Trust - Part 2

"If you can't trust him any longer, he has to leave," Chris insisted with a gravel voice.

"Ya knew this would happen right from the start, didn't you?" Vin didn't like the options that were presented. This had been just between him and Ezra, but now it involved Chris as well.

"He's a cheat, that's why he's with us." Larabee simply stated. "But I always hoped that he was smart enough to know where to stop."

"I should have been on my toes," Vin sighed. "He's not the only one who didn't know when to stop."

"Nothing wrong with trusting someone," Chris shot him a serious look. "Can save your life."

"Or get you killed."

"True."

For a long moment, only the sounds of the night could be heard.

"You never bothered to ask if I wanted to leave," the Texan suddenly said.

Chris's heart beat faster with anxiety. "You'd trade and go in his place?"

"Thought about it, yes," Vin admitted.

"What changed your mind?"

"Dunno. Guess I figured my chances to survive are a bit better here than elsewhere," Vin smiled and Chris let go of the air he had been unconsciously holding. "'sides, didn't want to spoil yer chance to collect that bounty if I'm wrong."

Larabee shot him a dark look and snorted. "I'd rather have you watch my back than collecting that bounty."

Vin's smile broadened at this. "Same here, cowboy."

"Let me know about Ezra. I want this out of my hair," the dark clad gunslinger turned the conversation back to its origin. The smile on Tanner's face fell.

"You know he wants to leave at dawn?"

"No," Chris raised his brows.

"You'll let him go?" Tanner felt the queasy gut feeling return that had been there on and off ever since his talk to Ezra.

"I don't think I have much of a choice.," Chris shrugged. "'sides, better he goes than I have to throw him out of town."

"That stubborn son of a bitch is more trouble than he's worth," the tracker grumbled and Chris pursed his lips.

"Well, it's between you and him, Vin."

With that, Larabee left Tanner to his thoughts. He didn't like to lose Ezra like this, but the Southern cuss had crossed a line. Chris would be lying if he'd claim that he wasn't angry about how reckless and careless Standish had endangered Vin's life. Maybe it had been a mistake to give the man a second chance.

"Ezra?" Buck's voice sounded through the dimly lit livery. "That you, pard?"

"Yes, Mr. Wilmington." Ezra sighed, disappointed that he had been detected.

"What are you doing up at this hour? Late game?" Buck knew that it hadn't been that. Ezra hadn't been at his usual table or at any other gambling table anywhere in town all evening.

"No, Mr. Wilmington. I'm readying my mount." He tried to keep his voice leveled, ban the anguish from it that he was feeling. But it was no good. Years of Maude's training, a lifetime of rigid self control, all had went out of the window when he had overheard the conversation between Chris and Vin. Not that he had been eavesdropping, he had just been on his way to inform Larabee about his impending departure. Now Ezra wished he had just left a note. Chris's words had left an impact, had smarted more than he cared to admit. "I'm leaving this sorry excuse for a town."

Buck shot him a query glance, glad that he had followed his gut feeling and started his early morning rounds a bit earlier than usual. "Leaving?!"

The complete and utter disbelieve in the womanizer's voice draw a thin smile to Ezra's lips. "You heard correctly, Mr. Wilmington. My days as a lawman are over."

"Chris kicked you out because of Vin?" Anger laced the words before Buck could bit it back. He had been following what was going on, hoped that everything would snap back together, but instead things seemed to have taken a turn to the worse. The expression on the gambler's face only confirmed what he was thinking. "That ain't right. You meant no harm."

The gambler took a deep, calming breath before he answered. It had been only a matter of time until everyone would find out about his role in the drama, but Wilmington never stopped to amaze him. The man was more than his easy-going attitude showed. "Mr. Larabee didn't kick me out, as you put it. It's my own choice to leave. The... situation in town has become unprofitable for my purposes."

"Sure, tell me another one," Buck muttered, watching how Standish saddled Chaucer. He had seen how much the stubborn Southerner had suffered from the past few days, but he had also seen what it was doing to Vin. Trust broken meant pain, in this case for both sides. "What's wrong with you, Ezra?"

