Disclaimer:
The usual. They’re not mine, they’re
owned by the boys at MGM, who created them.
I do not take credit. Fair Use,
okay?
Title:
Well, it could be Figure of Speech. It could
also be called The Hole. I never was good at titles.
Notes:
Another little snippet, in response to Jean’s challenges. This one combines the one I failed at when I
wrote Golden Bull (to write a fic with Figure Of Speech in the title, and
including the words harass, chiseler and furtive) and her Birthday challenge
(Ezra has to spend his birthday on his own, and getting all introspective about
the whole thing). Written in a blur, so a little rough about the edges.
Description: Ezra’s down a hole, and he’s a mite bit annoyed. Vin, meanwhile, employs his own lovely brand of subtlety in order to find him.
Figure
Of Speech, Take Two
_____________________________
Morning,
five miles from Four Corners, somewhere in the hills….
He shook
the dust off of his arms, and brushed shaking hands through his hair. That had been one hell of a fall. Gripping a nearby support beam for purchase,
he levered himself up so that he was standing, wincing slightly as pain lanced
up his right foot. When he was fully
upright, he stared up the dark shaft to the top, squinting somewhat at the
brightness of the glow from the shaft opening.
His right wrist ached as well, and he rotated it slightly as he looked
up, mindlessly measuring how much he’d hurt it trying to catch himself on the
way down.
Twenty
feet.
He’d
fallen twenty feet…or rather, had been pushed down a hole twenty feet
deep. Pushed! By those two….
“BASTARDS!”
he suddenly screamed. His face darkened
as his anger took hold, “Low down, vile, underhanded, malicious, reprehensible
scoundrels! Cheap, villainous swine!
Reptilian, crooked, foul-smelling, swindlers! Diseased, rank, scurrilous
degenerates! Malevolent, pusillanimous, despicable chiselers!” He paused for a
breath, chest heaving in anger. “GOD
DAMNED SONS OF BITCHES!”
Still
panting, he gripped the support beams that fortified this shaft, and shook with
all his might, anger overcoming his reason.
Dust, dirt and insects rained down from above, instantly stopping him.
What
was he doing? Letting go, he backed
away from the wooden slats, shaking his head viciously to dislodge the muck
that had fallen. Finally, he held his
breath, intent to just listen. To see
if the two reprobates that had conned him into coming out here to look at this
“plentiful copper mine” were still standing above.
No
sounds.
“BASTARDS!”
he screamed again. Bringing a shaking
hand to his mouth, he stared up at the perfectly square hole above his head
with amazed green eyes. “Cretinous
wastrels….they left me here to die,” he whispered.
Why
hadn’t he seen it as a con? Too damned
cocky, that’s why. Playing poker with
two traveling gentlemen of “means,” he had failed to see them for what they
were. He’d cleaned them out, then, when
neither had any more cash to offer, the older one had offered the deed to this
little mine. One of his “many little
holdings” the man had said, a slight smirk on his face. He’d looked wealthy, had smelt wealthy,
there was no reason not to believe….
Why
hadn’t he seen the deception? Instead,
he’d simply accepted it, his mind thinking about all the possibilities a copper
mine meant, not caring to look deeper into these men’s faces for their plan to
trick him. And trick him they had. Brought him out to a hole in the ground, a
hole in the middle of the desert, first thing this morning. Brought him out, convinced him to look down
it, then pushed him in.
He
never was at his best in the morning.
He was tired, groggy…and completely unable to retain his balance. He didn’t even recall hitting the
bottom.
Yet
here he was. Ezra P. Standish. Brilliant conman, cardsharp extraordinaire,
occasional lawman…down a hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere with a
sprained wrist, and twisted ankle….
“On
my birthday,” he completed his thought out loud, looking down at the black dirt
at his feet. The world spun a little,
and he had to grab at one of the support beams again to keep his balance. The mine shaft scaffolding creaked a little,
and he sighed.
Fabulous.
“All
right, Ezra, you’ve been in tighter spots than this,” he muttered to himself,
looking around the small space he was in, determined to find something he could
use. The hole in the ground had,
indeed, at one point been a mine. Or
rather, the entrance to a mine. Light
streaming in from the six foot square hole at the top allowed some light to
travel down here, allowing him some ability to see.
