"Mrs. Travis I was wond-," Ezra broke off as he watched Mary Travis frantically dry her eyes and pretend she hadn't been crying. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern in his voice. He strode across the room and knelt down beside her chair.
"Oh I'm alright Mr. Standish. Truly I am," Mary assured him, her voice unsteady and broken. "It's nothing."
He stood up and looked down at the top of her blond head. "Well, if you're sure," he began doubtfully.
The blond head nodded and he began to move away but stopped half-way to the door and looked at her again. Mary's head was still bent and she didn't bother to look up to see if he was going.
Ezra hesitated. Obviously she was upset, but about what he wasn't sure. He wasn't accustomed to dealing with crying females and was uncertain as to what to do. He wondered if he should get someone else and quickly discarded the idea. Chris, Vin, Josiah and Buck were transporting some prisoners to Eagle Bend and would be gone until the end of the week. Nathan had ridden out early that morning to help a farmer who had injured himself. He didn't consider JD thinking the young man would have even less experience in these matters than he did.
"Mrs. Travis," he began as he made his way back to her side. "I can't leave you in this state." She looked up at him, blue eyes swimming in her tears and he felt a small part of his heart melt. She looked like a lost child. Ezra had a soft spot for children. Oh well, he thought recklessly. His voice softened as he said, "Please tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help."
Mary stared back at the gambler. He actually looked like he wanted to help. Along with drinking, Mary was vehemently against gambling. While she didn't dislike Ezra, she had never really given the handsome con man much thought.
But why not unburden myself to him? she thought. It's not like there was anyone else in Four Corners she could really talk to. Her outward image was of the upstanding widow who held her own in this wild town where the men out numbered the women 7 to 1. Not great odds for an independent woman to find a confidant.
Ezra was still patiently waiting for her to speak. Her eyes dropped down again to her lap where her hands twisted a sodden lace handkerchief. "Today is the anniversary of my husband's death," she said in a low voice.
"Oh," Ezra breathed out. He looked down at her again and in a moment of intuition realized how hard of a life this must be like for a woman like Mary. Here was a beautiful, independent woman, in a town that had very few women, trying to do 100 different things at once. Not only did she run the paper, but she was also trying to make the town a safe place to live in, attract more people and businesses, and get the school built. He had never really thought about it until then all that Mary Travis was trying to accomplish. And she was probably the loneliest person in town, Ezra thought.
Trying to accomplish all of that would most likely antagonize the majority of the people of Four Corners. Oh, they would respect her and admire her, but few, he suspected, would be her friend. The men would be threatened by her independence and drive; the women by her beauty and very eligible status and perhaps envy her independence as well.
No, to be Mary Travis must not be very easy. His admiration for her shot up.
"Mrs. Travis," Ezra drawled out. He reached down and took one of her hands. "I'm sure your husband is looking down at you right now and wondering how in the world he was so lucky enough to have been married to you."
She gave him a startled look and then smiled a shaky, watery smile. "Thank you Mr. Standish," she whispered. "Steven was a very good man."
"Yes ma'am," Ezra said, "I've heard a lot about him and I really can't imagine you married to anything less."
She looked around The Clarion's office. "This was his dream." She sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing it justice."
"Trust me ma'am, he couldn't have left it in better hands." Ezra was sincere in every word he said.
She smiled at him gratefully and then gently disengaged her hand from his. She stood up and brushed her skirt. "I was going to take some flowers to his grave. I should do that now."
"May I have the honor of escorting you?" Ezra asked suddenly.
"I would like that Mr. Standish. I would like that very much."
+ + + + + + +
"Think the town is still standing?" Buck asked his companions.
"That's why we left Nathan there. To keep an eye on JD and Ezra," Josiah said.
"I have to admit," Chris said, "I sure will be glad when we get there." He added a bit too late, "I want a bath and a decent meal."
"Uh huh," Buck said suspiciously with a twinkle in his eye. "A bath and food is all you want right."
Chris turned cold eyes onto his long time friend. "Yep," he said in a bland tone that warned Buck that any further talk down that path would be dangerous to his health.
Josiah and Vin chuckled quietly as Buck's only response was a "Yeah right!"
An hour later they rode wearily into town and straight to the stables. After settling their horses, they went to their unofficial meeting hall, the saloon. Immediately they spotted Nathan and JD at a table and walked over. They heard the tail end of one of JD's jokes.
"So the farmer yells out, 'Don't let that quack operate on me!'" JD laughed at his own joke and looked over at Nathan who merely stared at him. "Don't you get it? The Doctor is a duck. Quack. Duck."
"I get it," Nathan replied. "It's just not funny."
"Of course it's funny!" JD exclaimed indignantly. He caught sight of the four newcomers. "Hey guys! Welcome back."
"JD, Nathan," Buck said as he sat down in one of the empty chairs. He took a sip of the whiskey Vin brought over to him. "Thanks Vin." He looked around the crowded bar. "Where's Ezra?"
JD shrugged as he gathered up the cards on the table. "Probably with Mrs. Travis," he said off-handedly. "Been spending practically every minute with her this week. Hardly ever comes in here anymore."
The other men had gone very still and they looked cautiously over at Chris. The man in black stood there quietly drinking his whiskey, impassive as ever. But Buck, who had known him the longest, could see the lines around his mouth tighten just a little bit more.
"That so," Chris drawled out quietly. He finished his drink and set it on the bar. "I best be getting that bath I wanted." He nodded to the others and walked quietly out of the bar.
"He's not going to do anything, is he?" Nathan asked, concerned. He was tired and really didn't feel like patching anyone up that night.
"Nah," Buck said robustly. "Old Chris is alright. He ain't going to do anything to Ezra. At least I hope not."
It took every ounce of his self control to force himself over to the bath house rather than running over to The Clarion and finding Mary and asking her what the devil was going on with Ezra. It didn't help that the bathhouse was located so close to The Clarion.
As Chris came nearer and nearer to the bathhouse, he felt a small pinpoint burning in his gut. He could not identify what it was. He dismissed it as hunger.
Out of all the available men around, he couldn't see Mary being attracted to the conman. Or maybe it was the other way around? Chris' lips thinned into a straight line. If Ezra was using or running some scam on Mary, he was going to teach that dandy a lesson he would never forget.
+ + + + + + +
Mary vented some of her anger in furiously printing out tomorrow's edition of The Clarion. A scowl was etched on her face as she quickly cranked out the words on each snowy piece of paper. It wasn't working. The fury she felt had not dissipated one bit.
"I would hate to be in the shoes of that machine."
Mary looked up at the speaker. Ezra was standing in the doorway with a bemused look on his face. He entered the room and looked down at several freshly printed editions. Some were a bit smudged and blurred. Not Mary's usual standard. He peered closely into her face and saw the angry scowl.
"And what pray tell, has happened to put you in this extremely foul mood. And should I be armed?" Ezra asked lightly.
"It's the whey-faced, so-called leaders of the community," Mary spat out. "I just came from a town leader meeting and we face yet another set back in getting the school started."
"I thought it was agreed that construction would begin next week?" Ezra asked in surprise. "The funds have been raised, and goodness knows there are enough children to have a school. What could be the obstacle in starting the establishment?"
"A teacher," Mary said. "There is no qualified teacher within a hundred miles of this town. I've wired Orin but he can't find anyone willing to come out here to teach."
"But why are you upset about the others' actions?"
"Mrs. Potter's niece in Oakdale 75 miles away is interested in becoming a teacher. She's very smart but she doesn't have a teaching license. The only school superintendent qualified to give the teacher's exam is in Gramency, 35 miles from Oakdale. I've tried to get Mr. Hennessy, that's the superintendent, to make a trip to Oakdale, but he won't. He says that he's not due to test in Oakdale for another year and he wasn't intending on doing it any sooner. Orin even tried.
"I thought it might be better if someone either escorted Emily, Mrs. Potter's niece, to Gramency or went to Mr. Hennessy and spoke to him personally and try to convince him to visit Oakdale. I wanted some of the men to make up a delegation." Her brow darkened. "Naturally they said no. I thought about going myself, but after the response I've received from Mr. Hennessy," forgetting she was a well-bred woman, Mary's lip curled slightly, "I don't think he'd be too open to a woman's opinion." She sighed. "The others are willing to wait another year or two for the school to open. They don't think it's that important. But the children here need some base. Some of them are getting wild. That school has to open this year."