"Look at me and you know what's wrong," the Southerner looked up from his work. Why did this have to be so difficult? "Tell me, what do you see when you look at me?"

Buck grinned. "A con man and gambler..."

"Thank you, Mr. Wilmington. That was what I wanted to hear." Ezra's shoulders slumped, there was an intense display of emotions in his eyes. Buck had just stated the facts. He was a con man and gambler, no ifs and buts. Not so long ago, he'd been proud of his trade. He still was proud of his skills. And why shouldn't he? It had helped him to survive, he was one of the best. Then why was this tearing him apart like this? Four Corners was just another dustbowl, just another set of people who had been marks, only served one purpose for Ezra: too keep him alive. Friends? No one would befriend him. He was the cheat, that was why Larabee had dragged him along to the Seminole village in the first place. Yes, he had been tolerated in the group as long as he stayed within their rules, but he had transgressed the thin line and now stood alone again. It was like it had always been, how it would always be. The hard-earned poker face slipped into position and erased all trace of the turmoil.

"Ezra..." Buck's grin turned into a warm smile. "You didn't let me finish."

"What more would you like to add to the list, Mr. Wilmington?" Standish's voice was soft, not betraying the bitterness and desperation that threatened to overwhelm him. "Felon? Cheat? Selfish bastard? Good-for-nothing scrounger? I assure you that I'm familiar with all the numerous monikers for someone like me."

Buck gave him a thoughtful look. "Actually, I wanted to say that you're a con man and gambler who cares much more than it is good for someone in your job. And I see a friend who I don't want to miss."

Ezra gaped. He must be hallucinating.

"And I wondered," Buck continued cordially. "If my friend the con man and gambler would like to share a drink or two with me. It's a special brand, the present of a lovely lady."

"He might," Standish croaked. Sure, he had promised to leave at dawn, but what harm could it do to accept a free drink? Besides, it would maybe numb him enough so that saying good bye would become a bit easier. "So... where's that famous potion the lady presented to you?"

With a mischief grin that sparkled in his eyes, Buck slapped the Southerner's back, lead him to the box that stabled his horse and pulled out a bottle from the saddlebag, unscrewed it and handed it to Ezra.

Vin hadn't found much sleep in this night. Before dawn broke, he was up and wandered through town aimlessly. He saw Ezra going for the livery and sighed.

"Brother Vin?"

Startled, Tanner spun around to look into Sanchez' smiling face. "Josiah, you got to stop sneaking up on people like that."

"A herd of buffaloes could have trampled passed you and wouldn't have noticed," the ex preacher chuckled. "Something bothering you?"

"People," Vin simply said. "Just can't figure 'em out."

"People can be a riddle, indeed." Josiah agreed.

"Thought I could trust 'im. Next ya know is he's backstabbin' ya."

A trace of resignation swung in Tanner's voice and Sanchez raised his eyebrows. "It sounds like you care about that lost sheep anyway."

"Yeah," Vin smirked. "That's what bothers me. Thought he was more than that facade he's so proud of."

"Maybe it's what he was raised to do," Josiah suggest. He couldn't and wouldn't make an apology for what the Southerner had done, but he felt that Ezra was capable of growing beyond what he was now.

"Doesn't he care? Is money worth more than friends?"

"That, brother Vin, is something you have to ask your wayward brother."

"Don't want to see him go, Josiah." Vin rubbed his chin. "But there's no say when he'll turn on one of us next time."

"You know, there once was a man in Texas who wanted to travel from Fort Duncan to Fort Bliss, but he didn't have a horse nor did he know the way. So he rented a mount and asked the owner to lead the direction. The day was hot and the sun stood in the zenith when the travelling pair decided to make a stop. The traveler sought shelter from the burning sun under the shadow of the mount, but the owner wanted to get his hide out of the heat as well. Unfortunately, the shadow afforded only enough protection for one, and soon the traveler and the owner began fighting over who would be allowed to sit under the animal. Their quarrel turned violent, and while the men fought, the scared mount galloped off and they were both without shelter."

Vin looked at his fellow peacekeeper with a puzzled expression. "You say, I'm going to lose what's really important because I'm quarrelling over a small thing?"

