Bucephalus

"Hey Ez. You goin' to take a bath?"

"I believe that would be a safe enough assumption on your part, my friend." Ezra smiled, anticipation making his usual easy drawl as thick and sweet as honey.

"Well, I'm assumin' that you ain't heard the news, then?"

"And what news would that be, Mr. Wilmington?"

"Bath house is closed. Had an in-fest-a-tion or something like that. Ol' Hank is in there scrubbin' and cursin'. You can hear him halfway across town." Buck grinned, blue eyes twinkling. He loved a good story almost as much as he loved a good woman.

"Dare I ask... No. On second thought I do not wish to know. I will merely go back to my room and indulge myself in a bath there." Ezra turned, his towel swinging out to brush lightly against Buck's hip.

"Can't do that, either."

"And the reason for that?" Ezra turned back around, annoyance sharpening his tone. It was sometimes difficult for even Ezra to ascertain when the tall gunman was being serious. And when he wasn't.

"Well, the nice Mrs. Patrick that runs the boardin' house is at her daughter's place - oohhin' and aaahin' over her new grandchild. Betsy, the maid at the boardin' house, is feelin' poorly tonight. Jessie is busy doin' the cooking. And Pete is busy doin' everything else. So unless you want to go down to the kitchen and boil the water yourself, you ain't gettin' a bath anytime soon. I think they loaned their tub to the hotel, anyway."

"I shall try the hotel, then." Ezra narrowed his eyes as Buck shook his head.

"Where you been today, Ez? The hotel is plumb full of cowboys all wantin' a bath before the big dance tomorrow. You'll be lucky if you get a tub before noon on Sunday."

"I have just arrived back in town after many grueling hours in the saddle, thank you very much." Ezra snapped. "I am tired and hot and extremely dirty. I wish to take a bath before I go to bed, where I shall sleep til noon on Sunday if at all possible!"

"Well, there's always the creek. Should be nice and warm this time of year." Buck grinned and tipped his hat to the sullen gambler before walking towards the saloon, whistling merrily.

"The creek," Ezra muttered, scowling. He contemplated just going back to his room and going to sleep, never mind the damned bath. But he could feel his flesh crawling from a combination of dirt and sweat and Lord only knew what else. Damn that bastard,Chris Larabee, anyway. Ezra would just bet that the hard hours in the saddle the past few days hadn't fazed the gunslinger a bit. He probably had his own tub out there at that shack he called home, too.

The gambler didn't even consider riding out to Chris's place, though. Somehow, he just couldn't see himself asking the tall, blond, gunslinger for the use of his tub. They may have spent the last four days together, escorting a prisoner to a town halfway across the territory, but there were some things you just did not do.

"The creek," Ezra said again, sighing and turning in the direction of the livery stable.

+ + + + + + +

"Well, at least it would appear that I have the place to myself." Ezra slid down off his mount, wincing slightly at the various aches and pains this produced.

He was nearly to the bank of the small stream when he spotted a familiar figure. It was Vin Tanner. The tracker was sitting Indian style on the ground. His head was bowed, long hair falling forward to cover his face.

"Are you here to avail yourself of the facilities, as well?" Ezra called out, shrugging mentally. He'd been hoping to have a little privacy in which to conduct his ablutions, but he was nothing if not adaptable.

The tracker looked up and shook his head, brushing a rough sleeve across his eyes in a quick motion. Ezra sat down on a nearby rock and began removing his boots with a sigh of relief.

"It appears that there is not a tub to be found in that miserable excuse for a town that we call home." Ezra said conversationally. His mood was improving a bit at the thought of how near he was to actual water in which he could remove the dirt and sweat begriming him from head to toe.

"I'll head back to town so's you can take your bath." The tracker's voice was thick and sounded odd enough that Ezra glanced up in surprise.

"That's quite all right, Mr. Tanner. No need to..." Ezra's voice trailed off as he peered more closely his companion. Vin's eyes were suspiciously red. As if he'd been weeping. And he wasn't meeting Ezra's gaze.

"It's okay. I'm about done here, anyway." Vin got abruptly to his feet and Ezra reached out, his hand catching a fold of the tracker's pants.

"Wait." Ezra stumbled to a halt, feeling suddenly foolish. Whatever Vin had been doing, whether crying or something else entirely, was his own business. And Ezra P. Standish did not get involved in other people's business unless there was money to be made.