"Perhaps I can be of some assistance," Ezra said thoughtfully.
Mary looked at him in surprise. "You mean, you would go to Gramency?"
"Oh no," Ezra laughed lightly. "Let's just say I'm persona non grata in both those fair cities." He stared thoughtfully off into space. "However, I might be able to get in touch with a few people who may know a few people."
Mary's face softened as she smiled at the gambler. "Mr. Standish, that's so kind and generous of you to help."
There was no mocking undertone in her words and her smile held sincere warmth. Ezra, unused to gratitude directed towards him, ducked his head slightly. "I can't promise anything Mrs. Travis, but I'll see what I can do."
"That's all I can ask for."
"Mrs. Travis," Ezra continued. "I would be extremely grateful if we could keep my involvement in this affair between the two of us."
"Of course, but why?"
"Madam, I do have a reputation to retain," Ezra replied in horror. "Word of my assistance with the children will indefinitely stain it."
Mary surpressed a smile. One of the things she had learned about Ezra Standish was that he undoubtedly loved children. And, he was quite good with them. She didn't understand his reasons for keeping his help a secret, but she was willing to abide by his wishes. "You have my word. And please, call me Mary."
Ezra looked up in surprise. With the exception of Chris, none of the other men ever called Mary by her given name. "Mary," he said quietly, trying out the unfamiliar feel in his mouth. "I believe I should return the favor, ma'am and insist you call me Ezra."
"It would be a pleasure," Mary agreed with another warm smile.
There was a sound from the doorway and both turned to see who the new visitor was. The sun was starting to sink in the sky. The fading light backlit the figure offering the two only a dark silhouette. But they recognized the height and leanness of the figure. Chris Larabee had returned.
"Mr. Larabee!" Ezra exclaimed in surprise. "I had not realized that you had returned."
Chris walked into the room, the lamps lighting his features and chasing away the dark shadow they had been in. He did not return Ezra's greeting immediately but merely looked at Mary for a moment. His piercing blue-eyed gaze then turned on Ezra. After a too long moment, he nodded at the gambler.
"Ezra. Mary," Chris said in that deceptively soft voice of his.
The tension had suddenly risen in the room. It was so palpable that Mary and Ezra glanced at each other uneasily. Ezra cleared his throat.
"I trust that there were no problems?" Ezra asked.
There was another moment of too long silence. "None," was the gunslinger's one word reply.
Ezra and Mary looked at each other again. Ezra tilted his head and almost shrugged. "Well then," Ezra began. "I really must go to the saloon and...do something." He tipped his hat at Mary and edged cautiously passed Chris.
"Goodnight Ezra," Mary called out as the slim figure disappeared into the now dark street.
Chris had bent over to examine some of the smudged copies of The Clarion that Ezra had been looking at earlier. His body stilled when he heard Mary call out. Since when did she start calling him Ezra? he thought. Nathan was the only one who's first name she used. She rarely calls me by my first name, and only when she's agitated about something. Though Lord knows I've called her Mary often enough.
Alone with Chris, Mary felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. She put the sensation down to his unsettling behavior. She laid down a fresh sheet of paper and started the press again.
"When did you return?" Mary asked trying to make conversation.
"A few hours ago," Chris said. "These are smudged." He pointed out to some of the already printed copies.
Mary sighed. "I know. Ezra has already pointed it out to me." She looked regretfully at the wasted materials. "I'm afraid I've been careless."
"Not your usual standard," he commented, eyeing her closely. "Something bothering you?"
Mary looked up from her work in surprise. She began to tell him about the school teacher trouble but quickly stopped herself. Chris Larabee had made it clear to her that he was not particularly interested in the more mundane activities of Four Corners. It was not dramatic or dangerous enough to warrant his attention. She also suspected that he thought her attempts to make Four Corners a habitable place were foolish and misguided. Nor did he approve of some of her methods. "No," she said quietly. "Nothing at all."
Chris noticed her hesitation and thought she would confide in him. He was bitterly disappointed in her answer. "Oh," he said. He cast around for some way to broach the Ezra subject. The task was difficult. Since Sarah's death, he often had gone weeks without saying more than a few dozen words, most of which were the word "whiskey". Never a master of the art of conversation, he found what little skill he did have severely rusted.
"How have the last two weeks been?" Chris asked lamely. Not the most brilliant of openings.
Mary looked at him oddly. Chris Larabee making social conversation? "Fine." It was her turn to give the one word answers.
More awkward seconds followed as Mary continued to print up copies of the paper and Chris stood idly by. The man's moods swung from one end of the spectrum to the next making him unreadable. Mary had never encountered this one. She sensed that he wanted to say something to her, but she did not know what. She tried to find a way to make it easier for him, but was at a loss as to what to do.
"Is there something you wished to discuss with me Mr. Larabee?" Mary asked hesitantly, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.
She saw what little emotion that had been displayed in his face and body immediately disappear as he reverted to his old, impassive self.
"Nothing ma'am," he said, his voice becoming cool and toneless. "Nothing at all. Just wanted to make you aware that the rest of us were back in town." He tipped his hat to her and walked quickly out into the night. His black clad form dissolved immediately into the darkened street.
Chris walked slowly down the street to the saloon. His pace became more determined as he decided his course of action. It occurred to him that Mary may not realize what Ezra's intentions may be. He shouldn't interrogate her, but the person who's motives were questionable.
He strode into the saloon. Those who saw him realized that Chris Larabee was not, in what passed for him, a jovial mood. A few more body conscious people quickly scurried out as soon as Chris passed him.
Chris saw Ezra seated at a table with a few men. He was shuffling a deck of cards in front of him when Chris came up to the table.
"Mr. Larabee," Ezra greeted the gunslinger who paused by the table. "Would you care to join us?"
Chris stared at him a moment. "Don't mind if I do." He sat down. The other men, sensing Chris' mood immediately got up and all but ran from the table.
Ezra stared at him in surprise. Chris rarely played cards and if he did, he never would with Ezra. That uneasy feeling he had in The Clarion offices began creeping up his spine again. It only increased when the others seated at the table made a hasty retreat. He began to wonder if he should do the same.
"Well," Ezra cleared his throat. "This is a surprise. You've never played cards with me before."
"Maybe I should play with you more often," Chris said with a slight smile that looked predatory. "Ezra, I want you to-"
"There you are Chris old buddy!"
Chris' head snapped around at the speaker. Buck quickly came up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Need to talk to you pardner." The bigger man all but dragged Chris from the table and out of the saloon.
Ezra, alone at the table, stared bewildered after the two men. He shook his head slowly and began to shuffle the cards absently. Chris Larabee must have spent too much time out in the sun. For the life of him, Ezra couldn't figure out why he would be so hostile to him.
+ + + + + + +
When they were halfway to the sheriff's office, Chris finally managed to shake Buck's death grip off. He glared at his old friend. "What the hell was that all about?!" he snarled angrily.
"Now Chris," Buck held his hands up in a placating manner. "You can't kill Ezra."
"Who said anything about killing Ezra?" Chris demanded. "I was just going to tell him to leave Mary alone."
"Uh huh," Buck said, "And what gives you the right in deciding who can and cannot talk to Mrs. Travis?"
"Well I'm-. I mean that-," Chris stumbled around for an answer and then shut his mouth. Buck was right. He had no right to dictate who Mary and Ezra should talk to. "He's running some sort of con on her. I just know it."
Buck stared incredulously at his old friend. Is that what he thought? A more sensible Chris would realize the gambler would never try something so incredibly stupid. Especially on Mary Travis, beloved daughter-in-law to Judge Travis. Buck shook his head. It was obvious that there was something affecting Chris' usually good judgment. He was willing to go along with his theory for now as long as it kept the two men separated. "Do you have any proof?"
"No," Chris admitted reluctantly. "But I just know it. Why else would he be spending so much time with Mary?"
"Well Chris," Buck laughed. "She is mighty pretty looking. Hell, I even tried myself." He saw the cold look Chris gave him and hastily tried to cover himself. "Not that anything came of it.