"Wouldn't call trust a small thing. But maybe you're missing what's really going on." Sanchez explained cryptically.

Tanner opened his mouth in protest, then closed it again. Josiah might have a point.

Ezra leaned back on the stack of hay, stretched himself and smiled contently at his drinking companion. Wilmington sat next to him, the slight reddening of his cheeks and glassy expression of his eyes telltale signs of too much alcohol consumption in too short a time. Not much of a surprise after they had shared three bottles of Ms. Cynthia's quite excellent token of love amongst themselves. The gambler giggled incoherently, ignoring the drowsiness and slight tilting of the room.

"Mr. Wilmington," alcohol tangled with his control over his muscles and the slurred speech was about as uncoordinated as the swaying steps with which Ezra rescued himself to the next wall. "I'm afraid I have to bid my far..far..wells."

"No!" Buck climbed to his feet slowly, heaving a dramatic sigh. This better came out right, or Standish wouldn't buy it. "The town won't be the same without you."

"It's for the best of all of us, I ensu-sure you...ow!" Ezra lost balance and landed on his behind with a solid smack. "I seem to have lost my equili-li-li-brium."

Vin had picked this moment to enter the livery. He hadn't expected Standish to be still around, but he didn't mind the fact. When he had noticed the drunken bunch in the rear of the stable, he shook his head and grinned. Ezra wouldn't ride anywhere today, that much was sure.

Buck noticed the tracker's presence and shot him a quick look. A smile crept on his face when he saw that the anger that had seemed to dominate Vin through the past week had dissipated. With a brief nod telling that the situation was under control, he dismissed Vin. Standish was the one who needed his full attention now. Wilmington wasn't exactly sober, but neither was he as drunk as Ezra thought. Heaven knew why Jackson had agreed to take part in the plan Buck and JD had come up with last night. 'Figure its best if Ezra just leaves,' Nathan had handed Buck the small bottle with a pleading smile expressing the contrary of what he had said. Maybe the healer just liked the chance to chew out the obstinate Southerner once in a while. Buck had ensured that the slippery gambler got his fair share of one of Nathan's brews. It was only a matter of time until the con man would have to surrender to its effects. "We need you here. You're our friend."

"Friend?" Ezra laughed at the absurdity, trying to focus on the older man. "Ain't no one's friend but my own, Mr. Wilmington."

With a sad snicker he added: "Can't afford friends in my pro-profession. Price's too high."

Buck studied the anguished features for a long moment. Though he had only seen the gambler really intoxicated on a few occasions, he knew that Ezra could be a mean drunk. But today didn't seem to be one of those days. All Buck saw were the pent up feelings surfacing in a parade, a mixture between hurt, anger, frustration and deep reaching sadness. "Maybe. But is being alone any better?"

"I won't need a heart and a soul when I'm alone. To much of a hassle, Mr. Wilmington..." Ezra's eyes drooped and he began to loose the fight against sleep. "I'll leave soon. Tell Mr. Tanner I just take a quick nap..."

Standish's voice trailed off and soon, only a soft snoring could be heard.

Vin had watched the scene, thoughts circling through his head like a swarm of angry wasps. The warning voices were shouting and yelling, his softer side wanted to embrace both Buck and Ezra in a brotherly hug while his survival instinct told him that this was stupid and suicidal. In short, he was in the middle of conflicting interests and feelings, pulling him in different direction. Vin sat down next to Buck and Ezra in the hay with a sigh. He needed to think. "Yer have some of that whiskey left?"

Chris Larabee stood in the livery and couldn't help but laugh at the image that presented itself. Cuddled together like kids, Buck and Ezra snored peacefully in the haystack.

Vin sat next to the unaware sleepers and grinned from one ear to the other. "Cute, ain't they?"

"I think, our brothers will not think kindly of us if we make fun of them while they're the land of dreams," Josiah's full belly laughter echoed through the boxes.

"They look so innocent... Both of them," JD observed, unable to keep himself from giggling.

"Innocent, my ass!" Nathan clucked, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "C'mon, let's wake our sleeping beauties before Yosemite sells tickets."