Wood
scaffolding and support beams stretched up the shaft, all the way to the top,
shoring the hole. They could be climbed,
so long as the old wood wasn’t too dry and wouldn’t break, and so long as his
wrist and ankle were up to it.
Otherwise, there was the dark passageway leading away from him in one
direction. Musty, cold air blew out at
him from the blackness…not tempting.
Pressing
his lips together, he drew a match out from the store on his gun belt and lit
it, tentatively reaching his hadn’t out into the darkness. His eyes watched the tiny flame, seeing it
blown around in various directions. As
he pressed a bit further into the darkness, the flame stilled.
No
wind. No way out.
Sighing
again, he waved the match out.
“I
guess I’m climbing,” he said bitterly, looking up again.
________________________________________
Mid-Afternoon,
Four Corners
Vin
leaned back in his chair, hands tucked casually behind his head, listening to
Josiah reading a story outside the Potter’s store to a small gaggle of small
children, the oldest not more than four years in age. They all listened intently as the deep sonorous voice of the
preacher weaved a tale of genies, magical lamps and evil sorcerers in a land
far, far away. One girl giggled as
Josiah pretended to speak in the scary tones of the evil sorcerer, earning her
an elbow in the ribs from one of her friends.
Vin smiled and let his eyes drift around the town.
He
became slightly more alert when the two men Ezra had ridden out with this
morning returned, big smiles on their faces.
The older one was laughing at something the younger one was saying, a
fact which puzzled the tracker. When
they had left this morning, neither man had seemed happy, while Ezra had had a
particularly smug gleam in his eye. But
now…
He
continued to watch as the strangers dismounted and tied their horses to the
railing outside the saloon. The older one
patted the younger on the back, and they wandered inside.
Vin
looked up the road they’d just come from.
No Ezra.
“Josiah,”
the tracker said quietly, his tone dark. The old man stopped speaking and
looked up, his eyes questioning. Seeing
Vin’s expression, he turned back to the children and sighed.
“I’m
sorry, my friends, but duty calls,” he said quietly, smiling a little sadly and
closing the book he was reading. As
one, the children groaned, but nevertheless stood up and let the older man
leave.
The
preacher sidled up to Vin and raised his eyebrows.
“Two
fellas that Ezra rode out with this morning returned, all smiles, and without
Ezra,” Vin told him.
“The
ones he won that mine off of last night?” Josiah asked, looking towards the
saloon with Vin.
“He
won a mine, huh?” Vin responded. “No
wonder Ez looked so pleased with himself this morning.”
“And
now they’re back, and without him…” Josiah repeated, his tone deepening to
display an anger the children he’d just been reading to would never hear.
“Yep.”
“Should
we go have a talk with them about our now missing brother?” Josiah asked,
pulling out his knife to glance at its wicked edge. Vin offered him an equally wicked smile.
“I
think a subtle parlance might be in order,” the tracker agreed. Josiah grinned at the imitation of their
smooth-talking friend and headed in the direction of the saloon.
_______________________________________
Mid-Afternoon,
still in that hole…
Ezra
was halfway up, resting, when he heard the sound. His wrist and ankle were
throbbing unmercifully, angry at their continued abuse, and his head wasn’t
feeling much better. Then, from above,
a gentle snuffling around the edge of the opening caught his attention. He smiled.
“Chaucer?”
he called lightly, peering up into the glow.
A
light whinny responded, and Ezra leaned into the dirt wall, a thankful smile on
his face. They hadn’t taken him. The smile turned to a grimace, however, as
the horse got too close to the hole, causing a chunk of dirt to come loose and
smack him on the head.
“Chaucer!
Back up!” the sputtering man yelled.
Confused, the horse tried to get closer, resulting in more loose dirt
and rot to come down.
“Get
Back! Back!” he yelled…to no avail.
Chaucer kept trying to get closer, to understand where the sound of his
master’s voice was coming from, and why it was so angry. Ezra risked a glance up, just in time to see
the elongated head silhouetted against the sunlight, and then a hoof, as
Chaucer screamed and nearly lost his balance.
The beautiful stallion backed up hurriedly as the weak ground gave way
beneath its hooves, jumping back almost ten feet before feeling itself again on
solid ground. His sharp ears heard the cry of his rider as a particularly large
chunk of rocky soil fell into the hole…then nothing.
Gingerly,
he moved closer again, and whinnied.
No
response.