"Look," Buck continued. "You can't do anything unless you have some proof. Right now, all we know is that Ezra has been talking to Mary a lot."
"So what do you suggest?" Chris asked.
"We just keep a close eye on him for a few days. Let old Buck handle it. I'll talk to Ezra in a roundabout way. Get a feel for what his intentions are. That way, if he's not running some scam, you don't look like a damn fool for going after him."
Chris slowly nodded his head. He realized that Buck's plan was the wisest course to follow. Buck's words would come back to haunt him frequently that night, "if he's not running some scam." He would dream of the other alternatives but when he woke in the morning, he would not remember them. They would be mere black shadows keeping the other black shadows in his mind company. The small pinpoint burning that he felt in his gut began to grow just a little bit more.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra heard an odd sound coming from the back of The Clarion. Curious, he rounded the building and walked around to the yard back there. He stopped short at the sight before him.
Mary Travis was standing at a chopping block attempting to split some firewood. Strands of her long blond hair had come loose from her bun and were streaming in the stiff wind. Her sleeves were rolled up exposing slim white arms. He watched as she brought the ax down on the wood in front of her.
"Mary," Ezra called out.
Mary turned her head and smiled at him. Her face was flushed from her exertions and he could see a few beads of sweat on her face. "Good morning Ezra," she called out.
He stared at the very small pile of firewood next to Mary. It seemed a very meager amount for what obviously looked like a great deal of work on Mary's part. "Don't you have a boy to do these sort of chores for you?" he asked.
Mary laughed lightly. "Contrary to what most people think. I am not a rich widow. All of my money goes into the paper which, if you haven't realized is not exactly the biggest profit making business in town." She wiped the sweat from her brow. "I can only afford a little help every now and then." Ezra noticed that she gripped the ax gingerly.
"Let me see your hands," Ezra demanded even as he moved towards her and gently grasped one. He turned it over, palm up and sucked in his breath. He could see the blisters rising up and in a few places the skin had been torn.
"You shouldn't be doing this," Ezra scolded as he handed her his handkerchief. He swallowed hard and gallantly offered his services. "Please allow me." He held out his hand for the ax.
Mary stared at the gambler and almost laughed in his face. Ezra volunteering to do manual labor? When he still kept his hand out, she handed the ax over with a doubtful look. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"I seem to have vague memories of doing this when I was about ten," Ezra replied as he took the ax and handed Mary his coat. He regarded the ax a moment with a thoughtful look and then took a firm grip. Mary stood well out of the way.
Ezra took aim and swung the ax high up and brought it down with all his might. He missed. The ax embedded itself in the ground next to the chopping block. He heard Mary burst out laughing and glared at her over his shoulder. "A mere warm up swing," he said with as much dignity as he could muster.
Chris was about to go into the front doors of The Clarion when he heard something. He cocked his head and realized it was coming from the back. He went around the building and heard laughter. Mary was laughing. He had never heard her laugh before.
When he reached the back, he saw Mary laughing as she watched Ezra trying to chop firewood.
"Honestly Ezra!" Mary gurgled out. "You're worse at it than I am!"
"Madam," the gambler panted as he tried to pull the ax out of the chopping block. "I merely need to find my rhythm first."
Chris stared at Mary as she continued to giggle. He had never seen her like this before. Her face took on a radiance and a softness that warmed her features. Instead of the perfect if somewhat icy appearance she so often presented, in her slightly bedraggled state, Mary looked warm and sensual. He felt the odd burning in his gut become a little larger as he moved forward.
"Mary," he said as he tipped his hat towards her. "Ezra."
Mary turned around startled. She had not realized there was another person there. "Good morning Mr. Larabee," she smiled a little uncertainly. She was wondering what mood he might be in this morning.
"Mr. Larabee," panted Ezra.
"What's going on?" Chris asked as he watched Ezra come towards them.
"Ezra," Mary said, now grinning at the gambler, "Kindly offered to cut some firewood for me." She swallowed a chuckle. "His efforts, while quite well intentioned, did not achieve the desired result."
"And as I tried to explain to Mary," Ezra said indignantly, "I was merely trying to find my rhythm." He brushed a hand over his sweat covered brow. "Perhaps I am not the best person for this type of work. However, I, as a gentleman, could not allow Mary to continue to ruin her hands."
Chris turned to Mary. "What's this about your hands?" he demanded.
Mary looked vexedly at Ezra and tucked them further under the coat she held. "It's nothing. They're just a bit blistered."
"Why didn't you tell one of us, tell me, you needed some firewood cut?" Chris demanded.
"Mr. Larabee," Mary returned acidly, "You gentlemen were hired to be peacekeepers in this town and not chore boys."
"Mary," Chris said, as he looked into her eyes. "I would have been more than happy to help you out."
As they stared at each other, Ezra looked from Chris to Mary and smiled widely. "Well then! Since Mr. Larabee is offering his services, and I'm certain he is an excellent firewood chopper, I'll just take my leave." He was happy to get out of the chore. He took his jacket from Mary's arms. "I think I'm in need of some liquid refreshment." He tipped his hat at them and strolled towards the street.
When Ezra removed his jacket from Mary's arms, Chris's quick eyes saw the condition of her hands. He grabbed one of her hands swiftly and examined it closely. Mary, who had been looking after the departing Ezra, jumped in surprise.
Chris' lips thinned into a straight line. "You shouldn't have continued to chop wood." He looked back into her face. "These must hurt."
Mary withdrew her hand and mumbled, "They're fine."
Chris took off his black coat and handed it and his hat to Mary. He picked up the ax and went over to the chopping block. After taking careful aim, he swung the ax high up and brought it down with a mighty blow. The wood on the block immediately split in two. He picked up another piece and repeated the process. Soon, a large amount of fire wood was in a neat pile next to him.
Chris was barely sweating as he helped Mary pile the wood. He dusted his hands and turned to her. "What else needs to be done?"
Mary objected. "Really Mr. Larabee, you shouldn't be doing this for me."
"Mary," he said softly. "You know I don't do anything I don't want to. I should have realized sooner that you might need help. What with no man and all."
He saw Mary bristle. "I assure you, I am quite capable of taking care of myself."
Chris smiled. "I don't doubt it Mary, but sometimes it's nice just to have some help."
He could see that she was a bit mollified. Guilt warred with the realization that she did need a few things tended to that Chris might be able to do better than she.
"Well," she demurred. "There are a couple of loose shingles on the roof."
"Have you got a hammer?"
+ + + + + + +
"Mr. Larabee!" Mary called out to the gunslinger on the roof. "Are you ready for some dinner?"
"I'm almost done Mary," Chris called down. He looked at the roof of The Clarion with an expert eye. The damage up here was a bit more extensive than just a few loose shingles.
As he worked on the roof throughout the morning, he berated himself for not realizing that Mary may have needed help. It just never occurred to him that there wasn't anyone around to do the simple chores that a husband or any male relative would take care of. He wondered how many times she had to chop firewood until her hands blistered and bled and then she would have to put the paper out. He shook his head at her stubbornness in not asking for help. But he understood and respected her reasons. In fact, he admired them. The fact that Orin Travis hired them may have made some think Mary was entitled to extra special attention from the seven men, but Mary certainly did not feel that way. However, she was going to get it, whether she liked it or not.
With a final bang of the hammer, he pounded the last nail into place. Chris stood up and admired his work. It felt good to actually do some of the mundane chores that have been missing from his three year of nomadic existence.
He went to the edge of the roof to the ladder and climbed carefully down. Mary was waiting below, her hand shielding her eyes from the noonday sun. When he reached the ground, he realized that she was looking at him oddly.
"You can wash up in the kitchen. There's soap and water," Mary said abruptly. She turned on her heel and walked into the building.
Chris looked after her surprised, wondering what was bothering her.
Mary scurried into the kitchen and began fussing with the loaf of bread cooling on the counter. She focused all of her attention on carefully slicing it. She heard Chris come in behind her and begin to wash his hands in the basin. She carefully kept her face averted from him.