Chris nodded and gently shook Wilmington. Waking Ezra would probably require the help of some cold water, according to Nathan. "Bucklin... wakey wakey..."

"Not now, Cynthia..." came the muffled answer from the womanizer and he draped his arm over Standish's chest possessively.

The five remaining peacekeeper exchanged looks, then laughter roared through the livery, which stirred Buck.

"Cynthia, darling..." He smiled seductively. Someone must've had a fun time down in the saloon, he thought, as another wave of infernal laughter assaulted his ears. Bucks eyes opened lazily, expecting to look into the handsome face of his latest paramour. In the matter of instants, Wilmington realized that this was neither Miss Cynthia's bed nor was she person in his closest proximity. "Ezra?!"

Whinnying laughter erupted around Buck and confused, he looked into the amused faces of his friends. Quickly, he withdrew his arm from the gambler's chest and brought himself into a more decent, sitting position. It was a mistake, as nausea and a splitting headache announced immediately. "Owwww..."

"Enjoyed the company, Bucklin?" Chris asked with a wide grin, receiving a murderous glance in return.

"That's all your fault, Tanner," Wilmington groaned. "You wanted to open that last bottle..."

Vin tried to flex the cramped muscles around his mouth. He hadn't laughed that wholeheartedly in a long time, the mixture of alcohol and comedy of the situation easily breaching his usual serious shell. "Yer were so eager to share that bottle, there hardly was anythin' left, Buck."

"Not true," the older man protested with a grimace.

Chris shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to stifle another round of chuckles that threatened to escape. "Stow your gap and get up, boys. Time to wake Ezra."

Through all the tohuwabohu, the gambler had slept deeply, oblivious as to what was going around him thanks to the Whiskey and Nathan's sleeping concoction.

"Better get his guns," Josiah cautioned. "No say how brother Ezra will react."

A few minutes later, Standish was disarmed and the buckets with water were ready for action.

"You know... this isn't fair," JD felt somewhat sorry for the snoring gambler.

"Kid's right," Buck gleefully agreed and exchanged conspiratorially glances with the others.

"Trough?" Chris suggested.

"Trough," Vin confirmed.

"He won't like that," Nathan objected. "And neither do I."

"And here I was thinking you wouldn't care about our gambling brother, Nathan," Josiah mocked good humored.

"Who said I care?" Jackson retorted with a chuckle. "Just don't want that stubborn cuss to catch a cold and annoy me all day."

They finally agreed that the jail would be a decent place for Standish to sleep off the effects of his early morning carouse.

Ezra woke with a start. It took his foggy mind a moment to realize where he was. The jail? How had he ended up in jail? What had he done now? Livery, he had gone to the livery... He remembered drinking with Buck, talking, then... nothing. Ezra was dizzy, his head felt ready to explode, his stomach ached and churned. In short: he was miserable.

"Afternoon, Ezra."

The ailing gambler didn't have to look at Chris Larabee to know that the man was grinning. Heck, the man's entire voice was laced with obvious amusement.

'Figures', Ezra thought sourly. 'I'm in my dying bed and Mr. Heartless Larabee thinks this is funny.' With a groan, he turned around so that he was lying on his back on the small cot. The movement made the world spin and his queasy stomach informed him that another alteration of his position would not be tolerated without retribution. He closed his eyes again, heard the shuffling of feet, then the familiar sound of Chris's steps as the gunslinger made his way from the sheriff's desk to the cell.

"Stay awake, Ezra. You've slept long enough."

When Chris gently shook him, the Southerner's lids snapped open and he glared a 'cease' warning. Through a dry throat and parched lips, he croaked with a husky voice: "Leave me alone, Mr. Larabee."

Chris smiled knowingly. Hangovers made a man wish he was dead. "Here, drink this."

Ezra studied at the contents of the cup that the dark clad leader of the seven offered him. "Water?"

"Yep. "

"You don't happen to have some more of that excellent whiskey Mr. Wilmington shared with me this morning?" Standish disappointedly queried, but nevertheless accepted the water and drank it slowly.

