. "Maude's son?"

"It's not shit, Nathan, I..." Ezra stopped, blinked, then looked at Carstairs, "Did you just mention my mother?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Nathan rounded. "Not surprising someone like him would know her, or you. Peas in a pod, wouldn't you say? Thieves, cons, cheats...."

Ezra stopped looking at Carstairs to Nathan. "I am not, nor have I ever been, a thief," he informed him darkly.

"Seems to me, you draw that line awful shallow in the sand, Ezra. Where are those diamonds, huh?"

"STOP IT!" Bean's voice echoed through the clearing, causing both arguing men to jump. "Stop it, Nathan! Stop it!"

The healer grimaced, "Bean...."

"No! Look around you, foolish boy! There are six dead men on the ground; your friend – and he is your friend, Nathan, whether you know it or not -- is wounded; we've got the thief on his knees, and all you can care about is defending your pride 'cause you made a mistake!"

Nathan just stared at Bean, and the older man stared back, his eyes as black and hard as flint.

"Bean, you don't...."

"The hell I do! You were wrong, Nathan. Stop seeing only one side of the story and help Ezra before he collapses."

The healer's eyes widened, and he looked back at the gambler. Ezra was staring at the ground now, embarrassed. He was leaning over slightly, his left hand still pressed against his back, on the side. Nathan was suddenly filled with self-disgust. Why hadn't he noticed the gambler was hurt?

"What...what's the matter?" he asked Ezra.

"He's been shot! Ain't it obvious? His left hand's covered in blood from where he's been holding his side ever since he fell into the stream that first time," Bean retorted. "He's just as stupid as you, because he hasn't said anything. Now, you do something about it, while I clean up this mess." Grabbing a length of rope off one of the horse's, the former soldier walked over to Carstairs and roughly pulled the man's hands behind his back in order to tie them.

Nathan's face fell, and he blushed deeply. Ezra glanced up at him, then away. Nathan bowed his head.

"Ezra, I'm...," he stopped, then tried again, "will you let me look at it?"

The gambler kept his gaze on the ground. He didn't resist as Nathan gently walked around him and lifted his hand off his back. There, on the lower left side, blood had mixed with the water stain on the red jacket. Gently lifting the coat away, the healer grimaced as he examined the wound

"The, uh, the bullet's...pretty deep. I, um, I don't think I can just cut it out and bandage you up."

Ezra didn't react, just stared at a ladybug crawling across a bit of long grass.

"Is it paining you?" Nathan asked.

"Some," Ezra replied softly.

"My foot's killing me," Carstairs muttered angrily. They ignored him.

"There's a doctor in that town, Creeksville," Nathan said, straightening up and letting Ezra's coat fall back down. "He...he's probably the best one to deal with it. Better n' me, I'm sure. I'll just put something on it to stop the bleeding, and we'll go there."

Ezra just turned slightly, green eyes catching Nathan's; the healer could see tears in them, though they hadn't fallen. The healer frowned and turned away, not knowing what the look meant. For a strange moment, he almost thought Ezra looked saddened by the idea.

"Creeksville?" Bean said. "You sure you want to go back there, Nate? We weren't too welcome there, remember?"

"They got a doctor, Bean, and it's close. Ezra needs tending, and I'm not the one to do it."

"Why?"

"Cause I just ain't!" Nathan shouted, stalking over to his mare to grab his kit. Ezra just watched him, not saying a word as the healer opened the bag and pulled out a bandage. Shutting the bag closed, the healer walked over to a prickly pear patch and, using a knife, cut off one of the pads. Ripping the cover off the cactus pad, he walked back to Ezra. The gambler lowered his eyes again, and took off his jacket. Nathan helped him lift his shirt, then, as he was holding it, pressed the prickly pear pad to the wound, to which the gambler hissed. Then he wrapped it in place, with the bandage.

Bean, meanwhile, had thrown the bodies of the ambushers over their horses. Tying them down, he hit them on the rump to send the horses off at a trot, hopefully towards home.

__________________________

CONTINUE

Some footnotes –

♦ Okay, I raided the Library of Congress and the University of Texas Map collections for this one, trying to get the railroads straight. It's a bit like watching a spiderweb grow in double time, where lines seem to appear and disappear at the same time. I pretty much hit every railroad map I could hit between 1874 and 1879 for the area, but they didn't all quite line up, which was a little annoying. Can give you headaches trying to make them all work together. All I can tell you is that the Denver and Rio Grande (D&RG) railroad extended down into New Mexico from Colorado in 1874, as far as Santa Fe. The railroad line then continued south from Santa Fe down through Albuquerque and to some undefined point beyond, following the river, but that did not belong to the D&RG and I have no idea who's line it was, or how far it went in '74, which may not have been far past Albuquerque at all. (I didn't check, as I was only concerned with the Santa Fe area at the time). I just didn't have the eyesight to stare at those tiny, faded, hand drawn maps for that long.

The Santa Fe, Atchison and Topeka line ran east-west from Kansas, through Texas, and stopping again in Santa Fe. Or starting there, depending on your perspective. By 1879, a rail line was also built that came down from eastern Colorado through Antonito and through Las Vegas, NM and over to Santa Fe. But, my story "pre-dates" that time by a couple of years. But, for those who are interested, it was when the train hit that little town of Las Vegas that the town got its start as one of the most violent, desperado filled towns in the west. Billy the kid was just one of its frequent visitors during the early eighties.

Bean would have come down the D&RG, then switched to the Santa Fe line in San Domingo, a pueblo not far south of Santa Fe where the junction seems to have been.

Dumb thing is, it really doesn't matter. I mean, who really cares, right? But I'm a research freak, so I spent waaaayyy too much time looking at maps, photographs, and descriptions, trying to inject a little more realism into the story. Really silly, I know.

♦ That notice is real. It was posted in Las Vegas, New Mexico on March 14, 1882. Its on display at the Governer's Palace in Sante Fe, New Mexico, where I copied it. Couldn't resist not using it at some point in a story.