She hoped he hadn't seen her blush. As Chris came down the ladder, she realized that he had rolled up his sleeves revealing muscular arms. When he had reached the ground, she saw that he also had unbuttoned his shirt part-way. Unlike most men, he wore no undershirt and a smooth, hard chest was just exposed.
When she realized she had been staring at this exposed flesh, she had felt absolutely mortified. Her only thought was to get away from him as quickly as possible so he wouldn't see her blush.
She heard Chris pick up the towel next to the basin. Mary thought she was in more control of her feelings and turned towards the table with the bread. She smiled at Chris and gestured for him to sit down.
"This looks good Mary," Chris said as he took his place at one of the chairs at the table. He looked over the dishes. "I haven't had a home cooked meal since-," he thought for a moment.
"Since you took Billy fishing," Mary finished for him with a smile. She handed him some potatoes. "One can only live on restaurant food for so long Mr. Larabee."
"Chris," he mumbled.
"Pardon?" Mary asked surprised.
"Chris. You don't have to call me Mr. Larabee. Chris is fine. I call you Mary all the time," was Chris's ungracious offer of his first name.
Mary looked disconcerted for a moment, but then she smiled. "I just got the impression that you preferred to keep things on a more professional level. But if you would prefer me to use your given name, I will be happy to."
There was silence for a few minutes as they enjoyed the noon day meal. A silence that was occasionally punctuated by a "taste good" and "thank you."
"I have to thank you again Mr. Lar-, Chris, for helping me out today," Mary began. "All those chores would have taken me the entire day."
"And if I had caught you walking around the roof trying to fix those shingles, I would have strangled you, Mary," Chris said jokingly. In a more serious tone, "It's way too slippery up there for a woman in skirts to be working on the roof. You could have gotten hurt. That's not something I ever want to see."
"Well," Mary said lightly, "I guess it's fortunate you came along this morning."
"Or Ezra would have given you a hand," Chris said casually.
"I really don't see Ezra working up on a roof!" Mary laughed. "He was a dear, sweet man to offer to help with the firewood, but I don't think Mr. Standish is the handiest of men."
Dear? Sweet? Not words Chris would use to describe the gambler. His good mood dimmed a little and it took him a moment to realize that Mary was speaking to him. He focused his attention on her.
"Billy has been bragging about you to his friends at school," Mary said as she related the news from the last letter from the Travises. "He's anxious to go fishing with you again."
Chris responded with a rare smile that dropped the years away from his face. For a moment, he looked boyishly handsome and Mary felt that flutter in her stomach again.
"I had a real good time with Billy," Chris said. "I'll take him fishing whenever he wants."
They settled into silence once again, but this time it did not feel awkward. Chris breathed in the good smells of the kitchen and caught a whiff of something else. Flowers. He looked at the centerpiece and disregarded it. He took another breath and identified the scent of roses. He realized Mary was wearing some sort of perfume. He felt his body relax and his constantly tense muscles loosen. Bread baking. The perfume of a beautiful woman. These were the scents of home.
The darkness came flooding back into him, mocking him for enjoying the all too brief morning. It jeered at him for believing he could actually escape its grasp. They always came whenever he dared contemplate any type of normal life.
Mary noticed the sudden shadow fall across Chris' features. One moment, he had looked so happy and relaxed, and now, it was like someone blowing the lamp out in a room. Unconsciously, she reached across the table and touched his hand.
"Chris," she asked worriedly, "Are you okay?"
The human warmth surprised the jeering shadows. They stopped abruptly and regarded each other in confusion. They and the object of their derision looked up and stared at the golden woman who looked so worried about the fragile mortal that was their plaything.
"Chris?" Mary asked again, her worry increasing. "Please tell me, are you okay?"
He only continued to stare dumbly at her as the shadows regrouped to form another assault. Their plans were thwarted when Mary suddenly stood up and walked over to Chris. She placed a hand on his forehead and peered intently down into his face.
"You don't feel warm," she frowned. Her face became as gentle as her voice. "Please tell me what's wrong."
"I'm fine," Chris managed to get out in a strangled voice. He cleared his throat and miraculously the shadows receded. "I just thought of something."
"Something from your past?" Mary asked quietly.
Chris glanced sharply at her, but she retained her placid countenance. "I don't want to talk about it."
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Mary continued gently. "But I do want to let you know, while I can't help you the way you've helped me, I can still listen. Sometimes it's good to talk about things Chris." Her mouth quirked into a half smile, half grimace line, "And I promise it won't make The Clarion."
He was touched by the offer and was at a loss for words. "Thank you Mary. Maybe some day."
+ + + + + + +
"Ezra!"
The southerner looked up from the book he was reading (Tennyson) at the person who had called out his name. Buck Wilmington was striding across the restaurant and sat down at Ezra's table.
"Mr. Wilmington," he drawled out, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I guess we're both here for the same thing," Buck said jovially. "Dinner. I had my heart set on some fried chicken. You order yet?"
"No. I've just been waiting for our lovely waitress."
At that moment, a pretty, pert blonde appeared. She held an order pad and her eyes lit up when she saw Buck.
"Hello Buck," she giggled out.
"Miss Allison," Buck greeted in a courtly manner. Ezra merely rolled his eyes.
"What can I get y'all today?"
After giving their orders and flirting a bit with the waitress, Buck stared at his dinner companion and decided on the best way to gather information.
"Pretty girl, that Miss Allison, eh Ezra?" Buck winked knowingly at the gambler.
"She is quite attractive, yes," Ezra replied with an air that said a gentleman would not discuss such matters when the lady in question was so close.
"You know Ezra," Buck said as he leaned back in his chair. "I was thinking that the type of woman a man likes really shows what type of man he is."
"Interesting theory," Ezra answered in a bored tone.
"Take Nathan for example. He has those special feelings for Rain. Now, Rain is a pretty, smart, brave woman. She tells things like it is and she ain't afraid to. Honest, that woman is. A lot like Nathan."
"And what, pray tell, would your many affairs say about you?" Ezra asked.
"Hell, it just means I'm a real Renaissance man," Buck chortled. "I can do it all!"
"How inspiring," Ezra replied sarcastically.
"Well, what type of woman do you like Ezra?" Buck asked. "I mean, describe your perfect woman."
"Well," Ezra said, going along with the game because there was nothing else to do, "The woman needs to be intelligent, witty, able to appreciate the finer things in life."
"Blond, brunette, red-haired? Short, tall? Fat, thin? Pretty? Plain?" Buck asked in rapid progression.
Ezra stared blankly at the other man, puzzled by Buck's almost anxious tone and the volley of questions. "I would like to think I would be above judging a woman completely on her looks. Although," and he grinned roguishly, "It won't hurt her case."
"So what would you consider to be beautiful?" Buck asked.
"Mr. Wilmington, I had know idea that we would get into a philosophical discussion on what is beauty. Remember, 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.'"
"Yes, yes," Buck said, waving his hand dismissively. "Let's take an example. Say," and he pretend to think about it, "Mrs. Travis. Would you call her beautiful?"
"Mary?" Ezra asked. His use of her first name surprised Buck. "Of course. She's a very beautiful woman."
"But is she your idea of beauty?" pressed Buck.
"Mr. Wilmington, I have no idea where this is going, but unlike you, I am a gentleman and I prefer not discuss a woman of my acquaintance behind her back." Ezra said severely.
Buck opened his mouth to make a reply when the waitress came back with their food. He saw the look on Ezra's face that told him that the matter was closed.
However, it was far from being closed as far as Buck was concerned. He needed more information before he could tell Chris definitively what was going on.
+ + + + + + +
Chris was in a very good mood as he walked over to the sheriff's office after the noonday meal. The meal had somehow rejuvenated him. His step was a bit freer and he hadn't felt this good in a long time.
He felt fairly confidant that nothing was going on between Ezra and Mary. Any scam that is. Mary was smart enough to see through anything Ezra would try.
He saw JD on the porch practicing twirling his guns in both hands. He smiled to himself. If Buck caught the young man doing that, no doubt he would give the kid hell.
Buck.
He wondered where his old friend was. He should tell him not to bother trying to question Ezra since Chris was fairly certain nothing was going on.
He saw Buck coming down the street and changed his course. Instead of heading for the sheriff's office, he walked towards the other man.
"Buck," Chris greeted. He saw the worried look on his friend's face. "What's wrong?"