"Make that yesterday morning." The smile on Larabee's face spread to a full grin as he continued: "And Miss Cynthia refused to restock Buck."

"A shame. It was an excellent brand," the Southerner commented dryly, trying to piece together the information he had been given so far. Then he frowned. "Did you say yesterday?"

"Yep." Chris didn't mention that he and the others had been worried for a while that Standish wouldn't wake up at all. They even had reconsidered to throw him into the big trough behind the livery.

Ezra's frown deepened. "May I inquire why I am incarcerated? Did I transgress any laws in my intoxicated condition?"

"Other than being cozy in the hay with Buck? No, not really."

The gambler's eyes widened in horror at the implications. He groaned in embarrassment and could feel himself blushing deeply. Cozy in the hay with Buck?!? This wasn't happening. He never was, never would be one of the 'funny' kind. In the hay with Buck. Being cozy. He shuddered. The image alone made him feel sick. What had been in that Whiskey? "You're jesting me, aren't you?"

"No." Chris chuckled when he saw the blush deepening. And here he had thought that nothing could make Ezra feel ashamed. "Just ask the other guys."

Mortified, Standish closed his eyes. This must be a dream, he determined then. Yes, a bad dream.

"Don't worry, Ezra," Larabee decided that enough was enough. "Vin watched over you and Buck the whole morning and said you were all behaving nicely, sleeping like little angels."

"He did?" The gambler sighed in relief until he realized that it still would mean endless jokes and teasing for the next few weeks. "I assume that I might have to thank Mr. Tanner for protecting my reputation, then."

"You might. But Vin's out at the Seminole village," Chris gave the cardsharp a regretful look. "Should be back in a few days, though."

Ezra just nodded. Scolding, the memory of why he had ended up drinking with Buck resurfaced, of how yet another of his promises was broken. He had given his word to leave town at dawn, and even such a simple thing had proven to be too much to accomplish. Vin probably would refuse to talk to him. "I don't think I'll still be here by time when Mr. Tanner returns to this humble abode. That is, unless I'm under arrest, of course."

"You're free as a bird, Ezra. Just didn't want you to mess up your bed or Nathan's clinic."

According to the putrid stench of his stained shirt and the bucket next to the cot, Ezra had to agree with the dark clad gunslinger. The jail was the obvious choice to handle a drunk. "Thanks, Mr. Larabee. I'll just clean myself up before I leave."

Chris nodded, feeling sad. He knew he couldn't force the gambler to stay and maybe it really was the best to make sure that there was a lot of distance between Ezra and the rest of this merry gang of peacekeepers. "Won't tell you what to do, but why don't you wait until tomorrow? 's going to be dark in a short while."

Standish pondered the offer for a moment. If he was honest about it, he dreaded to leave. Besides, he was feeling lousy and resting until the next day would make the hours of dusty trail that lay ahead bearable. "I'll consider it, Mr. Larabee."

With an effort, Ezra got up and left the jail, his mind numb with clashing feelings and wandering, contrary thoughts.

Laughter and play, innocently and full of the untamed energy that only children had, sounded through the Seminole village. Vin Tanner smiled and dismounted.

The meal Ezra had purchased would have smelled tempting - on any other day. Right now, however, the scent of steak and eggs was nothing but repulsive. The gambler felt his stomach rebelling at the thought of food. He shoved back the plate and sighed, glad that he had followed Larabee's suggestion and stayed in town. Standish knew that he was not quite himself, he even had walked out of jail without noticing that he was unarmed. Fortunately, Chris had called him back and handed him the guns, giving him a strange look at the same time. Ezra wished that his usual unflappable, rigid mask of indifference, carelessness and self control was still functional, not the tattered remains he had to work with now. Without the appearance of invincibility it offered, Standish felt vulnerable, exposed to the harsh realities that he had evaded successfully for most of his mature life.

"Hey Ezra," Buck greeted good humored smile and took the seat opposite to the Southerner.

"Mr. Wilmington," Standish acknowledged, wondering what the ladies' man wanted. "How are you faring tonight?"

"By the looks of it, better than you," Buck smiled, his eyes hungrily lingering on the full plate of cooling food. "You going to finish that?"