Down
on the floor of the shaft, Ezra lay in a crumple heap, covered in dirt, mud and
bits of wood. Still conscious, he
lifted a hand to his face to brush some of it away, eyes blinking rapidly. He heard Chaucer’s whinny and ignored it.
“Oh
well,” he mumbled weakly to the air, bravely trying to stay awake as he shifted
to lie flat on his back, “looks like I’m spending my birthday alone again this
year….” A small laugh escaped from his lips.
Not the first time, he thought.
Although he had to admit, spending it down in a hole in the ground was
new. Over his lifetime, he’d spent his
birthday in jail several times, he’d also spent it trapped in the boiler room
of a steamer, tied up in the back of the baggage car on a train, on the run
more often than he could count, and once…just once…he’d spent it with his
mother. Of course, he’d also had
several birthdays fabricated for him, as part of cons, so he knew what the day
was supposed to be like….
Maybe,
someday, he’d have a real party. Just
once. Maybe, if he had told the others
that today was his birthday, they might’ve thrown him one. Maybe.
Ezra
drifted off to sleep, his mind imagining what sorts of gifts his friends might
have given him, a smile on his face.
Up
above, Chaucer sniffed around the hole, patient as ever.
________________________________________
Ezra’s
room above the saloon, Four Corners…
“You
boys looking for something?” Vin leaned against the doorframe to Ezra’s room,
his arms crossed over his chest. The
two men inside stopped their searching instantly, hands hovering over some of
the goods they’d found in the gambler’s room.
A small pile of jewelry, a pocketwatch, the pearl handled colt Ezra kept
under his pillow, and a roll of money lay in a pile on the bed.
Josiah
stood behind Vin, a menacing shadow in the hallway leading to the outside. Light glinted off the knife in his hand.
The
older man offered a furtive glance to his companion, who responded with a wide-eyed
stare. Coughing into his hand, the old
man took a breath and tried to smile at Vin. “Um, no, mister. We were just, uh, we were….”
“Well,
actually, we were looking for something, sir,” the younger man suddenly piped
up. “See, we, uh, we gave something to
the man who owns this room last night, and, uh, we were trying to get it
back. Family heirloom, you know? And, well, this fella, he said he’d keep it
safe for us until we left today. Well,
we’re leaving and we can’t find the fella, so, um, we figured we could come and
get it ourselves.”
“S’truth,”
the older man confirmed. Vin tried not
to roll his eyes.
“And
he told you, you could just search his room like this?” the tracker asked,
dropping his arms to the side.
“Sure,
of course. We wouldn’t be up here
otherwise, would we Pa.”
“No
son, we most certainly would not,” the old man said solemnly.
“Well,
then I guess maybe my friend and I will help you search,” Vin smiled. “And maybe we’ll get some other friends of
ours to help. Josiah?”
“Already
sent word for the others, brother Vin.”
Vin
smiled at the two men, and undid the strap holding his Winchester to his
leg. Slowly, he loosed it from the
holster and balanced it on his arms.
“So, what is it you’re looking for again?” he asked. The younger one licked his lips, eyes
shifting about nervously.
“A…uh…look,
we really don’t need any help. We can
find it on our own. Besides, when the
fella who owns this room comes back, he can tell you all about it. Okay?”
“Oh
yes…the fella. And where did you say he
was again?”
The
old man swallowed, “who?”
“The
fella who owns this room.”
“Oh,
I’m sure he’s about. You know, he’s a
gambler type. Probably out gaming
somewhere,” the old man said. His son
nodded.
“Somehow,
I don’t think so,” Vin’s expression darkened, and he raised the sawed-off
shotgun in the direction of the men.
“Now, where is he?”
“Mister…this
ain’t any of your concern,” the younger one tried. “I mean, I don’t see no badge on there, and…”
“And
we don’t take nicely to being treated this way,” his father finished. “We’re simple folk just trying to find our
things and leave. You have no right to
harass us like this.”
“The
fella who owns this room is my friend, old man. That’s all the right I need.
But if you want more, I think you’ll find that my rifle here ups my
authority quite a bit.”
The
old man’s eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips. “Look mister, there ain’t no call for this. The man who owns this room…no offense, but I
can’t imagine he’s your friend. He’s a
gambler, not a dirt cowboy like you.
Are you sure you got the right room here?”