Buck shifted uneasily on his feet and became fascinated with the toe of one dusty boot. "Uhm, Chris. Remember that little job I promised you I would do last night?"
"About that," Chris began, "I don't think you need to worry. I'm sure Ezra's not doing anything to Mary."
Buck became even more uncomfortable and his fidgeting became even more pronounced. "Well, I had dinner with Ezra today and I sort of followed him around town."
"You followed Ezra?" Chris asked in disbelief.
"Oh, he didn't see me," Buck said proudly.
"I'm sure," was Chris' dry reply. "So what did you discover by following Ezra around?"
"Well, he sent a couple of wires and went to the post office and went to Potters'." Buck cleared his throat and could not look Chris in the eye. "He bought some real fancy combs for a lady to wear in her hair."
Chris stared at Buck. "That's it? What's the big deal about buying some combs. So he's going to give someone a present."
"Uhm Chris, Ezra ain't friendly enough with any woman in town that he can give the combs to. Except for one."
"Mary."
Buck nodded. Then his face lit up. "Well shoot! I plumb forgot! It might be Mrs. Travis's birthday. Maybe he got her a present. Is it her birthday Chris?"
It was Chris's turn to shift uncomfortably on his feet. "I don't know when Mary's birthday is," he mumbled.
Buck stared incredulously at him. "You don't know when her birthday is?!" he shouted. They were attracting stares and he moderated his voice. "Okay, this is not a problem. We'll just ask Mrs. Potter. She and Mrs. Travis talk. I'm sure she knows when Mrs. Travis's birthday is."
"I don't know Buck," Chris said slowly, "It might be-"
He never finished the sentence as Buck grabbed his arm and for the second time in less than 24 hours dragged him over to the general store.
Gloria Potter was straightening her counter when she heard the sound of heavy boots and looked up to see Buck Wilmington dragging a very annoyed Chris Larabee into her store.
"Gentlemen," she said pleasantly as they come up to her.
"Afternoon ma'am," Buck said as he took off his hat. Chris merely nodded but also removed his hat.
"What can I do for you today?"
"Well ma'am," Buck began, "We were hoping you can help us with a problem. You see, we don't want to offend no one or anything so we'd like to be as informed about the townsfolk as much as possible. You know, where everyone lives, what they do, what their birthday is."
"Yes," she said encouragingly.
"So, we were wondering if you could tell us when Mrs. Travis's birthday was," Chris interjected, weary of Buck's ramblings.
"Mary's?" Mrs. Potter said in surprise. She should have known this was about Mary Travis. She had always thought that Mr. Larabee was over protective of the young widow. At first, she had put it down to the relationship Mary had with the judge, but after she saw the tender way he comforted her when she was distressed over Claire Mosely's death, she began to think it may be something else. "Mary's birthday isn't for another four months. On the 14th."
"I see," Buck said with a too wide smile on his face. "You know ma'am, I think what would be a real nice gift for her would be some combs. Ezra was showing me combs he got here today and I was wondering if you had another set."
"Oh yes," Mrs. Potter smiled. "I remember those combs. Beautiful they are. But I'm afraid he bought my only set. I don't think I can order another set for you. They don't make that style anymore."
"Well, maybe I can get buy them from Ezra," Buck replied.
"I doubt it," laughed Mrs. Potter, "He said that they were a gift for a special woman."
+ + + + + + +
A few days later, Ezra and Mary were walking towards The Clarion's office.
"I managed to communicate with several acquaintances and they are aware of your predicament Mary," Ezra said as he walked with the widow down the street.
Mary had her hand on the crook of Ezra's arm. "When will we hear something?"
"In a few days," Ezra stopped their progression as a group of young boys ran screaming by. He smiled indulgently but his voice was laced with good-natured humor. "And not a moment too soon. The ruffians are running wild again."
"I'll be so happy when that school opens," Mary said fervently as they continued down the street towards the Clarion. "It's about time that these children get some education."
"The splendor falls on castle walls/And snowy summits old in story;/The long light shakes across the lakes,/And the wild cataract leaps in glory." quoted the gambler.
"Why Ezra!" Mary exclaimed in pleased surprise. "Tennyson! Where did you pick that up?"
"Well, I did have some sort of educational training myself," Ezra replied. Memories of his childhood flooded his mind and his sunny mood disappeared. A dark shadow crossed over and settled on his face as he forgot about the woman next to him and the rest of the town.
"Ezra? Ezra? Are you okay?" Mary asked, concerned about the sudden change.
"I'm fine," he said abruptly. They were at The Clarion's doors and he tried to disengage his arm but Mary held fast.
"No you're not," she said as she restrained him. "Is it something you want to talk about?"
"No," was his short reply and he tried to walk away again. He let out a sound of exasperation when she wouldn't let him go.
"Wait," Mary said. "I need to give you back your handkerchief. The one you lent me for my hands." She opened the door and pulled a reluctant Ezra inside.
He waited in the front office while Mary went to her living quarters to retrieve the handkerchief. He heard her light tread as she came back.
"I washed and ironed it," she said as she handed him the neatly folded square of snowy linen. "Thank you again."
"You're welcome," Ezra mumbled as he began to turn away and leave. "It was only a handkerchief."
"No," Mary said, stopping him in his tracks, "Thank you for being my friend."
Ezra stopped and looked at her questioningly.
Mary laughed a little and her hands fluttered nervously. "You may not know it, but I really don't have many friends in town. It's not easy being a single woman trying to run a business." She ducked her head. "The men are little intimidated by the business side and the woman are too. They all think I'm being unlady like." She him gave a smile that reached her eyes. "I just really appreciate all that you've done and for listening to me and for being my friend."
He stared at her in wonderment. Friend? That word was almost absent from his vocabulary. He had acquaintances. Business partners. Lovers. Victims. He thought back to when he last had a friend and realized he had to go very far back.
What he had with the other six men he did not feel he could classify it as a friendship. He knew they still regarded him with some suspicion, particularly Chris. He realized with a shock that he and Mary Travis had become friends. Knowing what his past was, she had still accepted him. The two loneliest people in town, the conman/gambler and one of the most upstanding citizens, had become friends with each other. The irony of the situation was not lost upon him. He realized she was still speaking.
"And as a friend," Mary continued. "I want you to know that I'll always be here to listen, if you ever want to talk."
The temptation was great. The chance to rant and rave about all the past hurt and his fears. But those wounds still felt too raw and fresh for him. He could not bring himself to trust Mary with that part. Not yet. Ezra licked his lips as he thought. But he did appreciate her offer. Perhaps some day.
"Thank you Mary," he said gently. "Maybe some day I will accept your kind offer." He tipped his hat and walked quietly out the door.
+ + + + + + +
"Good morning gentlemen," Mary said as she walked by the sheriff's office.
JD, Buck, Chris and Vin were seated outside, enjoying the fresh morning air.
"Mary," Chris greeted as the others also nodded and tipped their hats. "Do you need any help with those?" He nodded to the stack of papers in Mary's hands.
"No," she said, "I'm almost done."
"Shoot ma'am," Buck said as he cheerfully came up to her and grabbed the pile, "I'll be happy to pass...them...out." His voice trailed off as he stared at her head from his greater height.
"Uhm, thank you Mr. Wilmington," Mary said uncertainly. Why ishe staring at my head like that? She took a step back to get away from Buck. "Thank you very much." She walked off, throwing a strange look over her shoulder.
"Looks like your animal magnetism repels too Buck!" JD chortled as the older man continued to stare after Mary.
"What's wrong Buck?" Chris asked.
"The combs," Buck said in a strangled whisper. "Those are the combs."
"What combs?" Vin asked. "Buck, what the hell are you talking about?"
"The combs in her hair. Those are the combs," Buck repeated. He snapped his gaze away from Mary to Chris. "Now, Chris, it might not mean a thing." He knew his voice didn't sound convincing.
"Why Buck," Chris said calmly as he slowly got up, "I could care less." He nodded to the others and walked away at a leisurely pace.
No one who saw him would know that the demon shadows within him were laughing and jeering as they fed that burning fire that grew within him.
+ + + + + + +
Mary read the telegram with mounting excitement.