Ezra raised his eyebrows. He wondered why he had never noticed how much of a scavenger the older man was when it came to victuals. "Help yourself. I find myself a bit below par tonight."

"Thanks, pard." With a grateful nod, Buck began to eat.

Standish watched the scene quietly, trying to keep the sadness at bay that lurked in the shadows of his mind. He had to admit to himself that, the longer he stayed, the thought of just trying to con his way back into the uneven group became more and more tempting. The gambler had managed it before, he should be able to do it again. Especially when most of his... acquaintances had, in their own way, tried to keep him back. Buck didn't want him to leave. JD had asked him to stay. Josiah had expressed his hope that the lost sheep might find its way back to the herd, even Chris and Nathan had accepted the news about his impending departure mirthlessly. Ezra had to admit that he was surprised. This was not what he had expected, especially not after what he had done to Vin. He had thought that everyone would be more than happy to see him go, maybe even encourage him with a pep talk or some more physical arguments. That was something he was used to, something he had experienced over and over again in the countless towns that lined up on his aimless wanderings through the country like pearls on a string. This was different, and he didn't know why. Did the others really see more in him than an unscrupulous gambler, a drifter who never bothered to look back? Ezra watched Buck, wondering if the womanizer's words were meant seriously. 'I see a friend who I don't want to miss.' A friend... someone who was welcomed and appreciated, who was loved and cared about despite the flaws. Also someone who could end up in embarrassing situations in the hay after imbibing too many libations. If the others would ever let Buck live down yesterday's incidents? Probably not. The gambler couldn't help but smirk.

Buck felt the Southerner's gaze resting on him, saw the dimpled grin and speculated on what caused the other's sudden amusement. Silent communication, born out of survival instinct and groomed into an every day tool between him and Standish, did its work and it soon dawned to Buck what was on his friend's mind.

For a brief moment, the two very different men stared at each other, both considering if what the others had been telling them could be true, and if it was true, what if they really had... Both laughed, shaking their heads.

"Naw... no way," Buck emphasized, his smile showing in his eyes.

Ezra nodded in agreement, glad that they both agreed on the matter. "My sentiments exactly, Mr. Wilmington."

"Good, that's settled then," Buck's smile deepened and he returned his attention back to the steak on his plate.

"Indeed. Who knows where it would have ended otherwise." Standish easily slipped into the game, knowing that Wilmington was a commendable opponent. But tonight, he would let him win the contest of wits. For what it was worth, he didn't want to part at odds with a man who had offered the hand of friendship to a cheat.

Friendship. A concept that, to the gambler, was nothing but a distant dream, something that had to be eyed warily because it could prove a serious disadvantage. Friendship, Ezra knew, would make him loose his edge, force him into caring for others, would make him vulnerable to all types of blackmail and maybe even would make him leap into the path of a bullet meant for another some day. Nothing he really desired. But then there was the other side of friendship, one that baited with promises that the part of him that had been forced into silence and submission for so many years was only to willing to believe. He had long denied the existence of this part, but now it was back, stronger than ever, and Ezra knew that he wouldn't be the same again. Also, he wasn't sure if the damage done to the delicate balance of lies and necessities that kept him alive and going could ever be repaired. One thing he was sure about: The Ezra Standish who had rode into Four Corners a couple of months ago no longer existed.

"And this hat is our most popular model, Mr. Standish." Mrs. Potter showed him the item.

Ezra shook his head. "It's very lovely, Mrs. Potter, but I'm afraid that Mr. Tanner wouldn't wear it."

"Ah... so this hat is for Vin?" The elderly shop owner smiled when Standish nodded. "Wait a minute, I might just have what you're looking for."

She disappeared into the storage room, leaving Ezra to his own thoughts. His horse was already saddled and he had packed his few belongings into the saddlebags. He had come to Mrs. Potter's shop to buy a few cans and other food, but when he had seen the hats on display, an idea had crossed his mind. Not that Vin would trust him any more if he'd presented him a hat similar to the one ruined, but at least he'd made up for some of the damage. The gamblers green eyes gazed through the always open shop door over Main Street.