The
corners of Vin’s mouth twitched, and he tilted his head to the side. Footsteps in the hallways behind indicated
that backup had arrived.
“Well,
Josiah? What do you say? Do we have the right room?” He stepped into the small space, gun still
raised. Behind him, Josiah picked at
his nails with his knife and came in after him.
“Oh,
I’m pretty sure. What do you think
Buck?”
“Oh,
I’m pretty sure this is Ezra’s room, Josiah.
Had it for a while now, hasn’t he, JD?”
The tall gunslinger grinned as he followed the preacher inside, coming
as if from nowhere, his own gun cocked and raised. JD rested to hands on the colts at his hips and pretended to look
around as he stood in the doorway.
“Yup. Almost a year. Done some nice things with it, too. Nathan, don’t you think Ezra’s room is nice?”
The
healer pursed his lips as JD stepped aside for the taller man to enter. Space was getting to a minimum at this
point, crowding the two strangers to one side.
“It’s
okay. Kind of prefer a little less
color though,” the healer rejoined.
“Oh,
I like the color,” Chris deadpanned as
he brought up the rear, colts up and ready.
“Livens up the place. But I’d
rather see the man who put it here.” He looked directly at the old man who was
now physically cowering in the corner by the window. “So…you want to tell us where he is?”
“You…You’re
all his friends?” the younger man asked, his eyes wide staring at Vin.
The
tracker nodded.
“I
thought you said he hadn’t any friends, son,” the old man hissed to his boy,
his voice heavy in accusation. One of
the rules of the game, never cheat a man with friends. “I thought you said he
was a loner,” the old man continued.
The younger man shook his head, still watching Vin.
“You
sure you’re the gambler’s friends? I
mean…the one in the red coat? With the
green eyes? Him?”
“What
exactly is so hard to understand about this, kid?” Buck demanded, getting a
little tired of this game.
“But
he said…he said it was his birthday today and…and that he normally spent it
alone, but that this year, he might have a party to celebrate because of…the
mine, see…but that probably no one would come and…so I just assumed…” the
younger man faltered, and looked over at his father with a downcast
expression. “Aw hell, I’m sorry
Pa. He sounded like a loner to me.”
In
the background, JD cast a confused look at Josiah, but the preacher just
shrugged. He hadn’t known it was Ezra’s
birthday either. The others kept their
dark expressions, not wanting to show their surprise at the revelation. Indeed, if anything, they became even more
menacing.
Seeing
this, the old man grimaced, his eyes on Chris Larabee, picking him out as the
leader. “We tell you where he is, you let
me and the boy go?”
“No,”
Chris replied. “But if you tell us
where he is, we may not kill you.”
“Much,”
Vin added.
_______________________________________
Night,
still in the hole…
Ezra
awoke with a start, and cursed at the sight of stars overhead.
“Alright,
that’s it. No more mines. That’s
it. Next time I hear the word mine, I
will politely turn my head away and say, ‘no thank you.’”
Silence
accompanied this statement, and Ezra pursed his lips. His eyes narrowed.
“Of
course, if the mine is guaranteed, that would be different. But, it must be bank certified. And recently certified. Titles over six months old will not do.”
He
paused again, licking his lips, eyes measuring the visible constellations. In
the distance, something cooed.
“Then
again, I could be missing out an a tremendous opportunity if I insist on
certification. And banks are not always the most reliable of….Oh hell, what am
I going on about? I’m stuck down a
hole. On my birthday. A big hole, admittedly, but still a hole. And I’m talking to myself.” He grinned suddenly, and shook his head as
he heaved a mighty sigh. “Next thing I
know, I’m going to start seeing crows.”
With
an aching slowness, he got himself back onto his feet, body protesting every
inch of the way. By some incredible
piece of luck, he still didn’t appear to have broken anything. Bruised, sprained and battered, yes, but not
broken. He leaned against the side of
the square hole and pretended not to care that he knew things were crawling
around in there.
“Next
year,” he muttered, “next year will be different. Next year, I will have a party.
There will be confections, streamers, music and dancing. Everyone will come, and life will be
wonderful. I will not be drowning,
hurt, maimed or otherwise unhappy in any way.”
He
looked down at his feet, barely visible black blobs at the ends of where his
legs were. The right one seemed to be
aching even more now that the cold had descended. Without noticing, he’d been rubbing his sprained wrist as well,
trying to work out the pain.