He did it, she thought, My goodness, he actually did it. She pulled her shawl closer around her and hurried over to the saloon.
Forgetting all the proper rules of society, Mary entered the saloon and quickly scanned the customers. She spotted his red jacket immediately and hurried over to where he sat with Buck, JD and Josiah. Vin and Chris were leaning against the bar.
She didn't notice the stir she created or the silence that descended. All eyes were on her as she walked up to Ezra, her eyes glowing and her smile wide. The happiness that was obvious in her face enhanced her beauty. In the dim interior of the saloon, she seemed to radiate with the power of the sun.
"Ezra!" she said excitedly.
"Mary!" Ezra yelped as he leaped to his feet. "You shouldn't be in here! Is something wrong?"
"I just had to tell you-" She became aware of the others surrounding them and listening to their every word. She remembered her promise and swallowed her words. "Some news. Would you mind coming with me?"
Ezra looked at the excited expression on her face and knew it could be only one thing. He felt a smile appear and nodded. He clasped Mary beneath her elbow and hurried with her out of the saloon.
Chris had watched the entire scene in silence. In the past, Mary had always come to him if there had been a problem in town. But perhaps this was personal? He didn't know which alternative he liked best. Chris drained his glass and followed the couple out of the saloon.
Buck watched as Chris left. His friend had managed to keep up the impassive facade, but he could see the cracks. The grim set of the mouth, the flexing of his hand. Buck knew that Chris had been doing a slow burn the last few days and could boil over at any moment. He just prayed to God Ezra was nowhere nearby when it happened.
+ + + + + + +
"So Emily should be arriving on tomorrow's coach," Mary concluded. "I don't know how you did it, or what your acquaintances said to Mr. Hennessy, but he made the trip to Gramency and everything is all set. Mr. Williams told me that they think they can finish the school house in about a month."
"That is felicitous news," Ezra said. He watched as Mary rubbed her eye again. "Is there something wrong."
"There's something in my eye," Mary mumbled. Ezra could see the tears streaming down her face.
"Here, allow me," Ezra tipped her head back and peered closely into the now red eye.
"Mary, please remain still if you want me to get it out of your eye," Ezra said tersely as Mary continued to fidget.
"Could you please hurry," she begged. "It hurts."
"I can't quite-, here move closer to the window," Ezra said as they shuffled over to the lighted window of The Clarion. He tilted her head back and peered closely into the afflicted eye. "I think I almost have it," he muttered as he finally caught hold of the object and pulled it out.
"What a relief," Mary sighed as her eye began to tear up again.
"It appears it was-,"
Ezra never finished his sentence. He felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder and he was spun around quickly. He stared in surprise into Chris Larabee's coldly angered face which was quickly replaced by the fist that struck his chin a fraction of a second later.
Ezra fell backwards and sat down abruptly. He looked up stunned as Chris reached down for him.
"Chris!" He heard Mary scream as the gunslinger hit him again. He finally realized that he needed to defend himself and held up his arms in a defensive position as Chris continued to rain a hail of fists down on his body.
Chris had seen Ezra and Mary silhouetted by the lighted window. He watched as the gambler tilted her head back in what appeared to be a kiss. The burning fire in his gut erupted and he found himself stalking across the street towards the couple.
When he had first swung him around, the gambler's green eyes widened in surprise and that had only increased his anger. He barely registered the sting in his hands as he continued to hit Ezra. He vaguely heard people telling him to stop, but he ignored the voices and only listened to what the demons were so eagerly whispering into his ear.
Chris felt two pairs of strong hands grasp his arms and drag him off the semi-conscious Ezra who had collapsed onto the ground. Buck and Vin were pinning his arms back as Mary and Nathan kneeled down by the fallen gambler.
Mary looked up at Chris and he saw the angry, blue fire in her eyes. "Why?" she demanded. "Why did you do this?"
He felt the rage go out of him and his arms went limp. Buck and Vin glanced at each other and they eased their grip on his arms.
Nathan looked up at Josiah who had joined him. "Josiah, could you give me a hand getting Ezra up to my room?"
The bigger man nodded and they hauled Ezra up as gently as they could and carried him to Nathan's rooms. Mary followed in their wake after giving Chris another glare.
His anger completely gone, Chris allowed his body to sag. The townsfolk who had gathered began to disperse in whispering groups. Buck looked at his friend in surprise.
"Chris, what the hell were you doing?" demanded Buck. "You damn near killed Ezra!"
Chris gave no answer. He merely picked up his hat which had fallen off during the fight and dusted it off. He placed it on his head and walked towards the saloon.
Buck glanced at Vin who shrugged his shoulders. They followed their friend.
+ + + + + + +
"Well," Nathan said as he finished his examination. "Looks like he may have bruised some ribs, but nothing is broken. Got a black-eye and a swollen lip. Everything else is just bruises and superficial cuts. Not too bad considering."
"Speak for yourself," Ezra drawled out through his swollen lip. "Would someone please explain why Mr. Larabee attacked me? Unprovoked?"
Nathan and Josiah glanced at each other and then at Mary, but remained silent. The look was not lost on the woman.
"Well?" she asked. "Why would Chris do something like this?"
The other two men fidgeted uncomfortably. Nathan became fascinated with the roll of bandages in his hand and Josiah attempted to give the appearance of praying.
"Oh for heaven's sake!" Mary said in exasperation. "I'll find out myself!"
She stamped out of the room and closed the door with enough force to shake the room.
Ezra put a hand delicately on his head. "I do wish she would take care in the way she closes a door.
"And now with Mrs. Travis gone, would one of you gentlemen be so kind as to explain to me why Mr. Larabee decided to make me his own personal whipping boy," Ezra asked again. He looked down at the torn and bloodied ruffled shirt. "And ruin one of my favorite shirts?"
"Chris has been dealing with many vicious demons these past few days," Josiah said wisely as he expertly took off Ezra's boots.
"That still doesn't explain why he decided to focus in on me," was Ezra's plaintive reply. "What did I do to deserve this?"
"Well," Josiah continued. "The biggest demon was the green-eyed monster."
Ezra peered through his good eye at the ex-preacher. "Sir, I resent being called a monster."
"He means Chris was jealous!" Nathan said in exasperation.
"Jealous?" Ezra asked in surprise. "I know I am the most educated of you gentlemen and, well, I'm a gentleman, but it's never bothered him before."
"It ain't because you're a gentleman!" Nathan's patience was about to snap. "It's because of Mrs. Travis."
"Mary?" Ezra was still unable to put the pieces together. "What does she have to do with all this?"
"Look you fool," Nathan said, swinging on the Southerner. "If you haven't notice, Chris likes Mrs. Travis. A lot. Probably more than he knows. How do you think it makes him feel finding out that you've taken to suddenly hanging around her like you're doing some serious courting?"
Ezra stared at Nathan and then looked at Josiah for confirmation. The big man smiled and nodded, shrugging his shoulders in a "who would have thought" attitude.
"But-, but, we're just friends!" Ezra protested. "Who in their right mind would have thought I was courting Mary!"
"Jealousy doesn't put people in their right minds," Josiah continued. He cocked his head to one side and stared intently at the gambler. "Although, these past few days, it is kinda suspicious the way you two have been acting. You mind telling me what that was all about?"
Ezra's mouth closed suddenly and his face took on a mulish look. Nathan and Josiah looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
+ + + + + + +
Mary Travis stormed into the half-full saloon and scanned the inhabitants. She spotted her quarry immediately and stalked over to him, her boots ringing loudly across the room as it fell silent.
"Do you mind telling me why you just assaulted Ezra?" Mary asked, quivering with anger. "You could have beaten him to death."
Chris did not answer her. He merely picked up his glass for another sip of whiskey.
Her anger boiling over, Mary acted without thinking. Her hand lashed out and knocked the glass from Chris' hand.
"Answer me!" she yelled.
Chris straightened up and glared down at her from his greater height. The rest of the patrons and Jim, the bartender, quickly scurried out of the saloon. They did not think even Mary Travis would be able to escape Chris Larabee's anger. Buck made a move to put himself between the two when he was stopped by Vin. The ex-bounty hunter indicated to the other man with a jerk of his chin that they too should leave. Buck nodded and they quietly left Mary and Chris alone.