Funny how quickly he had gotten used to the small town. On the opposite sidewalk, Ezra could see Buck and JD, patrolling and bantering. Would the town continue to grow? Would young JD ever make it to be a Texas Ranger? And the others... what fate was waiting for them? He found that he really wanted to know, really cared about this bunch of people whose past was almost as checkered as his own. Well, maybe his own past was a tad more checkered. Ezra smiled sadly. Four Corners and the six law keepers were no longer any of his business. However, his heart found this simple piece of information that his mind supplied impossible to believe. His heart just wanted one thing, and it poisoned his thoughts and will with a constant nagging and begging that slowly tore his precious self control. His heart wanted to stay.

"Mr. Standish?" Mrs. Potter addressed the distracted Southerner for the second time, hiding her amused smile. Though she sometimes wondered which side of the law the young man was on, she also knew that he had tried to keep evil away from her and her children. Now, the usual self-secure gambler looked somewhat lost, like the way he had finally found had disappeared again in a thick wall of impenetrable fog.

"My apologies."

The friendly, dimpled smile was back, but it didn't reach Standish's eyes. Mrs. Potter saw sorrow in them, destroyed hopes and other things she couldn't pin down. "A man traded this hat and some other things about two months ago for food. It's just like the one Vin loves so much."

Standish put on a pleased expression. "That's excellent. I'd like to purchase it. How much do I owe?"

"All in all a dollar twenty-three cents."

Ezra paid the amount due, grabbed his supplies and the hat and turned to go. "Have a good day, Mrs. Potter."

The ride to the Seminole village was long and soon Ezra was covered in a fine layer of dust. Automatically, he scanned the horizon for riders. Not that he was worried that one of his former colleagues would follow him. The five had gathered when he was about to leave, each bid their farewell, and each of them sad to see him go. Chris had actually gone as far as to say that Ezra should pay them a visit if he ever happened to be in the area again.

Ezra felt a pang of regret, grudgingly admitting to himself that he'd miss Larabee and the others. No one would bother to watch his back now, not to mention that Ezra had picked up some habits in the brief time that would be hard to exorcise. He wondered if the aching emptiness that spread inside him would ever be filled with something else than more whiskey, countless card games with strangers and the quest for money. The gambler frowned, realizing that he was helplessly tangled up in the net of his own emotions, with the fat spider 'friendship' just waiting to devour him. It dawned to him that he had run open-eyed into the trap that was set up for him, even thinking he could manipulate the situation, play with his marks and use them for his own purposes. But who had played whom? Damn Larabee and his second chances.

Vin Tanner was looking forward to return to Four Corners. A little over two months ago, the small town along with the Seminole settling, had marked a turning point in his life. For the first time in a long while, he thought that the streak of bad luck that had seem to follow him around had finally run out. The group of six individuals he had met, though annoying sometimes, had offered a feeling of security, protection and belonging that he had thought lost.

The instinctive, deep friendship that connected him with Chris Larabee was another reason that the tracker had chosen to stay. But Vin had also found trustworthy companions in the others, friends who we could - and would - trust with his life. Even Ezra, despite of what had happened.

The Texan sighed. The slippery con man would be his death one day, he was sure of that. Just why couldn't the stubborn mule see how much he was throwing away over a handful of dollars? But how he lead his life was Ezra's own choice, and if the fool decided to turn his back on the only true values then Tanner had to accept his choice.

Vin briefly wondered if Standish had already left town, or if he was still too groggy after drinking too much of Buck's special Whiskey. By the time Tanner had left Four Corners, Ezra had still been sound asleep. Maybe the gambler would try to buy himself another day or two, pretending to be sick...

"Mr. Tanner?"

The sound Ezra's soft Southern drawl caught Vin by surprise. He hadn't noticed the cardsharp approaching, nor had he considered the possibility of him showing up here in the Seminole village. He frowned. "What are ya doing here?"

"I..." Ezra searched for words. He had expected the reaction, anticipated the rejection he thought he saw in Tanner's face, but it still hurt. "I know it's not yours, but..."

Vin studied the hat Standish had handed him. He hesitated a moment when memories about how he had lost his old headwear resurfaced, but then put it on. "Thanks."