"What do ya want, Ez?" The tracker's voice was still odd sounding. Ezra would have said vulnerable, but his mind shied away from that description. He removed his jacket and gunbelt, attempting to formulate a reply that would not make him feel more foolish than he already did.

"It is obvious that something is wrong, Mr. Tanner. Perhaps you would care to share whatever it is?" The words slipped out before he could stop them. Not what he'd intended to say at all.

Vin hesitated.

"Perhaps another time." Ezra couldn't quite hide the flicker of hurt he felt at the tracker's hesitation. Which was silly, considering that he didn't want to hear Vin's troubles in the first place.

"I reckon you'll think it's stupid." Vin frowned, still not looking at Ezra.

"Perhaps. But since you happen to be fully armed and I am wearing nothing but my shirtsleeves", Ezra indicated the small derringer he'd just laid atop his gunbelt at his feet. "I promise you that I shall endeavor to restrain any urges toward laughter I may suffer."

"I had a horse once." Vin sank with boneless grace to the ground. He glanced once at Ezra before turning his head back to stare out at the water.

"He was black, with a big head. Had a white blaze in the middle. He was smarter than most folks I know. And he didn't have a fearful bone in his body. Could scare off a cougar with one look. He was ornerier than hell with everyone but me."

"And what happened to this paragon of equine virtue?" Ezra asked when the silence threatened to stretch on.

"Killed in an ambush while I was bounty huntin', three years ago today. Damn horse saved my life more times than you could shake a stick at. But I couldn't return the favor." Vin scrubbed angrily at his face with the heel of one hand.

"I'm sorry, Vin."

"Yeah, well. It was just a horse, right. No reason for a grown man to be sheddin' tears like a damn fool."

"Alexander the Great would beg to differ with that remark."

"Who?"

"Alexander the Great. He was a warrior. An emperor. His horse was named Bucephalus." Ezra's voice fell into a low singsong pattern, as if he were weaving a spell of some sort. The story of Alexander always had that effect on him.

"What happened to them?" Vin turned his body slightly towards the gambler in an unconscious motion.

"Well, when Alexander was but a twelve-year-old boy, his Father the King received a horse as a gift. It was a magnificent black stallion. But no man could ride him for he bucked wildly and kicked out with sharp hooves, making it a challenge even to approach him. The King grew angry and threatened to destroy the beast, but Alexander put a hand out to stop him. He begged his father for the chance to prove that he could ride the wild stallion."

"And how'd he do that?" Vin asked, fascinated with the ancient story. The low whisper of the wind mixed with the gurgling sound of the water to form a backdrop for the gambler's voice. It was one of those moments that seem to be caught out of time.

"Alexander had noticed that the sun was casting a shadow and frightening the horse, who was very young. He began walking towards the big black horse, speaking softly and whispering words of friendship in its ears. The horse let him approach and he turned it gently, so that the shadow was cast to its back where the horse could not see it. Then Alexander mounted and rode the horse proudly around the ring as if it were nothing more than a child's pony. His father immediately gave the horse to Alexander and from then on the two of them were never parted until the day Bucephalus was killed in battle."

"Did Alexander..." Vin stopped, biting his lip and looking at the ground.

"Alexander led the funeral procession for Bucephalus, weeping unashamedly at his loss. He went on to name a city in India for his beloved mount and he never forgot Bucephalus in the short life that remained to him."

The two men were silent for several moments. Ezra didn't know what had possessed him to tell Vin that story. He shifted uncomfortably on the rock.

"My horse's name was Diablo." Vin smiled slightly. "'Cause folks used to say what an ugly, mean tempered devil he was."

"But not to you," Ezra said softly.

"Nope. Not to me." Vin stood up and gestured at the water. "You'd best go take your bath, Ez. Wouldn't want the water to get cold."

"Perish the thought, Mr. Tanner." Ezra began to unbutton his shirt.

Vin started to move away and then stopped.

"Ez?"

"Yes, Mr. Tanner?"

"Maybe you could tell me some more stories about this Alexander fella when you got time."

"I would be delighted."

Ezra was smiling as he dipped a foot into the water. It was just right. He'd have to remember to buy Buck a drink tomorrow. This had been a damn good suggestion.

The End