“Truth
be told….I say that every year,” he told the empty darkness of the mine. His tone was quiet, defeated. Then he switched his gaze upwards, once
again to look at the stars. His green
eyes shone in the white light, and he bit his lip.
“But,
things…are different now, aren’t they?” He asked the sky this question, and the
stars twinkled in reply.
He
had friends now. A home. His heart warmed slightly as he realized
just how long he had been living in Four Corners. He’d never stayed anywhere this long before, not unless it was
part of a con or because he was too little to leave on his own. But he had settled in Four Corners, really
settled. His mind drifted over images
of laughing with Buck and Vin, of battling wits with Chris, of arguing with
Nathan. He thought of Josiah standing
next to him, silent, watchful and ever-present. And then there was JD.
The boy’s hazel eyes wide and curious, listening and nodding, teaching
Ezra what it was like to believe in something.
And Ezra had started to believe in that something too.
“I
could have a party. It’s not
impossible. It could happen.” The stars laughed, and his expression
darkened in anger.
“It
COULD happen!” he yelled up at them.
The stars laughed harder.
“And
they will come to find me,” he added.
“This I know.”
“Talking
to yourself Ezra?” a loud voice suddenly called. The gambler nearly jumped out of his skin. Then he did what came natural – he whooped. He would have jumped if he could have moved
without causing himself more pain.
“VIN!
You wonderful, brilliant man, you!” he yelled back, his face threatening to
split into two with the width of his grin.
“What took you so long, you reprobate!”
“Cheeky
bastard, ain’t he?” Vin asked someone.
“Maybe we should leave you down there until you learn some manners!”
“I
will if you will!” Ezra retorted, still grinning madly. He couldn’t remember being so happy to see
anyone in his life!
“If
Vin had any manners, Ezra, you’d still be down there!” Buck called. “Shoulda
seen the way he talked to them two boys that threw you down there. Subtle as a three day old corpse!”
“You
hurt down there?” Nathan interrupted, peering over the edge. Ezra squinted up at the silhouette.
“Got
some nasty bruises, and I twisted a few things, but I’ll not complain if you
get me out of here!”
Nathan
laughed, “Promise?”
“On
my honor as a gentleman!”
“That
means no, Nathan,” Vin laughed.
“Hey!”
Ezra retorted.
“Oh,
sorry Ez, you were serious? I thought
that was just one of your figures of speech!”
“Get
me out of here, and I may not have to kill you for that remark.”
“That
sounded like a figure of speech to me, Vin.
Perhaps you should leave him down there.”
“BUCK!
Don’t even joke! GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”
“Shame.
I kind of like him down there,” Buck sighed.
JD’s giggle drifted down, and Ezra wished he could see them so he could
glare properly.
“We’ll
send a harness down, okay? The ground
is soft up here, so it might be slow going,” Vin joined Nathan in peering into
the hole. Ezra waved, not that Vin
could see him. Both men disappeared
and, after a moment, a rope with a knotted harness in it came tumbling down.
____________________________
“So
how old are you?” JD asked, watching as
Ezra rather unsuccessfully tried to placate an annoyed Chaucer. The horse was still angry at being yelled
at.
The
gambler stiffened slightly, and turned to look at JD, dropping his hands from
Chaucer’s neck to rub at his now wrapped wrist. The horse snorted in disgust and trotted away to join the other
horses.
“How…old?
Why do you ask?”
“Because
it’s your birthday, right?” the
question was so innocently asked, that Ezra almost answered. Then his eyes narrowed.
“What
time is it?”
Buck,
who was leaning against a nearby tree, popped open his pocket-watch and tilted
it into the firelight. “Just after
midnight, Ez.” Over next to him, Nathan
and Vin and the others were watching Ezra unashamedly, waiting.
Ezra
flashed a quick grin and looked at the ground.
“I’m afraid it is no longer my birthday, Mr. Dunne.”
JD
frowned, “So?”
“So…I
am not going to answer your question.”
JD
frowned even more deeply. “Why not?
What does it matter if…”
“Because…I
want to tell you next year,” Ezra replied, looking back up to stare at JD and
the others with eyes almost as pure and clear as the boy’s. “At my party.”
JD
looked back, then, slowly, he smiled.
“Promise?” Then, more slyly, “On the grave of your sainted mother?”
Ezra
simply laughed.
End