Chris still did not reply, but merely turned his profile to her and picked up the bottle of whiskey. He was about to drink directly from the bottle when her hand lashed out again and knocked it out of the way.
"You're not going to pass this off as some drunken binge. Now I'm sick of your surly, rude, almighty attitude Chris Larabee! I want some answers and I want them now!"
Maybe he wasn't as sober as he thought he was, but instead of answering her, Chris suddenly reached out and grabbed Mary with startling swiftness. He was acting on some deeper, primal human level. Instinct won out against the cloak of pain he had enveloped himself in the past three years. One hand went behind her head to hold it in place, the other pressed against her back to draw her body up against his. His lips pressed down hard upon hers.
Stunned, Mary could only submit to the sudden assault. When she could think coherently, she realized she was being kissed. His hold on her was firm, but not painful. She could smell and taste the whiskey he had been drinking on his lips. Indignation immediately rose up within her and she began to push away from him.
But she stopped. There was something about that kiss. Hard and invasive as it was, there was an underlying layer of uncertainty. Tenseness. Apprehension. She realized with a shock that Chris Larabee, a man who had never displayed fear or hesitation before, was at that moment very unsure of himself.
Mary had always been a cautious creature, never one to take risk. However, these last few years out West, especially since Steven's death, she had come to the realization that if something was worth it, risks needed to be taken. If it was the right thing, then the consequences be damned.
It took only a second or two for these thoughts to pass through Mary's head. Chris, feeling the coldness in her lips realized the foolishness of his actions and began to withdraw. His progress was stopped as he felt Mary wrap her arms around his neck. Her lips, cold before, became pliant and warm as she kissed him back. Her rigid body relaxed and softened as she molded it against his.
His sigh was an exhale of breath from his nose. Chris held her closer and tentatively parted her lips with his tongue. He felt her start and immediately stopped his progress, waiting for her to lead him as far as she was willing to go. After a small hesitation, she parted her lips. He slowly eased his tongue into her mouth. Hesitantly, he wrapped it around hers and then quickly retreated.
When she felt him part her lips, Mary was surprised. No man, not even Steven, had kissed her like that before. Curious, she had allowed him to continue, wondering what Chris would do next. She felt his tongue twine with hers and managed not to express her surprise in any bodily movement. The caress was extremely sensual and she felt a ripple of energy shoot through her body. He immediately withdrew and she felt her body protest. She knew he was waiting for her to show him what he should do next. Tentatively, she reached forward with her own tongue into his mouth and softly caressed his.
It was the only cue that Chris needed as he gently led her through a duel and kissed Mary Travis as she had never been kissed before. The small moan, low in her throat, increased his ardor and he deepened the kiss, the tongues twining and untwining as he pulled her body closer to his. In that moment, the blackness fled from him like the night in the approaching dawn. As he held her, he felt emotions he thought long since dead and buried rise up again and bathe him in a warm and gentle light. In that kiss, as he held Mary in his arms, Chris Larabee forgot the pain of the last few years and felt as though he could live again.
They had to pull away to catch their breath. Chris looked down into Mary's face. Her blue eyes were glassy and a little unfocused. Her face was flushed a pretty shade of pink. Her lips, red and swollen from the kiss, were slightly parted as she panted for air. A strand of hair had escaped her neat bun and drifted lazily down her face. He thought she had never looked more beautiful.
She stared at him, confusion plain in her face. He was certain that confusion was mirrored in his. He could see her trying to gather her thoughts together as he too tried to sort out what had just happened.
He kissed her. He had just really kissed her. Chris had had many women since Sarah died. Some who were interested in his money and some in him. But they were mere means to satisfy a bodily appetite. Never before Sarah and not since had there been a woman who satisfied his soul. Until now.
It wasn't the completeness he felt with Sarah. He could never hope to gain that ever again. But he felt the raw wounds slashed on his soul heal a bit more. A bit more? Chris realized with a shock that they had been healing since his arrival in Four Corners. For the first time in three years, he had had some other purpose in life. No longer the wandering nomad who found that only whiskey, extreme danger and a soulless hasty coupling would briefly soothe his troubled soul. When the heady rush of adrenaline passed or in the cold dawn's light when he was sober or when he woke next to a woman he had barely known, all the rage, all the pain would come back in full force, mocking him for trying to avoid its grasp. He had now ties. Roots. And other people. The bond he had formed with the other men had helped him unwittingly build his life again. He was grounded. He had found a home.
And Mary. She forced him to reacquaint himself with that side he had tried best to kill off. A side that he thought had died in that fire three years ago. A side that made him care, to live again.
He continued to stare at her. So different from Sarah, yet so much alike. No one in the world except Sarah would have gotten away with slapping a drink from his hand. Until tonight when Mary had done it. Sarah would have done the same. Like Mary, she would have also pressed him for an explanation for his actions. But unlike Sarah, the unforgiving West had hardened Mary in places where Sarah had remained soft and gentle.
No, Sarah could never be replaced. But Chris knew in his heart that the events in his life had changed him so much that another Sarah would not be right for him.
Perhaps it was time to move on.
"Wh-, why did you just kiss me?" Mary stammered out in a breathless whisper. She looked wonderingly into his eyes.
Never adept with words, Chris struggled to describe the tumultuous whirlwind of feelings raging inside of him. She saw this battle reflected on his face as he tried to solidify what he felt.
"I-, I-, you-, we-," he stuttered. He looked helplessly into her face as she patiently waited. In the end, he could only say five simple words that were only one syllable each.
"You make my soul whole."
With that, Chris pulled his hat on and nodded to her. He went out the swinging doors of the saloon and, as he had done so so many times, became one with the black night outside.
Mary could only stare at the space he had occupied a moment before as she stood alone in the empty saloon.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra remained stubbornly closed mouth as Nathan and Josiah helped undress him.
"Still won't tell us what you and Mrs. Travis have been up to?" Nathan asked again.
"I'll tell you what," a female voice called from the doorway.
"Mary, you promised," Ezra said warningly.
Mary Travis entered the room and set a basin and full pitcher of water down on the stand next to Ezra's bed. She poured in some water into the basin and moistened a clean cloth. Gently, she began to wipe some of the blood from Ezra's face.
"I know I promised Ezra, but if people are going to get the wrong idea about you, I need to speak up." She turned on the two standing men. "Ezra has been helping me find a school teacher."
Josiah and Nathan gaped at her. They looked at each other, down at Ezra and back at Mary.
"A school teacher?" Josiah asked. "Ezra?"
"Yes," Mary replied tartly. "And he succeeded where the other fine men in this town failed. She should be arriving in tomorrow's coach."
Josiah had to sit down for this news. "But-, but how?"
"The problem centered around getting an appropriate license for Miss Potter. The superintendent refused to travel that great of distance to administer the test," Ezra explained.
"But how did you help?" Nathan asked.
"I knew a few people who were, ah, acquainted with Mr. Hennessy, the superintendent, and they spoke to him," Ezra replied. He and Mary exchanged a look.
"So," Nathan said slowly as he pieced the puzzle together, "When you ran into the saloon to talk to Ezra, it was about this?"
Mary nodded. "I had just received word that Miss Potter passed the exam and was on her way here. I wanted Ezra to know immediately."
"But what about the combs?" Nathan asked.
"Combs?" Mary and Ezra asked in unison.
"You mean the combs I bought for my mother?" Ezra asked in confusion.
"For your mother? For Maude?" Josiah asked. "But Buck saw Mary wearing the same combs."
Mary looked at Ezra with raised eyebrows. The gambler answered her questioning look, "Ivory with a floral pattern carved on them."
"Oh," Mary said. "I've had those since I was sixteen."
She heard Nathan mutter something that sounded like, "Hit Buck."
Mary blushed suddenly and looked down in her lap. "I had no idea that others may have thought our relationship was based on something else besides friendship."
"Like Chris," Josiah said softly.
Mary looked up at the large man and he saw guilt, anger, doubt and some other emotion that could at worse be termed affection and at best, love, warring in her eyes. "I had no idea," she repeated softly. "None at all."