Ezra noticed the hesitation, and his her sank. He had hoped that the peace offering would be able to mend at least some part of the broken bridge of communication between them. The loneliness that he had managed to keep at bay now jumped into the breach of his shattered self. Ezra realized that he wouldn't be able to turn this situation around. No conning, no lies and no truths would do the trick of resolving Vin's antipathy. It was time to close this chapter of his life and leave before he'' mess up things even worse than they were already. "Mr. Tanner..."

Vin looked at him with a blank expression, and the gambler shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. He hated not being able to tell what was going on in another person's head. Ezra's facade of smiles, politeness and indifference crumbled right in front of his eyes, revealing a much more vulnerable Ezra Standish. "Yes, Ezra?"

"I... " Standish's nerves were laying bare, he felt skittish and wanted nothing more than just turn on his heels and escape from his troubles. But if he had wanted to run, why was he standing here, feeling like an idiot? "I realize that you have a less than stellar opinion of me. I'm also aware that my recent decisions might have lead you to some assumptions about my character that are probably correct."

Tanner raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. Ezra could tell that the Texan wasn't interested any more in the fairy tale type of apologies Ezra could make up with the same ease and practice which with he shuffled his cards. Unfortunately, Vin neither seemed interested in the truth. It was a no-win scenario.

"And what would those assumptions be?" Vin couldn't stop himself from asking. He had watched Standish's slow unraveling right in front of his eyes with interest, remembered what the gambler had said in the livery.

Ezra swallowed, once again brought out of balance by the tracker. "That I'm not someone you'd like to have around you."

He rubbed the back of his neck, not daring to face Tanner's eyes as he continued quietly: "I made a grave mistake of judgement in Whitewater."

Vin studied his brother in arms thoughtfully for what seemed like an eternity. "Ya made a mistake, that's right."

Ezra's shoulders slumped, then he straightened to his full height. Tanner had made his choice. Not that he blamed the Texan, if places were switched, he wouldn't trust himself neither. "Well... I'll be on my way. Farewell, Mr. Tanner."

The gambler turned to go, fighting the raging, out of control feelings that had accumulated in the brief conversation.

Vin could see that Standish was honestly sorry. Heck, the man had come all the way from town just to give that stupid hat to him. Some of the pieces that made up the puzzle named Ezra Standish suddenly snapped into place, revealing a different image than that of a selfish, cheating gambler only looking out for number one that Ezra loved to present. Yes, Ezra had made a mistake, had let his greed take the better of him. But Vin had to admit that not for once, Standish had backed down from the consequences of his deed. Sure, the man had tried to weasel his way out of the punishment, relied on his instincts and training. 'I won't need a heart and a soul when I'm alone.' Ezra's words echoed through Vin's mind. The gambler had a caring heart and a hurting soul under that polished, shining facade. Yes, Ezra had made a mistake, but who could claim to be flawless? Vin sighed. "Ezra... Wait."

What now? Would the Texan humiliate him further, push him deeper down into the pit? Ezra tried to keep the exhausted quiver from his voice as he turned and waited for Vin to catch up. "Mr. Tanner?"

"That's a mighty fine hat ya bought for me, but I still need to win some money out of yer lazy hide to buy me a new coat." The Texan smiled warmly, looking straight into Standish's eyes.

Ezra's jaw dropped and he stared at Tanner wide-eyed for a moment, torn between blossoming hope and fear that he was only played with, before his poker face slipped into place. "I'm a professional gambler. You're aware of that, aren't you?"

"I'm countin' on it." The smile on Vin's face broadened. "I'm sure that yer fancy shufflin' will deal me the right cards."

Slowly, the mask on Ezra's face molt away, being replaced by a lopsided grin. "That would be cheating, Mr. Tanner."

"Yeap," the tracker encouragingly slapped Standish's upper arm. "And ya don't leave anythin' to chance, do ya?"

"Indeed, Mr. Tanner..."

Together, the two men walked back to the Seminole village where the Magnificent Seven had taken their first step to become more than just a bunch of hired guns.

The End