+ + + + + + +
He was a mere shadow moving into the room that was lighted only by a single lamp near the bed. His black clothing blended him in with the darkness. With an almost catlike grace, he walked quietly to the bed and stared down at the man on it.
Chris winced as he looked into Ezra's face and saw the damage he had wrecked there. Even in his rage, he remembered the desire to mar the handsome face of the man he though Mary Travis had fallen in love with. Right now, he looked anything but handsome with a swollen upper lip and black eye and other assorted cuts and bruises.
Ezra seemed to sense the other man's presence and woke up. He saw a black shadow hanging over him. As his sleep covered eyes adjusted in the dim lamplight, he realized it was Chris.
"Mr. Larabee," he said, the insolent southern drawl unaffected by the beating. "Have you come to finish the job?"
The slight flicker of his body passed as a wince for Chris. "No," he said quietly. "I ain't here to hurt you anymore. I came to," and the unaccustomed words stuck a little in his throat, "Say I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" pressed Ezra. "The beating? Or for what you thought my relationship with Mary Travis was?"
"I'm sorry for hitting you," Chris mumbled. He paused for a moment. "And I'm sorry for interfering with you and Mary. If you're what Mary wants, I won't stand in the way."
The uncontrollable urge to laugh overwhelmed Ezra and he began to chuckle until he realized it hurt too much. However, he could not control the shaking of his body.
Chris looked at him suspiciously. "What's so funny?" he demanded.
"You," snickered Ezra. "Buck, Josiah, Nathan, the whole lot of you. What in the world made you think there was anything between me and Mary?"
"Well, you've been spending an awful lot of time together. And-, and this evening when you kissed her outside of The Clarion," stuttered Chris.
"First," Ezra said as he eased himself up into a sitting position. "There was no kiss, if it's any of your business. I was merely removing some obstruction in Mary's eye. And second, the only relationship I have with Mary Travis is friendship."
"Friends?" Chris asked doubtfully.
"Is it so outside the realm of possibility that I might actually have a friend?" Ezra asked sarcastically, although there was a layer of anxiety that Chris did not hear.
"No," he said slowly. "But why Mary?"
"And why not?" Ezra shot back. He winced a little as he shifted. "Mr. Larabee, I hate to tell you, but you have no claims on the woman. Oh you may have managed to scare off the majority of the male population from her. Yes," he continued as he saw Chris about to protest. "You have. What sane man is going to attempt to court Mary after all the attention you've paid her."
"We're only discussing business," Chris muttered.
"Well, just as you thought I was courting her when I was merely being a friend, I suppose other people might consider your attentions to her to be of a romantic nature." Ezra shot back sarcastically. He looked at Chris. "Or perhaps that is what precipitated your rather false conclusion of my relationship to Mary?"
Chris glared at him but didn't reply. Ezra settled back against the pillows and smiled. He knew he had hit a nerve somewhere. Coupled that with the beating and the false presumptions about him, he could milk this for months. Out of all the men, Chris probably had the least respect for him, not trusting him as far as he could throw him. And, in all honesty, in the early part of their relationship, Ezra had given him very little reason to trust him. However, the southerner believed that he had more than proven his loyalty these past few months. This was a nice, harmless way to get back at the gunslinger.
A look that was a combination of fear and indecision crossed Chris's features; two emotions Ezra had never seen displayed before. He felt sorry for Chris, knowing that games of the heart were never fun when one was on the losing side, or thought he was on the losing side. For a man like Chris Larabee, it could be devastating.
"As far as I know Mr. Larabee," Ezra said. "The only men that Mrs. Travis cares for is Billy and Judge Travis."
Chris looked over at the man who's face he had wanted to rearrange that night. He saw the sincerity in Ezra's eyes, although he was never certain when the man was lying to him. However, there was no gain for him to do so. Chris merely nodded, acknowledging what Ezra had tried to do.
"Get well Ezra. Get some rest." Chris said quietly. As noiselessly as he had entered, he slipped back out again.
Ezra stared at the closed door a moment and then snorted. "Easy for you to say, you're not the one who's black and blue." Gingerly, he eased himself back down again.
+ + + + + + +
The fishing hole was peaceful. It had become Chris's private spot ever since he came to Four Corners. It was a place where he could escape from life and regroup. A place that the shadows dared not come. It gained extra meaning when he brought young Billy Travis here.
He looked out into the western sky. The sun had begun its slow descent. It had saved its most magnificent show for this time.
The sound of an approaching horse disturbed the peace and he turned annoyed eyes to the rider. The waning light shone upon the hair of the second person, creating a golden halo. He knew of only one person with hair that color.
Mary Travis rode up to where he had tethered his horse. She swung off her brown mare and tied her lines next to Chris's black mount. Slowly, she picked her way over to where Chris stood quietly waiting for her by the water's edge.
"I've been looking for you since last night," Mary said quietly.
'I've been riding," Chris replied. He turned his head back towards the sunset. "I came out here for some peace."
"Nathan says Ezra will be fine," Mary said after a brief silence.
"I know. Saw him last night." He bowed his head a moment. "I apologized."
"I know," Mary said softly. "He told me."
"And I think I owe you an apology too," Chris said as he looked back into her face. "I'm sorry for thinking that about you and Ezra. It was none of my business in the first place who you're friends with. And I apologize for what happened in the saloon."
"I accept your apology for the Ezra incident, but I can't for the kiss in the saloon." Chris looked at her in surprise and she smiled. "Chris Larabee, it wasn't as if I was pushing you away." She saw him smile quickly as he remembered last night. "I think you just finally did what we both have been thinking for a while."
His eyes became haunted again and he turned away once more. "It's all a jumbled mess inside of me Mary. I don't know what I'm doing anymore or what I want." He looked back at her. "I don't know if I can be what you want me to be."
Mary moved forward and touched his arm. "I know what you mean. And before you say I don't," Mary said quickly before Chris could protest. "Hear me out.
"I do know what you're going through. The guilt. The wondering at night, why I'm alive and Steven is dead. Wondering if I had been there, could I have prevented it? What if I had come home sooner?
"You think I'm in a better position than you are because I still have Billy and yes I won't deny that. But I'm also a woman. Picking up pieces is not an easy task and it's especially hard for a woman.
"Do you know what I went through when I decided to continue on with The Clarion? Do you know what I still go through? The cold shoulders, the resentment of both men and women. And I try Chris. I do try. I try to print what I think is right. The stories on Indian rights and the equal treatment of people of other races. Do you know how frightening and painful it is to be on the unpopular side?
"And being associated with the seven of you has not been a picnic either. While I have no problem with any of you men, you know that many of the townsfolk feel differently. Have you any idea the arguments we get into in town meetings? How I've defended all of you?
"No, I can't know exactly what you're going through and I can't say whether it's been harder for you or for me. But then again, you can't say that either."
The speech had cost Mary and she looked weary and pale. When he did not respond, Mary turned slowly around and started to walk back to her horse.
Chris caught her arm and stopped her. She turned around and looked at him in surprise. He drew her closer to him and his other hand grasped her other arm.
"When Sarah and Adam died," Chris said haltingly, those hateful words coming out in the open, "I died too. Everything was gone. My life, my heart, my soul. I didn't give a damn if I lived or died." He licked his lips and continued. "I had lost my way. I just didn't care anymore."
"Then I came here. And I saw this woman stand up against a wagon load of men who were trying to hang an innocent man. I asked myself why did this woman care so much about this man that she was willing to risk her own life? And a part of me that I thought was dead said, because it's the right thing."
He looked into her eyes where tears had begun to well. "That was the moment Mary when I began to care again."
Two wet tracks of tears streamed down her face. He moved his hands up from her arms to the sides of her face. His callused and hard hands touched for the first time her skin, so soft that he thought he was touching silk. His thumbs lightly brushed away the tears.
"I can't forget the past Mary," he continued. "But I do think I can move on." He looked at her anxiously. "If you'll help me?"
She smiled a watery smile and not trusting her voice, nodded her head.
And as if to seal the bargain, Chris brought her face towards his and gently kissed her with a kiss that was sweet and tender and full of possibilities.
The sun reached its bed and the night sky became a purple field. Random diamonds of starlight made their appearance as the shadowy demons disappeared with the sun.
The End
